#series: a knock upon the door

[suguwu]

RECKONING

In the morning light, things are painfully clear.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

a sequel to aftermath.

pairing: getou suguru x gn!reader

notes: was i ever expecting to finish this sequel? not really. did it possess me this afternoon? yes. so here we are. unbeta'd.

wc: 1.2k

cw: mentions/implications of child abuse.

You make mackerel for breakfast.

It crackles as you lay it in the pan. You watch as the skin starts to sear, and you think of the scorch marks a lightning strike leaves behind.

Suguru is warm next to you, deftly cutting a cucumber into perfect little medallions. The quiet, hollow thud of your sharpest chef’s knife rings in your ears.

(He took it from you with gentle, firm fingers, his big hand wrapping around yours on the handle. The blade flashed in the watery morning light, a quicksilver gleam. 

You could feel his dark eyes on you. Idly, you wondered where he was slotting you in his ever-shifting equation.

He swept his thumb over your skin. The touch was soft. Familiar.

You let go of the knife.)

Suguru pauses mid-cut.

“The girls are awake,” he says, just as you feel his curse—swirling slowly around your guest room, a lazy seaweed drift—stutter to a halt.

“Go,” you say. “I'll finish up here.”

He’s broad against your back as he slips by, and you know that if you turned around, he’d curve around you like the sky, vast and unending. His fingertips ghost over the small of your back, leaving little imprints against your skin, even through your shirt. Then the heat of him is gone; you hear him pad down the hallway.

He leaves the knife. 

For a moment, you stare at it. It's glinting on the cutting board, wet with cucumber seeds. Your fingers twitch.

You flip the mackerel over.

You’re watching the edges blacken when Suguru reaches past you and turns off the burner. He moves the pan to the side. When he pulls back, he catches your chin in one big hand and makes you face him. 

His eyes—night-sky dark and gleaming like starshine—trace over you. He has Nanako balanced on his hip; Mimiko is holding on to his pant leg, her knuckles white. She stares up at you with big eyes. There are bruises scattered over her face like storm clouds, deep and dark. 

Your chest hurts, a bone-deep ache, like your ribs are collapsing in on themselves, an eggshell cage. 

Suguru’s grip tightens on your chin. He looks you over, his gaze flaying, stripping you down to your marrow, an autopsy cut. You don’t know what he sees in your face, but he sweeps his thumb over your bottom lip, slow and heavy. 

When he lets go of you, the breath you were holding spills out of you. You watch silently as he puts Nanako down. He kneels in front of both girls to speak to them, but you don’t hear him, not really. The words are beyond your grasp; there’s only the sound of Suguru’s voice, warm and rich, dripping over you like resin. You think of insects caught in sunlit amber, how perfectly they’re preserved in their final moments. 

The girls disappear into the dining area, accompanied by one of Suguru’s more playful curses. It darts around them, hovering nearby and nudging at them when they turn to look back at him. 

There’s something in Suguru’s face each time they turn around; a terrible, tender twist of his lips. 

You turn back to the stove.

Suguru settles at your side. “I think it’s beyond saving,” he says, watching you poke at the mackerel with a chopstick. 

“It’s not.” 

The skin crunches, a few bits of char flaking away. 

He wraps a hand around your wrist. When you glance at him, his dark eyes pierce through you. “Yes,” he says. “It is.”

He watches you. You bite your lip and nod.

The sound of him emptying the pan into the trash makes you wince. Each scrape of the knife echoes, a whining animal noise that makes your bones ache. 

Suguru sets the pan into the sink with a hollow thud.

“I have eggs,” you offer. 

“Tamagoyaki?”

“Yeah.” 

“Sounds good.”

You gather everything you need; Suguru goes back to the cucumbers, the knife singing as it slices through them, its blade slick. You try not to watch, instead staring down into the frothy swirl of eggs.

It’s quiet. 

In the distance, you can hear the girls talking to each other softly, their voices barely over a whisper, all shivering leaves. It makes something in your chest go tight, how quiet they are. 

“You would have taken them too.”

You go still. You don’t look at Suguru.

“Yes,” you say. “I would have.”

He hums; it sounds pleased. You swallow down the bile. 

The two of you don’t speak again.

—

Breakfast is a quiet affair. The girls stare at you from across the kotatsu, where they’re pressed in against Suguru’s sides like little limpets. They flinch when you move, their honey-brown eyes widening. It makes your stomach roil, a storm-struck sea. 

Suguru talks, but you barely hear him. When you have to ask him to repeat himself for the fourth time, he pauses, his dark eyes flickering over you. 

He shoos the girls into your living room, sending yet another curse flitting after them, a little darting fish with too many eyes. 

“Come here,” he says, and you do. 

When you settle next to him, he raises a hand and cups your cheek. You turn into his touch without thinking, your lips pressing against the leylines of his palm. You wonder if his future is written there. 

(You think yours might be.)

He examines you for a moment. Suguru has always been able to flay you down to your marrow, but this time, it feels sharper, a slit into the very heart of you. 

He strokes a thumb over the apple of your cheek, shifting so that he cradles your jaw. Your lips part; you unfurl for him, petal-bodied. He leans in. 

“Don’t,” you murmur.

He pauses.

For a moment, he lingers, his lips almost brushing yours. His breath ghosts hot across your lips; when he breathes in, he takes your air, makes it his own. 

“You’re not coming.”

“No,” you whisper. “I’m not.” 

His fingers tighten on your jaw. You take in a sharp breath and they loosen again, before his hand falls away entirely. 

When you look at him, his face is perfectly blank, a rising new moon fading into the sky. There’s something secret tucked up into the corner of his lips, too faint for you to decipher. 

“Suguru—”

He pushes to his feet gracefully. He gazes down at you, still on your knees before him. Like this, he takes up your entire world, his broad form the earth and the sky alike. He gazes down at you, and for a moment, you don’t know him at all.

He steps around you, heading towards the living room.

Something in you cracks open, a wound of your own making. You swallow down the sob. 

“I’m sorry,” you say to the empty room.

Only silence answers you.

—

Suguru leaves.

Mimiko is cradled against his shoulder, her little body furled in tight against him. You think of early spring blooms, still delicate in the aftermath of winter’s harsh touch. Nanako is pressing close to his leg, her hand engulfed in his steady grip. He’s slowed his pace for her.

You watch them until they disappear. 

Suguru never looks back.

—

“Principal Yaga?” you say into the phone. “I need to make a report.”

[flowersforjude]

𝐓𝐨 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Azriel x Fem Archeron!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | In your struggle to adapt to your new existence, the Night Court's shadowsinger takes it upon himself to offer his quiet comfort.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2,537

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Mentions of reader in the Cauldron, Anxiety, Depersonalization, Sweet Az, Fluff, Emotional hurt/comfort, Hints at reader and Az being mates. 

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I’m only half way through the 2nd book so I apologize for any mistakes or inaccuracies. I have a pretty good idea of what happens in the rest of the series, I just haven’t read it yet. Azriel is quickly becoming a favorite, though, so I just had to write something for him. He might be a bit ooc.

masterlist

It was the twilight hour at the House of Wind. The atmosphere was dense and strangling, a tension sitting in the air so turbulent one wrong breath could shatter the carefully constructed peace. Azriel and Cassian certainly had their hands full. Neither of the males able to dispel the strain. Rhysand was sequestered away you knew not where, leaving his brothers with the responsibility of navigating the fractured states of you and your sisters.

You sat near the window of your room, your hands curled tightly in your lap, trying to ignore the suffocating weight of everything you couldn’t fix. Couldn’t feel. Couldn’t understand.

Nesta’s sharp voice echoed faintly down the corridor, cutting through the heavy silence that pressed on your ears. Elain’s quiet sorrow was just as palpable, an ache that you didn’t have the strength to soothe, even if you wanted to. 

And you? You were drowning. Over and over again, feeling your humanity being ripped from you. Clawed away and shredded into the withering pain that tore across your skin. Never able to take in an easy breath because each intake of air felt like the Cauldron’s scorching water was invading your lungs. It turned to lead inside you, dragging you down down down into the blackened depths. 

You had come out transformed into someone, something, you didn’t recognize. You were fragmented, frayed, and whatever pieces were left of you no longer seemed to fit. 

The knock at your door startled you, a soft sound, almost hesitant, like whoever stood on the other side wasn’t sure they were welcome. You didn’t respond aloud—what would you say?—but something about the silence must have been answer enough because the door creaked open.

It was Azriel.

Of course, it was him. He always seemed to know when to appear, not with the smooth certainty of someone who could fix everything, but with the quiet persistence of someone who couldn’t walk away. His presence made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t understand, a weight and a warmth all at once.

He carried a tray of food, though his hands, so steady normally, looked almost awkward now. His shadows trailed at his feet, curling along the floor like restless whispers, and for a moment, you wondered if they’d been listening to you earlier. To the broken sounds you hadn’t meant for anyone to hear. Was that why he was here now?

“How are you feeling?” He asked, his voice low, rough, like the question cost him something to ask.

You blinked at him, unsure how to respond. How were you feeling? Empty? Heavy? Nothing and everything all at once? You wanted to laugh at the absurdity of such a simple question when the answer was anything but. Instead, you shrugged, the motion barely more than a flicker of movement.

Azriel shifted, the tray now resting on the table beside you. He flexed his hands at his sides as if he didn't know what to do with them now. His large wings were folded low at his back like he was attempting to make them less noticeable.

Is he doing that for me? To not…frighten me, perhaps?

He didn’t sit, didn’t move closer, but his presence filled the room, steady and quiet and infuriatingly unshakable. His gaze lingered on you for just a moment too long before he looked away, his jaw tightening.

You shifted in place on the window seat, folding your hands in your lap to keep from picking at the skin around your nails. It was a nervous habit you'd had all your human life, and it seemed to have followed you into your new fae existence. To be frank, the habit had gotten worse since your ordeal in the Cauldron. You were antsy, jumpy, and nervous all the time now. 

"I'm fine." You finally said in a small whisper. You felt the embarrassment creep in as you spoke. It was only two words, but it felt like it was more than you'd spoken at all since you were shoved into that dreadful, life-altering vessel. Your voice wasn't as strong as it used to be; you weren’t as strong as you used to be. Not even with your newfound abilities. Sure, you were more graceful than before, your now pointed ears could hear a bit better than before, and your skin seemed to shine like starlight, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you were a great deal more fragile now.

Especially when Azriel stood before you. The Illyrian male was the very definition of strength. You couldn't fathom why he was here right now, checking on you. But some deep, deep part of you, a part that felt as if it hadn't been there before the Cauldron, was practically beaming at his presence. It warmed inside you and sang into your mind, telling you to reach out for him. That even brushing briefly against his tanned skin would bring you lifetimes of comfort. It was absurd.

You really are losing your mind.

Azriel shifted, the gentle scrape of his boots against the floor pulling you from the spiraling thoughts threatening to consume you. His wings twitched, an almost imperceptible movement, but you caught it. You’d noticed that before, how you were always so aware of his every movement. You caught everything he did, each subtle sound and flicker of motion. It was overwhelming sometimes, this heightened awareness of him. Yet another thing you didn’t understand.

He cleared his throat softly, drawing your gaze back to him. “You don’t have to say you’re fine,” he murmured, his voice a blend of rough honesty and something more delicate, something that felt like understanding. “You don’t have to say anything at all.”

The warmth in your chest flared again, unbidden and unrelenting. You swallowed against it, against the strange pull that seemed to tether you to him, as if some invisible thread had bound itself around your heart and was now tugging mercilessly. It was maddening. You didn’t want to feel this way—this need, this want for something you couldn’t even name.

Azriel’s words settled in the room like a fragile thread, the kind that could snap with just the breath of the wrong response. He didn’t move, didn’t look at you fully, but you felt his focus anyway, sharp and unwavering. His presence was a steady hum in the background of your awareness, grounding and yet deeply unsettling at the same time.

“I…” you started, the sound so faint it barely carried between you. Your throat felt tight as if you were drowning all over again, your words caught somewhere between your chest and lips. You wanted to speak, to tell him something, anything, to fill the suffocating silence. But you didn’t know what to say. The pieces of yourself that once knew how to converse, how to be normal, felt like they had dissolved into the Cauldron’s depths, leaving you raw and exposed.

He didn’t push. He simply waited, patient as ever, his shadows coiling and shifting in the corners of the room like uneasy sentinels. They didn’t feel intrusive, strangely enough. If anything, they were like him—watchful, protective, and respectful of boundaries you couldn’t yet define.

Finally, you managed to meet his gaze, though it felt like an act of courage to do so. “I don’t know how to feel…or how to be anymore,” you admitted, the words tumbling out in a quiet, cracked rush. You hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t planned on baring even this sliver of yourself to him, but it was the truth. And something about him, about the calm compassion in his eyes, made it impossible not to say.

His expression didn’t change, not noticeably, but something about the set of his shoulders eased. “You’re hurting,” he said gently, as if he’d been expecting your answer all along. “And that is alright.”

The simplicity of his statement made your chest ache, an ache that felt strangely like relief. You turned your gaze back to your lap, your fingers twitching against one another as you fought the urge to fidget further. “It’s just…everything feels wrong,” you confessed. “Like I’m still in there, like I’m still falling, and I’ll never hit the ground.”

You felt him stiffen at your disparaging words. Saw his shadows twist the least bit closer to you, as if even they wanted to offer you some sort of solace. His voice came soft and steady, like the first breeze after a storm. “I’ve felt that way before,” he admitted, the vulnerability in his tone striking like a sudden chord in the quiet. “Like I’d been untethered, and there was no ground left to find.”

His raw honesty caught you off guard, forcing you to search for his gaze again. Nothing could have prepared you for the earnestness you not only saw in his eyes, but it also dripped from him like water. You couldn’t picture Azriel being anything but sure and unyielding. But in the same moment, you felt beholden to him for sharing such a piece of himself just to comfort you. 

The continuous tightness in your lungs lessened just a fraction, enough to allow you to take your first easy breath in weeks. “Does it ever go away?”

“Not entirely,” he said almost regretfully. Your heart sank a bit, but before you could fall completely into despair, he added, “But it does get easier.

Your words left you once more, your mind reeling with the idea of fighting this for the rest of your life. A life that would now be centuries long.

It was no surprise that he caught the shudder of dejection that crossed your face. His shadows curled closer to you like a soothing veil of darkness. Their movement was almost hypnotic, easing in the strange way you’d begun to associate with them. Azriel’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes lingered on you in a watchful manner. He glanced at the open cushion beside you. “May I?” he asked softly, his voice low and warm, though it carried an edge of uncertainty like he wasn’t sure if he was overstepping some invisible line. 

You didn’t even have to think about it before you were nodding. “Of course,” you murmured, trying not to sound too eager.

Azriel moved carefully, lowering himself onto the seat next to you. The space was narrow, and you became acutely aware of how close he was—his knee brushing lightly against yours, the faint scent of cedar and night air surrounding him. You tried to focus on your hands folded tightly in your lap, but the warmth radiating from him was impossible to ignore.

“It won’t always feel like this,” he said gently, his voice hushed and certain. “The weight you’re carrying—it changes. It becomes something you can hold, something you can live with. You’ll find your footing again.”

The conviction in his words floated to you like a lifeline. The way he looked at you, soothing and steadfast, made you feel like you had no choice but to believe him. You nodded more to yourself than to him. Silence settled in the room again, but with him beside you, it felt easier to endure than before. For the first time you didn’t feel the need to fill the quiet with something. It was simply enough to sit there with him and let his company anchor you. 

The wisp of something against your arm pulled your attention. The faint brush on your arm was barely noticeable at first, like the lightest touch of silk on your skin. When you glance down, one of Azriel’s shadows glides towards you, curious and tentative. It swirls near your wrist, its edges soft and flickering like the flame of a candle, before retreating as if it was testing the waters. 

You laughed slightly. “Do they always do that?” You asked softly, unable to keep the awe from your voice. The shadow seemed almost alive, sentient in a way that both mesmerized and unsettled you.

Azriel followed your gaze to the shadow, his expression lightened in a way you hadn’t expected. “Not always.” He divulged, his tone carrying something akin to fondness. “They’re curious about you.”

You tilted your head at him, your brows furrowing. “Me?”

“They’re drawn to certain people,” he explained, his voice low and even, as though sharing a closely guarded secret. “They can sense things others can’t.”

The shadow flickered closer again, this time brushing along your hand in a more eager manner. You couldn’t help but smile faintly, the sensation strangely soothing. “They’re not what I expected,” you said, your voice still so as to not scare the shadow.

Azriel tilted his head slightly, his eyes seeming to search you for something. “What did you expect?”

“I’m not sure.” You confessed, glancing at him. “Something harsher maybe.”

“They can be,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “When they need to be.”

You looked at him fully then, the true meaning behind his words sparking comprehension in your mind. There was a deeper depth to his shadows, a duality that mirrored their master. You wondered if he’d been born with them. If he had grown with them. Or if they had been birthed from pain, from the darkness he carried with him that hadn’t always been there. “They feel safe.” The words slipped out before you could think them through. 

Azriel’s eyes glimmered with something you couldn’t quite name, some sort of longing. “They’re meant to be,” he said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. You could hear the unspoken words he didn’t say, though. He was holding something back. 

The space between you seemed to get smaller and smaller, his warmth wrapping around you like a second skin. You became dangerously aware of how close you were—of the brush of his knee against yours, the way his wings shifted slightly behind him, almost grazing your shoulder. Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down, suddenly self-conscious.

Azriel took note; of course he did. His eyes lingered on you, his expression bordering on hunger. But it was gone and replaced by neutrality as soon as it came. Though, you could still feel the weight of his attention. His shadows danced along your wrist again, and you wondered if they could sense the fluttering beat of your pulse. 

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice rougher now, tinged with something that almost sounded like desperation. 

“You didn’t,” you replied quickly, your voice shaky but earnest.

The moment lingered between you, fragile yet thrumming with something so strong. The potency of it forces you to grapple with everything you felt for him. His shadows swirled around you softly, their movements calmer now, almost languid. You thought he might say something, that the weight in his expression would finally take shape in words, but he didn’t. Instead, he shifted ever so slightly, his arm brushing yours. You leaned into him and felt that warmth in your chest thrill at the closeness.

Something unknown, something that could wait to be explored, hummed between you. And you didn’t realize it right away, but the Cauldron’s waters felt farther away than they had in weeks.

Kind of playing with an idea for a part two with some moments leading up to them finding out they're mates.

[fayes-fics]

Lessons In Motion

Lessons Series Masterpost

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome)

Summary: An eventful carriage ride with the boys.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, no incest, dom/sub dynamics - dom!Bridgertons sub!reader, masturbation, dirty talk, mild degradation, light spanking/slapping, hair pulling, vaginal fingering, cockwarming, exhibitionism, breast play, edging, bondage restraint, sensory deprivation (blindfold), anal sex, vaginal sex, double penetration.

Word Count: 6.3k

Authors note: Is this the threesome I should be writing? No of course not. Sorry. This was indeed inspired by the synchronised head tilt in the s3 trailer 🤷‍♀️ Part of Lessons-verse, chronologically this takes place before Lessons in Breeding. Thank you to @colettebronte for betaing. Enjoy! <3

You bounce nervously in your shoes, craning to see the ride you are awaiting. 

You slipped out the side entrance of the music hall, eager to escape prying eyes, leaving them to exit through the front, picking up their family carriage together. Being a guest in the family box for the evening is one thing; an unattached woman leaving publicly with two of the most eligible bachelors in the country is another matter entirely—you have no desire to provoke the wagging tongues of the Ton. But that does not mean you wish for your night with them to be over, far from it.

With a whinny, a two-horse carriage rounds the corner into the quiet street a few hundred yards from the venue and comes to a halt before you. The windows are all obscured by thick, draped curtains. So much so that you hesitate, hang back under the shadow of the mature oak. Until that is, the door swings open, and a very familiar face pops out, expression bemused.

“Does my girl not wish for a carriage?” Anthony teases with an expectant, fond tone.

You giggle and rush towards the vehicle, climbing in quickly. The door slams behind you as a fist knocks upon the ceiling to indicate for the driver to move on. The carriage is dimly lit by one tiny glass lantern flame flickering, both sets of eyes are eager on you, that molten heat in your belly as you sit opposite them, both so handsome.

“Did you enjoy your evening, gentlemen?” you query, feigning innocence.

They both comedically tilt their heads in brotherly unison, matching bemused grins claiming their lips as Benedict giggles behind his fist.

“Considering where you had your hands all night, you know well we did,” he pipes up, raising an eyebrow pointedly. 

“Twas rather a boring recital, sir.” Your invocation of his play title makes his chest swell and his pupils dilate. “Should I not have kept myself sufficiently entertained?” He appreciates your sass, nodding with a knowing smirk. 

Indeed, you were greatly entertained. But not by the singing onstage. Sitting in the Bridgerton family box, a rigid cock in each hand as you teased them mercilessly, the angle of the seating allowing you the privacy to do so unseen by other patrons. Never letting either of them climax, taking them somewhere close then backing off, each huffing quietly, a white knuckle grip on their chair arms, as your fingers were coated with pre-cum. Most entertaining indeed. At one point, Anthony had hissed how he would have you on your knees and down your throat if you prolonged the torture much longer, but you knew it to be an empty (and entirely welcomed) threat. Now, in the privacy of the carriage, you rather suspect you are about to be taught a lesson for that cheeky behaviour.

“I do believe it is time for payback, brother,” Anthony opines, voicing your exact suspicions, them exchanging their trademark glance—so much communication with no words.

“Yes, I rather suspect a lesson is in order: that which you do unto others, you should expect done unto you,” Benedict forebodes.

Your stomach ripples as he grabs your ankle and roughly pushes it out wide, a hand travelling up your leg, gathering your dress around his forearm as he does. Soon, they discover the secret you held this evening: that you wear no chemise, no stockings, no undergarments at all, in fact—just your blue silk dress and ballet-style shoes.

“You filthy little vixen,” Anthony growls as he sees a flash between your legs.

“Do not pretend this type of indecency is not exactly what you want from her, brother,” Benedict counters dryly as his hand trails up your inner thigh, your breath quickening as he reaches your apex. You cry out, staring Anthony down as Benedict's fingers plunge into your pussy, burrowing deep, leaning his head into yours. “Always so hot, wet and wanting, are you not?” he rumbles into your hair as his fingers start to rock.

“Yes sir,” you know better than to ignore a question that is asked of you. “Only for you and my lord,” you add, knowing they always want to hear it.

“That is right,” Anthony preens, fighting with the buttons of his trousers and taking his sizable cock in hand, watching you moan and squirm on Benedict's invading digits, dripping down onto his palm, the sounds he draws from your body already obscene. You have been soaked since teasing them at the recital.

“I bet even the driver can hear this tight little cunt. Our filthy beautiful girl just drenching herself like the bitch in heat she is…” Benedict remarks casually.

You love it when they call you such taboo names in play, an illicit thrill running down your spine as he smiles predatorily and curls his fingers, hooking against your pussy wall, making you gasp. It's not quite enough pressure. Your head swings to look at him, silently requesting more.

He chuckles. “What did I tell you earlier?” 

“Teasing?” 

He nods as you pout, sliding his lips right to your ear, his breath hot there. “Until you are a mindless and trembling creature who will do whatever we tell you to.” 

You bite your lip and exhale raggedly, your belly constricting at the thought and at the sight of Anthony lazily pumping his cock, wanting to ride it so much your fingers flex upon the velour bench seat, rocking your pelvis with each stroke Benedict takes, hoping to catch a dash of friction upon your engorged clit. He tuts admonishingly when he senses what you are trying to do, curling his free hand around your inner thigh and spanking there. A stinging slap that makes you jump and mewl.

“Stop trying to come so hastily, darling girl. We decide if and when that will ever happen…” Anthony calls out from across the carriage, grabbing your leg and pulling it high and wide. He yanks off your shoe and bites your instep, not hard, but enough to make your whole body jerk, so you slide deeper onto his brother's fingers, moaning and throwing your head back, the rocking motion of the carriage somehow making it a worse tease.

“‘Tis not a long ride to either of your lodgings… surely you cannot tease me forever,” you speculate, spiralling slowly under such expert ministrations, an itch in your brain that needs to be scratched, even your teeth feel on edge.

“Oh, my girl, we are not headed to either place. Oh no. We are headed to our country retreat. The ride will take the rest of the night,” Anthony crows. “Our family will be remaining in London. So it will just be the three of us… with hundreds of acres to ourselves,” he grins devilishly, still slowly pumping his cock as he speaks.

“But…” you splutter, “I have nothing with me! No dresses, no shoes...” fretting mildly even as your stomach quivers with the thought of time spent alone with your boys.

“Oh, you sweet thing,” Benedict chuckles in your hair,  rotating his fingers so they drag over that sensitive spot that makes you shudder. “As if we are going to let you wear anything except our jewels. You shall be naked for days.”

“If you truly object, say your word now,” Anthony states clearly.  “And we shall drop you at your home.”

Benedict pauses his motions, awaiting your answer, both always respectful of your full consent. You look at them in turn, then merely shake your head fractionally, basking in their wolfish smiles. Wanting to do this with them—a new illicit adventure. The idea of days alone with both of them in a luxury country idyll is so beguiling. And a definite step forward in your dynamic as a throuple.

“Well, then, might as well tear off this dress right now; start as we mean to go on, right brother?” Benedict breezes as he withdraws his fingers from you, making you whine at the loss. But then he trails them across your decolletage, dipping his head to suckle your juices from your skin, his teeth sinking lightly into the swell of your breast, making you groan loudly and push up into his mouth.

“Agreed,” Anthony practically growls, pushing his trousers further down, cupping his balls now with his other hand.

“But my lord,” you stumble, tearing your eyes reluctantly from that tempting sight up to his face. “I need my dress to alight from this carriage when we arrive. Surely your staff should not see me naked?!" Your dissent is light, core pulsing at the mental image of them parading you naked up the front steps of a grand country house for all the gathered staff to greet your debauched arrival.

“Please,” Anthony withers, “what is a touch of nudity when they will likely find us fucking you in every way and place possible? Our darling little plaything, always so keen, are you not?” 

“Yes, my lord, Always.” 

Your whisper is obedient, watching him squeeze his cock more forcefully in his fist, his gaze locked between your splayed legs as Benedict yanks down your neckline roughly. The sound of fabric tearing fills the carriage, then their approving grunts as they realise you are without stays. 

“Get her naked, brother,” Anthony orders brusquely.

He sets about the task with enthusiasm, your dress ripping along the seams as he deploys both large hands and tears the fine silk asunder. It is one Anthony had paid for, so you do not mourn its loss, you rather suspect he will replace it with one identical in short order.

“If I am always to be naked, then will you warm my body when I am cold, sir?” You coquette, batting your eyelashes, playing up the damsel in distress to Benedict as he pushes aside the remaining fabric from around your front.

“Always sweet girl,” Benedict promises duskily, trailing his palm down your flushed skin, pulling you in for a kiss that is all tongues and heat. It has you canting your now naked body into his, desperate for his fingers, or even better, his cock, to be inside you.

As if sensing your need, Anthony intervenes as your lips break apart, perhaps jealous at the amount of time his brother has had with you. 

“Alright, enough of that. I think you are plenty prepared now. Come, my girl,” Anthony pats his thigh invitingly, “come sit on my cock.”

You make a victorious noise and slide out from around Benedict, Anthony grabbing your waist and spinning you around to face away from him. 

“Hello, my darling girl,” Anthony greets, his tone like velvet, pulling you snugly against his frame, the brocade of his waistcoat tickling your spine.

Your responding greeting turns into a cry as he guides you down onto his cock, splitting you open in that way it always does, a stretch that is just the right side of discomfort, that heavy weight pressing far inside that you yearn for.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, grabbing your jaw and pulling you back into a plundering kiss, making you pliant in his arms.

“Fuck me, my lord,” you beseech when you realise he is holding your hips down with a slight force, preventing any movement.

“But we have hours,” he drawls unhurriedly, “how about you sit still and just enjoy the ride, hmmm?”

You mewl in protest; as much as the carriage ride is indeed a pleasant rocking motion, your clit is throbbing, needing friction, craving release. You attempt to coax him by squeezing his cock so he groans throatily.

“Stop that. If you defy me, I will never let you come.”

He forcefully grabs your knees and drapes your thighs on either side of his woollen trousers that are bunched around his hips, then splays his legs wide. There’s a burning stretch on your inner thighs as he now holds you obscenely open. You are powerless to do anything but sit obediently upon his cock, whining slightly as the need claws at the edges of your mind.

Across from you, Benedict watches, seemingly transfixed by the sight of you naked and pinned open, speared on Anthony's cock, whimpering as your attempts to move are quelled by those firm hands clamped on your hips. You watch as he unbuttons and takes himself in hand, just as Anthony had, his eyes hungrily raking over your body. It makes you want to climb into his lap and fuck him over and over. 

“Will you fuck me, sir?” You lobby, hoping it will get a rise out of Anthony, that it will catalyse him into taking you hard, possessively.

“You know I will, sweet girl,” Benedict responds huskily. “But as my brother says, we have hours, and you will learn your lesson today…”

“I promise I have learned my lesson not to tease either of you,” you implore sincerely, hopeful for absolution, but both of them merely huff a laugh, suspecting it a hollow pledge. 

You pout again but relent, leaning back into Anthony, accepting your fate. His lips graze your temple as you rest your head on his shoulder and try to get comfortable. Try to ignore the pulse in your engorged clit with every heartbeat. Try to ignore the press of his frenulum inside, a pressure you feel compelled to rub against. Try to ignore that tingle in your nipples where they pucker hard, desperate for a tongue or some rough fingers.

And that is how you stay for what feels like an eternity. Just the noises of movement and horses upon what is now a dirty track, bright moonlight seeping through the cracks in the curtains as you sit in silent submission, The rocking of the carriage meaning you must occasionally endure the jolts of his cock against your hilt, making your breath catch. Your eyes alternate between fluttering closed and opening to see Benedict idly grasping his cock, but it's too tempting a sight, so you swallow hard and close them again. 

However, with your eyes closed, you see worse images dancing before you, taunting you. Flashes of them both lathing their tongues all over your skin, of you on your knees between them, a cock in your mouth and one pounding into your pussy, a loop of carnal push and pull. It makes you leak more, a trickle leaving your body and pooling at the base of Anthony’s cock, nestling in his hair there.

“I can feel how aroused you are,” Anthony purrs into your hairline, almost startling you after many minutes of quiet. “How it is taking every fibre in your being not to defy me. Let’s see how good you can really be for me. Remember, you may not move.”

That’s all the warning you get before his warm, lightly quill-calloused fingers slide over your clit, rubbing an agonisingly light, slow circle. Not enough to do anything but make you shudder and pant, needing more, tiny sparks igniting through your heavy pelvis. Fighting so hard to keep your hips still, wanting more than anything to buck up, bear down onto the hook of his fingers, frottage yourself until you come clenching around his cock so steely and hot inside you.

“Please, my lord,” you grit out, turning to bury your nose into him, huffing his spicy amber cologne, lips brushing the rasp of stubble on his strong jaw.

“I could listen to you beg all night,” Anthony confesses and there’s an edge to his voice that is dark, dangerous, unyielding. 

You lament when his fingers disappear, but he rolls his hips with the motion of the carriage, his cock sliding just a fraction deeper, making you cry out, the change of angle promising so much. Your hand flies out for purchase upon something solid but instead seizes the carriage curtain, unintentionally pulling it back so the glass is revealed.

“Oh, excellent idea!” Anthony lauds. “Yes, show yourself to the world, darling girl; show what a wanton thing you are for us.”

By now, though, the busy streets of Mayfair are long behind you. You are out in the darkness past Blackheath, moving fast down the Dover road to rural Kent. If there are any prying eyes, they will only catch a glimpse of you utterly naked, seated upon a clothed Viscount.

“Open the rest, brother,” Anthony clips.

Your eyes ping to Benedict as he releases his cock and pulls open the draped fabric on either side, hooking it back so the inky blackness of night is all around you.

“Imagine being seen, my girl,” Anthony baits. “There could be a highwayman right now lurking among those trees.”

Benedict leans forward, his hand suddenly clasping the jewelled necklace draped around your throat, the one Anthony presented you with just last week. His motion pulls you upright away from Anthony, the tilt of his cock inside you catching your breath.

“They may want this darling girl,” Benedict joins in. “Will you give it to them? Or will you offer something else instead in order to keep it? A more precious jewel perhaps….” He releases your necklace and trails that hand down between your breasts, over your belly, spidering lower until he grazes your clit. “Will you allow him this? Your greatest treasure?”

You moan loudly at his expert touch, a stroke of his middle finger under the hood of your clit making your whole body quake.

“N-no sir, I would not,” you stumble. “That belongs to my lord and to you.”

“Oh, good answer,” he winks, eyes twinkling in the moonlight streaming in as his now wettened finger traces back up over your belly. “But what if that is what we wish? To watch you be fucked by a stranger? A thief in a mask? Would you then?”

“I would do whatever you and my lord want, sir,” you pledge truthfully, then inhale sharply as he grabs the back of your neck and moves in close, his lips ghosting yours as he speaks again, teasing you with an almost kiss.

“I could watch you be fucked by a dozen men and enjoy every single one. I do so love the way your eyes roll when you are being taken rough. How you always, always plead for more, greedy little one that you are.” 

Your eyes flit down to see his other fist speeding up around his cock. It makes you clench around Anthony, who groans hard, the air in the carriage somehow notching hotter, tighter, like it’s a fight to breathe.

“Sir,” you murmur on his lips, “Please help me; I am in such need.”

You feel as much as see that crooked, laconic smile claims his face, his cock still in hand. “What do you want from me, darling girl? Be specific, maybe I will do it…” 

“Suck my nipples,” you request boldly at his enticement as he tilts back to watch you speak. “Maybe bite them a touch? Use your wonderful fingers upon my pearl; you can surely see it is so swollen...”

You know such explicit language will work for him, and sure enough, his nostrils flare as you ask for precisely what you need, his tongue flicking out to trace around his lips.

“Brother, will you allow it?” Benedict checks, his gaze flitting briefly to the man you sit upon.

“I will,” Anthony concedes, “on one condition: do not let her come, not yet.” He grabs a fistful of your hair, making you inhale sharply, jerking you back against his body, trailing his nose over your cheek. “I do so need her desperate and crying pretty tears for me before I shall allow that.”

Benedict slides to his knees before you, between your splayed legs, and you tremble as his damp lips ghost over the valley between your breasts, nuzzling your skin, inhaling deeply, trailing the point of his nose left to your nipple. You moan loudly as he suckles you into his hot mouth, lips pursed around your puckered teet. Then he glances the edge of his front teeth over your skin, causing a shudder down your spine. His hand cups your other breast, fondling your nipple with swipes of his thumbpad, teasing, while his teeth clamp down and tug away—a beeline to your core. 

You mutter a curse and thrash your head a little, settling on pressing your nose into Anthony’s neck and whimpering lightly, so much sensation coursing through you, his cock is still rigid and unrelenting inside you. Muttering as Benedict keeps feasting upon your breasts, biting, suckling, fondling, not allowing you one moment without the tormenting thrill, a quake in your thighs, an odd tingle in your arms, a pressure behind your belly that is a ball of need, wound tight like a spring.

“Sweet, sweet girl,” Anthony sighs, wrapping an arm around your head, his bicep bulging against your face through his jacket. “Now you have some sense of how we felt earlier tonight…”

At that, Benedict slides his thumb over your clit, flicking in a sideways motion that has you screaming into Anthony’s skin, clawing your hands into both of their hair, grasping their scalps and making them both growl.

“My lord, sir, please….” 

It's a broken, pitiful sound, teetering as you are, reality a blur, a buzz in your brain that is febrile. A tear of frustration prickles your eye at the prolonged agony of denied ecstasy. Just as you are incapable of defying them anymore and have to break, Benedict pauses, pulls back, and watches with that killer smile as you protest even louder, breasts wet with his saliva, goosebumps covering your entire body.

“She is so beautiful like this, brother,” Benedict groans, grabbing himself again and squeezing a few times as if staving off his own orgasm. “You should see it from here….” he adds as he falls back upon the opposite bench.

“I want to,” Anthony confesses, kissing your temple. “I want to see what you look like, my girl, struggling like this; I wish this damn carriage had a mirror….”

“There is one way….” Benedict shrugs, probably aiming for nonchalant but missing entirely. “She may do the same to me?”

“Do you want that, my girl? To sit upon my brother as well?”

“Yes, my lord,” you confess, always eager to gratify them both. “Will I be allowed to come if I do?”

He chuckles into your skin. “Not yet. But if you are good for him too, maybe then.”

Hope flares as Anthony closes his legs and hoists you up and off his cock, you emitting a slight lament at the loss of him as he helps you to turn around and guides you onto Benedict’s lap. Before you know it, you are once again invaded intimately, the stretch different in ways you can’t fully articulate but just as wonderful. Sliding deep, Benedict’s responding moan is hot in your ear as you settle upon him. He hooks your legs over his in the same manner Anthony did, pushing his knees wide open, perhaps even more so, and you hiss at the tugging sensation in your tendons.

“See, brother?” Benedict crows. “Look how spectacular she is…” the words are nuzzled into your temple as he drops a sighing kiss there.

“‘Tis quite the sight…” Anthony agrees lowly as he starts to unwind his cravat while sitting back to admire you. “But I feel she may need those rebellious hands restrained….”

Your belly roils as Anthony grabs your wrists, jerking them forward and binding them with the soft white silk, looping the fabrics many times before tying a tight bow that is unyielding. He doesn’t even ask for your colour, knowing such things are always a green light. What’s new is he guides your bound hands up high, then backwards, curling them behind Benedict’s head with an amused arched eyebrow.

“Don’t you dare move those arms until I say so,” Anthony warns, and all you can do is nod and bite your lip.

“Oh, excellent idea,” Benedict rhapsodises, staring fervently down the plane of your body draped naked over him.

It’s all at once similar and yet different to moments ago with Anthony: the stretch of a cock impaling you, the ache in your thighs forced so wide open, but now with the pulse in your wrists with your hands bound behind Benedict’s strong neck, your fingernails sinking into the plush ruched fabric on the wall behind.

“Watch me, my girl,” Anthony commands.

Drowsy and shaky with unmet needs, you observe as he touches himself again, his proud cock still glistening with your juices as it passes through his fist, tempting, teasing you. Attempting relief by undulating upon Benedict, but balance is more difficult now your hands are bound, instead resorting to supplicant pleas, hoping his empathetic nature will win out.

“Not yet,” he soothes through gritted teeth, but you can sense his quandary, wanting so much to rut into you, his hands flexing upon the dip of your waist. 

“You believe I have learned my lesson, do you not, sir?” Your soft appeal is blatant manipulation, reluctantly looking away from Anthony to twist sideways and stare beseechingly into his hazy blue eyes, finding a storm of desire there. Your lips tingle for his kiss as he goes to answer but is interrupted.

“Stop trying to cheat my girl,” Anthony counsels tersely. While he has welcomed Benedict into your dynamic, sometimes residual jealousy rears when you appear to have a moment of connection with his brother, wanting to gain control—the upper hand.

“You heard him. So, are you going to be a very good girl for me?” 

Benedict’s voice is a resonant vibration through your back, his frilly shirt tickling your spine. You would do anything for him when he asks like that. Your resounding nod is rewarded with a kiss, and his long fingers snagging around your nipples, your pussy clenching reflexively upon him as his tongue rolls over yours. It makes him stutter a growl into your mouth, which tastes like sin laced with smoky whiskey. 

And so you do as asked—sitting meekly, submissively, that heavy distracting weight inside you keening quietly, throbbing between your legs as Benedict tweaks your nipples almost lazily between his paintbrush-calloused fingers, his lips on your neck, sucking gently, a sensation that is all soft, wet heat. Your hooded gaze is glued to Anthony idly stroking himself, only a fraction of movement designed to keep himself aroused, no doubt. 

Minutes tick by, so you lean back into Benedict’s body as his touch softens, allowing your breathing to syncopate to his, his chest rising and falling against your back. Despite your thrumming arousal, the effect is soporific, and you find yourself growing so sleepy, eyelids too heavy…

…“Wake up, sweet girl,” Benedict’s bemused voice rings in your ear.

You startle, having no concept of how much time has passed. You are impressed when you realise he is still rock-hard inside you, your legs closer together now.

“For how long was I asleep?” You query, stifling a light yawn. A warmth blooms behind your ribs when you realise that, at some point, they unhooked your arms from behind Benedict's head, your hands resting in your lap, still bound in Anthony’s cravat.

“About a quarter hour,” Anthony chuckles. “You looked so peaceful, but we decided to rouse you to deliver the good news. We believe that you have indeed learned your lesson, sweet girl….”

“Yes, my lord, I have!” You enthuse, suddenly awake again, feeling an instant quickened throb in your clit, hoping it means they will finally take pity on you, fuck you, let you come.

“Then it is time for your reward…” 

Anthony’s tone is both benevolent and filthy as he flicks open a small vial that he must have retrieved from somewhere while you were sleeping. He shuffles his trousers down his legs a little further, the smell of olives and clove swirling in the air as he pours the oily substance onto his cock. 

“What is my reward, my lord?” You ask as your stomach clenches. 

But you already know. There is only one reason he does this. It’s when he wants to claim your bottom, not your pussy.

“You get both of us inside you at once, darling,” he answers with a dangerous smile, and Benedict groans as again, on instinct, you clench around him in excitement.

“She likes that idea, brother,” Benedict offers sardonically from behind you.

“Use your cravat, sir, blindfold me,” you petition, twisting your head to look at him, wanting to feel as much as see tonight.

“By god, I adore you,” Benedict gruffs, his voice laden with admiration and arousal as he dives in for a quick kiss. 

Then you feel him fighting off the teal silk behind you, unwinding it rapidly before settling it gently over your face, the gossamer soft fibres still warm from his neck, scented lightly of him. He ties a bow behind your head and then drops a kiss on your shoulder. Then two sets of hands assist you up off of Benedict's cock. You revel in their touch as they gently spin you and guide you backwards onto Anthony’s now bare lap, his trousers around his knees.

As the carriage rocks gently, two oiled fingers slide between your cheeks, and Anthony whispers sweetly as he swirls a finger around your bottom, extolling soft praises as he always does when he takes you here, preparing you for him. 

When you murmur that you are ready, you exhale shakily as you feel that intense blunt pressure, now more familiar to you, as he breaches your tight hole, your body stretching to accommodate his oiled cock, slowly sinking into his lap as you take slow, relaxing breaths. 

“Exquisite,” he stutters, his hands moving to hold your waist tightly, guiding you the last few inches until you are seated to his root—the utter fill like a sense memory. After a few moments of allowing you to adjust, Anthony changes his stance, pulling your legs open wider and shifting inside in a way that feels pleasurable and makes your hands flex in your binding.

“You like that, do you not?” you can hear the smirk in Benedict’s voice even if you can't see it, feeling his intense gaze upon your body as you raise your head to the sound of his voice and nod.

“Hands above your head, my girl,” Anthony instructs, and instantly, your hands shoot up, the silk binding on your wrists flexing as Benedict grabs your arms and hooks them behind Anthony’s head, his heat looming over you as he does so.

“Good, now are you ready for me too?” he checks, and you just know he has an arched brow, that menacing look; you can hear the pump of his cock in his fist, saliva gathering in your mouth at the very thought.

“Yes, sir.” 

“You do not want gentle tonight, do you?” Benedict intuits, likely seeing the hunger writ large across your blindfolded face as he kneels on a little footrest; you can feel his hips at the perfect height, the edge of his cropped jacket snagging the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“No, sir.” 

“So very different to the first time we did this,” Anthony remarks knowingly in your ear, invoking the memory of that landmark night in your burgeoning dynamic—the night you truly became a throuple.

It makes you almost wistful even in this carnal moment, that now familiar press of both their bodies, of being sandwiched between them as Benedict leans in. Although tonight, it is not warm skin upon yours, but the slight scratch of wool, the tickle of silk as they remain clothed. 

“Perhaps we indulge you too much, with both of us at once…” Anthony chuckles.

“No! Let me have both..” you twist back to implore him, even though you cannot see. “I need you both so much, my lord, sir, I am aching…”

“Well, I cannot deny such a pretty appeal as that, brother,” Benedict avows, and that is all the warning you get before he guides himself into you. 

You groan loudly as his tip nudges into your pussy, the stretch of two cocks always making your eyes roll, your toes scrunch hard. Anthony’s hands grasp your thighs, holding you open as Benedict slides deeper inside, their breath uneven, knowing they can likely feel the pressure of each other as much as you can. A curse slips from your lips as they both finally rest entirely within you.

“Darling girl, you always take us so well,” Benedict’s voice lauds, dark and decadent, “so magnificent.”

Your eyelids flutter hard against his cravat, bound and blindfolded, split open upon two cocks… you can think of nowhere else you would rather be.

“Please fuck me…” you entreat, feeling as if you have been pleading for hours with them, your mind scratchy, clawing, like a wild beast clambering up the sides of the carriage, wailing to be sated.

You almost howl as finally, finally, they take pity upon you. Benedict withdraws and then thrusts back into you, aided by the rocking motion as the carriage hurtles through past the fields of Kent, the journey seeming to speed up, mirroring the fevered atmosphere within.

Blindly, you seek a kiss from them both, swivelling to Anthony, then Benedict. Desperate, hot, open mouths meet as you start to set a rhythm together, the friction and fullness radiating pulses of pleasure outwards from where you are joined.

You love it when you are caged between them like this, pinned, hands tied, unable to see. Unable to do anything, indeed, but submit to their whims, entrusting your body and gratification utterly to them, to lay back and take it. Take the endless surges of pleasure, the push and pull, the drag of them both inside you as they change tempo, catching you unawares and making you moan and babble. The noises they wrench from your body are drowned out by the thrum of wheels upon dirt, by the thundering of hooves before you, all of you chasing destinations, literal and ephemeral. Windows fogging with panted breaths, the carriage air almost cloying, all three of you moaning unfettered as pleasure mounts.

“Do you think the coachmen above can hear us?” you gasp out, eyes rolling at the overwhelming sensations of both moving within you, their hips snapping roughly.

“Do you honestly care?” Anthony challenges, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he rolls under you.

“She wants them to watch, most likely,” Benedict pants, his hands a vice-like grip on your waist as he fucks into you.

When you do not respond they both huff a laugh.

“Your silence says so much,” Anthony remarks and suddenly, your hair is in his fist, the force making your back arch, sliding both of their cocks deeper, your moan unbridled. “Whose good little whore are you?” he demands hotly, a glance of his teeth upon your jaw.

“Yours,” you rasp, eyes fluttering against your blindfold, head tilted to the carriage ceiling, feeling the burn on your scalp, your nipples pebbled hard against the rough rasp of Benedict's jacket lapel.

“Then repeat it,” Benedict bites out, his mouth sucking harshly upon your shoulder, leaving his mark, a darkened patch you know he will have you look at in the mirror in the coming days.

“I’m your good little whore,” you echo breathily, for them both, the degrading words ratcheting you higher.

They both groan at your utterance, their hands becoming a more urgent hold. Fingertips grazing and tweaking your nipples, you know not whose. Teetering so close, you beg. Beg them to go faster, to touch your clit, to hold you down, be rough, do anything to make this fever upon your skin, buzzing in your mind, break over you, release you from this prolonged heightened state, leaking profusely around their cocks, slack-jawed, strung out with need.

When a hand worms between your bodies, snagging against your clit, you convulse around them, both groaning at the restriction, curse words falling from them in harsh pants as finally you reach the peak you have been seeking forever. One flick of a thumb, and you are gone.

The intensity of your orgasm is breathtaking: transported and hurtled into the skies far above, your whole pelvis contracting and rippling around both of them as they cry out as your vice-like grip. Static buzzing in your skull as they seem to sandwich into you even harder, your lungs gasping for air as your body feels rearranged, your mind floating on a sea of bliss as their movements become harsher, more desperate, you pulling them over the edge with you. Benedict withdraws suddenly, a warmth splashing upon your lower belly as Anthony growls hard under you, feeling the ripple of his cock as he releases inside your bottom.

For a few moments, it’s just panted breaths, all slumped together in a damp pile. Exchanging sated smiles as they tenderly unwrap the cravat from around your eyes and wrists, delicately kissing your skin as you rearrange. Playtime over, back to yourselves, a shared affection between that is undeniable now.

“How much longer until we reach your country home?” you ask as you curl up into their joint embrace, hands caressing your skin in soothing swirling patterns, a languorous pull in your bones now that you are finally satiated. A flickering glow behind your ribs at the idea this is just the start of something new with your boys.

“I have absolutely no clue, my darling,” Anthony confesses with a carefree bubble of laughter, “and I do not particularly care as long as you are in our arms, right brother?” he adds, tilting his head leisurely towards Benedict.

“Absolutely,” Benedict concurs, “If only all carriage rides were this stimulating…” he jests wistfully.

“They could be… if you always take me with you,” you breeze, giving him a chaste kiss.

“We shall never travel again without you,” Anthony attests over a stifled yawn, his stubble abrading your collarbone as he burrows his head into your neck and sighs contentedly.

And that is how you all finally rest, a tangled pile of limbs, your naked body warmed by their tight hold as the carriage whisks you through the countryside under a blanket of stars. 

Taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @kisskissshutmydoor @y0ur-favgerman @sya-skies

[shomatoriashi]

12/01/24; 06:41pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you steal a kiss from them ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

always known to fall asleep during the daylight hours, you decided to be a good girlfriend and allow sylus to get some much needed rest.

but of course, sharing a living space with luke and kieran provided double the challenge for you. throughout the day, it seemed like your main mission involved preventing the twins from making too much noise-

or from blowing up the whole mansion in general.

their laughters and overall abundance of energy was wearing you down, and it got so bad that you decided to set them off on a scavenger hunt you had made up on a whim, just to get some peace and quiet. once they were out of the house and roaming the streets of the n109 zone, you let out a sigh of relief, heading back to your shared bedroom. now in the confines of your sanctuary, you shut the door behind you while letting out a gentle huff.

trailing your gaze towards the bed, you smile upon seeing sylus still resting comfortably in bed. the comforter covered the lower half of his body, and you could feel your heart pounding in response to the sight of his perfectly sculpted chest and how it lay bare for your eyes alone.

it didn’t matter how many years you’ve spent together with sylus. without fail, your abdomen would always erupt with butterflies at the sight of his beauty. as if caught in a trance, you step closer to the sleeping man, heart already racing with anticipation at what you were about to do.

you stand over your lover, admiring the tranquility of his sleeping face when you heed your heart’s desire and lean your face down closer to his, pressing your lips against sylus in a gentle kiss.

“hn, i was wondering when you’d come back to me.”

sylus’s rich voice catches you off guard, and you gasp in response, feeling sylus open his eyes before placing a large hand behind your head, keeping you still before crashing his lips against yours in a searing kiss. the tip of his tongue traces at the border of your lips, and you steadily began to lose all of your senses the moment you open up to him, allowing him to slide his tongue in and get a taste of you.

sleep had long since evaded sylus when he keeps you close to him, taking advantage of your newfound privacy as he quickly morphed your simple kisses into something much more passionate.

zayne had locked himself within his office once more-

and you felt incredibly disappointed in the fact that he was still working despite it being his day off.

however, you did your best to forgive him in such situation, since he was someone who saved lives with his profession.

you just wished there was something you could do to help with easing his stress.

as the hours went by, you look at the clock to see it was already 7pm, with no signs of zayne coming out of his office anytime soon. letting out a sigh, you figured you could help your boyfriend destress by ordering some good takeout for dinner. not in the mood to cook, you figured it was fine to treat yourself to some of your favorite takeaway while sharing it with zayne. with your orders placed and paid for, you hesitantly walk toward his office and give the door a series of knocks.

“it’s unlocked, honey.” zayne’s tired voice was heard coming from behind the door, and you could feel the heat travel up your neck at the sound of his affectionate nickname for you.

with a sheepish grin, you enter his office, your greeting for him settled at the tip of your tongue, yet something stops you. your eyes take in the sight of zayne, dressed comfortably in a grey sweater as his eyes poured over the various patient charts settled on his desk. his reading glasses remained settled against the tip of his nose, and his hair appeared messier than usual, like he had been running his hands through them throughout the day.

a compulsion was felt coursing through your veins, your heart and mind both telling you that you needed to kiss him at this very moment. for some reason, zayne looked incredibly alluring to you, and you found yourself falling in love with him all over again.

you take gentle strides toward zayne, calling out his name while in an almost trancelike state. zayne meets your gaze and acknowledges you-

only to let out a gasp when you suddenly crash your lips against his. the shock he felt lasts for a mere second before he responds, moving his lips slowly as he slots his lips against yours, kissing you back with just as much passion.

when the need for air proved to be too much, you were the first to pull away from him, feeling embarrassed when zayne gives you a knowing smile. “i apologize, had i known you had missed me so much, i would have spent more time with you.”

you could only manage a series of stutters in response to his sweet words, earning a sweet chuckle from him. grasping at your hand, he places a lingering kiss at the back of them, “forgive me?”

you shake your head, getting rid of your nervousness and smile, feeling zayne place you on his lap. being closer to him now, you allowed your hands the pleasure of running through his soft strands of hair, “of course i forgive you. i always do because you’re a good man who saves lives for a living.”

a rich chuckle escapes from zayne as he takes off his glasses, leaning into you with another smile on his face, “i suppose you do wish to be spoiled after all.”

and when zayne suddenly surges forward, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss, you allowed the rest of the world to melt away-

not even caring that your dinner had already arrived, since all you could taste and feel was zayne.

your losing streak with kitty cards would be your tragic end-

you were certain of it as xavier seemed to have all the luck on his side.

from getting the optimal amount of kitty cards and their matching cups, his score kept climbing higher and higher-

leaving you sobbing in the dust as you struggled to keep up.

even with the various power ups you tried to use to help with lowering his winnings, none of them seemed to be enough.

currently, you were on your last round of kitty cards with xavier, leaving you pouting at your hunter boyfriend as he kept giggling sweetly at you, holding his cards above his lips to help with hiding his smile in hopes of easing the blow of your incoming loss.

“hehe, s-sorry, but your pouting face is so cute… you’re so adorable.” xavier tells you, clearly enjoying his winnings so far-

and admittedly, you felt the tiniest bit petty-

actively ignoring how much your heart was racing at the sight of xavier’s smiling face.

yet xavier seemed to bask in your annoyance, still chuckling lightly as he waited for you to complete your turn. letting out a grumble of his name, you cross both arms across your chest and tell him, “wipe that grin off your face, it’s not funny that you’re so lucky right now…!”

yet your words simply make xavier chuckle even more at you, no longer using his cards to hide his smile as he laughed at you. you let out a huff, wishing to wipe that cute smile off his face when you lean across the table to press an unexpected kiss against xavier’s lips.

your boyfriend lets out a surprised sound that was a mix between a gasp and a grunt, making you smile against his lips while deepening the kiss, not stopping until you were certain that xavier would be left speechless. knowing that you had successfully swallowed the rest of his laughter, you pull away from him with an almost smug expression on your face.

now, it was your turn to giggle at xavier, watching as his cheeks take on a rosier hue, actively blushing as he kept touching at his lips. finally registering the sounds of your laughter, xavier tosses aside his cards and allows the colored teacups to fall to the ground the moment he lunges at you, with his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you closer to him.

“no fair… you cheated.” it was xavier’s turn to pout when he presses you closer to him.

feeling playful, you stick your tongue out at him-

only for xavier to respond by leaning down to kiss you once more, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss that had you seeing stars by the end of it all.

there was something achingly beautiful when it came to witnessing rafayel complete a painting he had been working on for nearly weeks on end.

and you were lucky enough to be the closest to him when these moments struck-

where you allowed yourself to bask in the beauty of rafayel’s radiant gaze, his eyes looking over the completed canvas with a sense of noticeable pride coursing through his veins.

there also seemed to be a glowing aura that surrounds him, making him appear so wonderful and oh so breathtaking that your heart would ache in response to witnessing something so ethereal.

filled with love for him, you step into his studio, calling out rafayel’s name while he was in the midst of basking in his completed work. he hums and faces you, giving you a beaming smile while welcoming you with arms wide open, “hey princess-“

you stand closer to him, cutting him off when you leaned up against him before pressing a loving kiss against his lips. he stiffens momentarily in surprise, yet still, you continued to kiss him, filled with an almost possessive desire to claim him as yours alone.

yet instead of pushing you away-

rafayel responds beautifully to you, kissing you back while wrapping both of his arms around your waist to help with bringing you closer to him. a giggle was felt bubbling within your throat when you break off the kiss first.

“hey, why’d you pull away so fast?” rafayel’s pouting face earns yet another giggle from you, making you lean up to press a kiss against his nose. “truly, i don’t know what came over me. i just wanted to show you how proud i am of you… and… let you know how beautiful you are each time you finish a project you’re so passionate about.”

rafayel’s eyes light up with unbidden joy upon hearing your words, “oh now you’re just begging to be smothered in kisses! you better prepare yourself princess.”

the sight of your grinning face makes your lemurian lover crush your body against his, allowing him to kiss at your features, practically littering your face with his playful kisses as your laughter echoes throughout the studio.

end notes: i’ve been writing too much smut and figured there needed to be some much needed fluff with my fave LADS men as a palate cleanser 😅😅😅

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[frost-queen]

My mortal flaw (Reader x Zuko)

Requested by: Anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @iixchloee, @cherrysxuya

Summary: Reader is a watertribe princess, intended to marry Prince Zuko as an offering of peace between the nations. Zuko never wanted you as his wife and finds you a weakness. A weakness he never saw coming. Upon the discovery of the Avatar, you try to sneak away, only to be discovered by Zuko leading to an arguement. At Kyoshi island you find an escape with Sokka and Katara which makes Zuko derranged and furious. Doing anything in his power to get you back. Finally realizing he might love you. [series]

There were loud knocks on the door to your cabin. It made you lift your head up. You didn’t respond immediate as the next following knocks turned into banging. – “Gentle, gentle.” – you heard a muffled voice speak from the other side. There was a deep sigh, followed by a gentle knock. Almost too gentle. – “Yes.” – you responded having kind of clue of who was at the other side.

“Are you done staying inside?” – It was Prince Zuko speaking at the other end. – “No.” – you responded hearing Zuko barely loose his temper on the other end. – “Calm, calm now nephew.” – you recognized it was Iroh’s voice, soothing the prince’s temper.

You heard some movements till Zuko’s temper took over. – “Then perish inside!” – he yelled at the door as you saw the light of flames through the cracks. Jumping up you went up to the door. – “I will!” – you shouted back in frustration. There was a loud groan with a hard stomp against your door. Startling you away from the door.

Footsteps died out It made you near the door again, holding your ear against it. Once the storm had passed, you exhaled deep. You knew you couldn’t stay in your cabin. It wasn’t deliberately, but you sometimes wanted to avoid Zuko.

Almost at every occasion were you forced together in close proximity. The waterbending princess promised to him. A peace treaty between nations. Honestly you didn’t know what possessed Fire lord Ozai to accept your father’s proposition of simply handing you over on a silver platter to his son.

Being on Zuko’s ship for almost four years now, you had a bit of a clue. Perhaps the fire lord accepted it, to taunt Zuko more. A way of shaming him further against his nation. Water and fire weren’t meant to be together. It was an extra nudge to keep Zuko out of the fire nation. If he wasn’t so bad tempered you might feel sympathy for him.

Opening the door, you decided to head out. Probably the first in days. You missed the ocean breeze, the salty water, the cold, the moon. You missed everything that felt close to you. Looking cautiously around for Zuko, you snuck your way up to the deck. Feeling the breeze on your skin, you inhaled deep. Composed you went to the railing, holding tight to it. Feeling the rocking of the ship on the water, you leaned back to take it in.

With a satisfying breath, you looked up to the moon. The deck was mostly empty. Most soldiers below deck. Playing some cards or drinking. It was a bit too quiet as you missed the buzzing life of your village. Leaning with your chin on your arms by the railing, you stared into the water. Wondering how your tribe was doing without your presence.

“What are you doing here?” – A loud voice raged. You jumped up, startled to bone. Turning your posture a bit, you saw Zuko braising as he came your way. You rolled your eyes at him. – “Make up your mind where you want me.” – you replied raising your voice a bit as well. Zuko puffed up his chest with anger, standing face to face with you. His hands radiating heat. His gaze scanning yours. He hated how vulnerable your gaze was. Soft and mesmerizing as the moon.

A wind picked up from the east as it made you shiver. Zuko noticed it, observing you. – “Fetch the princess a blanket!” – he yelled without a glance away from you. From behind Zuko at the other side, you saw a soldier rush to get you a blanket. You tilted your head a bit. – “Your uncle isn’t looking.” – you told him.

Knowing he only showed kindness when his uncle forced him to be civil. – “I know.” – Zuko responded with a soft glare. The soldier returned with a blanket as Zuko snatched it from his hands. He rose his hands, intending to place the blanket over your shoulders as he stopped himself. He caught himself being nice. Showing a weakness, he couldn’t afford.

He brought his hands back to his chest, throwing the blanket at you. You caught it when it hit your chest. – “How gentle of you.” – you said sarcastic, putting the blanket over your shoulders. Zuko huffed loud as he staid in your presence. Close as it made you uncertain at this point. What was he still doing around you? He never staid this long around you. Not if it wasn’t forced on him.

There was a rumble in the sky followed by a strong gush of air. It knocked you right against Zuko’s chest. His hand subtle on your back as the wind kept blazing through. Zuko’s eyes lit up, lowering his hand on you. From the corner of your eye, you saw a bright blue light.

Making you turn around to bestow upon the beam of light in the sky. – “What is that?” – you asked a bit nervous and frightened. Unconsciously you leaned back, coming in touch with Zuko’s chest. Zuko stepped back as you felt the loss of touch. He started ordering commands to his crew to set coarse to the beam of light. It might be a clue for his search for the Avatar.

The ship neared the village of the southern water tribe. It cracked the ice open when it steered frontal through it. The village nearing. Zuko stood on deck. Uncle Iroh a step behind him to the side. You stood beside Zuko, your fiancé. With worry, you looked up to him. – “Stay on the ship.” – he said firm, keeping his hands behind his back. – “but…” – you started. – “Stay here!” – Zuko yelled at you, making you gulp nervously. – “Zuko!” – Iroh called out.

“Show the princess some kindness.” – he told him with a soft glare. Zuko breathed with a scoff. He lowered himself a bit to speak to you like a he would do to a little child. – “That’s an order from your prince.” – he made clear. Something you caught in his eyes, made you see a smidge of desperation in him. Did he perhaps think you’d stay here with the people of your own kind?

That once you left the ship, they’d see you as a prisoner and claim you as theirs? Before you could think of it more, had Zuko turned away. Zuko accepted his helmet from one of his men, following them. Iroh came joining your side as you watched Zuko and his men descend onto the ice. – “Best to stay out of a fight, princess.” – he said to you.

Being on the ship was boring. You hardly had any sight of what was happening down at the village. You saw flashes of fire as you hoped Zuko wouldn’t burn down the village. It was small. Smaller than any village you had known. You had lost sight of Iroh. He was probably up on the high deck to overlook the happening. A gush of wind made you bring your hands up to protect your face. – “An airbender?” – you questioned.

Hadn’t they gone instinct? For over a hundred years there haven’t been an airbender. – “The Avatar!” – you heard the soldiers shout in unison. – “The Avatar.” – you gasped in shock. Looking up, you knew Iroh’s eye was on Zuko. As it always was. You duck down, rushing to the railing. Below the ice had cracked where the ship had broken through.

Grabbing the railing, you jumped over it, swaying your hand up. A trail of water spiralled up, flowing around you as it slowed your descend. Your feet hit the ice as the water splashed on the ice. Ignoring Zuko’s order, you needed to see it for yourself.  Keeping yourself low to avoid Iroh spotting you, you snuck up in haste to the village.  

You neared the entrance of the village, eyes wide with shock of what you saw. People running around. The soldiers causing fires to scare them into handing over the Avatar. You snuck into the village trying to look for the Avatar. A deranged fire blast went your way as it hit an igloo near you. The impact made you duck down, receiving some exploded ice on your back.

“It isn’t save here!” – A boy called out, taking your hand as he pulled you away from the burning igloo. He came to a stop, taking a moment to fully look at you. – “Who are you?” – he asked, still holding your hand. You panicked pulling your hand out of his and taking a run for it. – “Hey!” – the boy called out coming after you.

He knew everyone from his village, yet you were unfamiliar. He got stopped in his tracks by fire. Looking over his shoulder, he saw his sister. – “Katara hide!” – he shouted with a wave of his arm. You came to a stop seeing the Avatar in the air. Never did you think you’d see the Avatar.

Your gaze got pulled away by a hard pull on your wrist. Forcing you to look another way. Zuko’s way. – “You ignored my order!” – Zuko shouted at you, tugging hard on your wrist. You tried pulling your wrist out of his grip as he held it tight. – “I’m not your soldier!” – you yelled back at him. Zuko glared at you. – “Get back to the ship!” – he ordered with anger. – “I will stay!” – you stood your ground, not wanting to leave. – “Y/n! Get. To. The. Ship.” – he repeated trying to compose himself.

Feeling himself boil with anger over you. Angry that you deliberately ignored his order. You pulled your wrist out of his grip with force. – “I didn’t sign up for this!” – you replied with fury. – “For what?” – Zuko fired back. – “These are my people Zuko!” – you told him. – “I just want the Avatar!” – he responded. In the corner of his eye, he saw a spear heading your way. Zuko tensed his jaw, grabbing you as he tackled you to the ground. Rolling over in the snow as the spear flew over your heads.

You laid in the snow, feeling Zuko half on top of you. His hand protective on your head. He pulled you up as he created fire, bending it towards the tribe member who threw the spear at you. – “Zuko!” – you called out, pushing his arm down. – “The ship now!” – Zuko yelled with a rage unlike you had ever seen. Before you knew it, grabbed two of his men you by the arms. Dragging you out of the village back to the ship.

**

“Stay with the princess!” – Zuko ordered one of his men. They bowed as a response. – “Don’t let her out of your sight.” – he added tracking up the hill. Iroh right behind him. You followed in line as Zuko lead the expedition to capture the Avatar. Having been spotted on Kyoshi island. – “The Avatar is mine.” – Zuko said out loud.

Up on the hill was a bright blue light shining. Hinting the Avatar was up there. Up ahead you saw a water tribe girl take a stand as defence. She let her arms sway, letting a whip of water splash at Zuko’s feet. Zuko stopped, pulling his foot up to see the wetness on his shoes. – “Pathetic.” – he called out.

The girl furrowed her brows at the sight of you. – “Stand aside girl.” – Zuko ordered. The girl moved her hands up. – “You’ll have to go through me.” – she replied. Zuko laughed. – “That won’t be a problem.” – he answered preparing himself. He fired at her as she fell backwards onto the grass. A sudden gush of wind made you all look away. Zuko’s eyes widened when Avatar Kyoshi landed in front of them. With one wave of her fan, were you all pushed back by air. Falling back.

“Protect the princess!” – Zuko shouted as he tried to get back up. The soldier enlisted to keep you save, pulled you up by your arm. Dragging you away from the others. He led you down the hill through the woods. You had little time to stand still and think about what was happening. Soon you neared the town as the soldier kept a grip on you, looking constantly over his shoulder. You froze when a fan flashed at him, hitting him in the head. It knocked him down.

Your gaze met up with a young girl looking a lot like Avatar Kyoshi with her make-up. The same boy from the water tribe at her side. – “Hey I know you!” – he said with a confused point at you. – “You were at my tribe too.” – he stated with furrowed brows. You turned around taking a run for it. – “Hey wait!” – Sokka called out, coming after you with Suki. You stopped, brought your hands up your face, then you pushed them forwards. The crackling of ice sounding. Sokka and Suki looked down, their feet slippery on ice.

“She can bend.” – Suki told Sokka out of breath. Suki grabbed Sokka by his shirt, pulling him off the ice. They went back in pursuit. In the woods, you couldn’t tell the direction apart. Not knowing where it might lead you. – “Hey wait!” – Sokka shouted to get your attention. Panting you tried to stay ahead of them. You screamed when you nearly bumped into the girl that came out of nowhere. You fell back, caught off guard. – “Katara get her.” – Sokka called out, out of breath.

Katara took a stand, ready to whip you with water if you dared to move. – “Why are you with the fire nation?” – she asked rudely. Suki extended her hand to you as you accepted it, letting her help you up. – “Are you their prisoner?” – Sokka questioned as you remained silent. – “There’s no need to be scared.” – Suki spoke rubbing her hand on your back, soothingly. – “We’ll save you.” – Sokka responded proudly. Before you knew it, were you dragged along with them.

Zuko was panting, taking a look around. – “Where is the princess?” – he asked loud. All his men looked at each other uncertain. Zuko felt himself grow angrier. – “Where is Y/n!” – he shouted unleashing fire from his fists. – “Don’t worry Zuko, we’ll find her.” – Iroh said to sooth him. – “Find her!” – Zuko ordered to his men. – “Burn this entire island down if you must to find her!” – he moved his fist forward, a blast of fire hitting a tree as it set it on fire. His men scattered away in search of you. – “We’ll find her Zuko…” – Iroh spoke placing a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko brushed his hand harshly off. He was panting. Braising with anger that he had lost sight of you.

If this would’ve happened years ago, he would just leave, being glad to be rid of you. Now, he felt like he couldn’t. You weren’t around him for a few moments and he already missed the argues with you. He missed your presence, more than he would ever admit. It wasn’t easy being forced on this mission with someone you were signed up to marry. Yet you were there. Day in and out. You were there at every step of the way. The water tribe princess he learned to admire… in secret.

Admitting it to himself that he actually… cared was scary. You were a weakness. You still are a weakness to him. One he didn’t intended on. Zuko called it out, burning the trees nearby. A tree’s trunk cracked. The top bush falling to the side. Zuko narrowed his eyes when he saw something familiar blue trotting up the hill. Instead of one, he recognized three. Taking in deep breaths, he bald his hands into fists.

He called it out as the fire coming out of him startled Iroh. It was blazing hot. Iroh saw it now as well, swallowing nervously. – “Zuko…” – he started moving his hand forwards. Before he could reach Zuko, had Zuko ran off. Huffing and puffing with anger to get you back. The grass catching fire from where he passed. His wrath waiting to be unleashed.

“So why were you with the fire nation?” – Katara asked as she pushed you up the hill. – “It’s complicated.” – you answered. – “How is it complicated?” – Sokka asked scratching the back of his head. – “It’s…” – you started cut off by loud shouting. You leaped aside when a fire blast went your way. Looking back at the trail, you saw Zuko panting with anger. His fist out where the fire blast had come from.

“He’s back!” – Sokka called out, helping his sister back up. Sokka then rushed over to you, helping you up. – “We have to go.” – he told you. Zuko fired once more, preventing them from going further up the hill. – “You are not going anywhere with her!” – he made clear. Sokka pulled you behind him. – “She’s not your prisoner!” – Sokka shouted at Zuko.

“No.” – Zuko replied composing himself a bit. – “She’s my intended.” – he said out loud making Sokka’s jaw drop, gawking at Zuko. – “Now hands off before I burn you!” – Zuko threatened. Sokka immediately pulled his hands off you, having no intention to die. Zuko’s gaze met up with yours, softening as he extending his hand to you. – “Please…” – he asked.

The sincereness from him made you realize he’d truly cared for you. For long you didn’t think it was possible. But here he was burning bridges to get to you. You took a deep breath, making the intention to reach your hand out to him when a gush of wind knocked him back. The Avatar landed soundless between Zuko and you. – “Leave my friends alone!” – Aang called out.

Zuko pressed his fist into the ground, groaning in anger. He got up firing at Aang. Aang deflected his fire with a defence of his own. Aang swayed his stick, knocking Zuko further back down the hill. Zuko got back up, going with all his might against Aang. Using all his power against the Avatar in order to get you back. – “Wait!” – you called out loud. Aang and Zuko stopped.

Aang looking confused at you. – “Don’t hurt him.” – you told Aang. Aang stared dumbfound  at you. Zuko slowly got up as you ran up to him. Slamming yourself against his chest when he had gotten up. Your arms around him. Zuko moved his arms around you as well, lowering his head on your shoulder to feel your embrace deeper.

“I need you Y/n.” – Zuko whispered to you. You hugged him tighter as a response. – “Can someone explain to me what is happening?” – Aang said out loud, looking back at his friends. Sokka and Katara could only stare in shock at the two of you. – “They’re intended.” – Sokka said finding it hard to believe and finding it odd that he was saying it out loud. – “Huh?” – Aang responded.

“We should probably leave.” – Katara whispered to her brother. – “Good idea.” – he whispered back, slowly backing away. The three of them ran off. Zuko and you stopped embracing. He smiled at you, touching your cheek. You brought his hand down, keeping it in yours. Holding hands, you went back down the hill with Zuko.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[onmyyan]

Ain't no sunshine

Chapter 4

A/n: love this series, fem reader, yandere themes, platonic yandere Batfamily

Taglist: @uniquecutie-puffs @starsdotalk @ghostdoodlen @nickey-diano @76lonelyspoons @m3vl0vesu @uknowimdumb

"What's this about Gordon?" Damian asks after arriving in the dining room, he was perplexed by her message, what on earth would they need to speak about you of all people?

"(Y/n) moved out." Barbara says biting the bullet.

There was a moment of silence as her words registered before chaos broke out.

"What do you mean moved out?" Dick asks putting down the bagel he was eating his eyes held disbelief, "I mean I just checked her room and she's gone." Barbara says making his stomach lurch.

"We missed her birthday." Tim speaks suddenly realizing, his mind working a mile a minute. Jason curses under his breath at the revelation, how could he be such an idiot?

"You're wrong she wouldn't leave like that." Dick shook his head, the thought of you simply disappearing sent a wave of deep-seated unease through the family, and something else, something much darker had been born in that moment within each of them.

"Alfred confirmed it." Barbara says softly trying not to upset Dick further than he was.

Cass stood still before signing, "How could we not have noticed?"

Damian having enough of the conversation pulled out his phone calling your number, only to be met with the same answer Barbara got when she tried, his brows furrowed as the automated voice told him the number was disconnected. "Her phone's off." He speaks a pit forming in his stomach,

The Manor was quieter than usual.

That's the first thing Bruce notices when he wakes up that morning, an almost empty quiet filled the halls as he went from his bedroom to the study, he couldn't put his finger on what it was exactly and this bothered him to no end.

Alfred stood diligently by the marble counter top waiting for Bruce's instructions, "Good morning Alfred."

"Master Bruce." Alfred greeted him simply, rather curt for the old man, and Bruce notices this immediately, his mind racing on what he could have done to upset the man. "Is something wrong Alfred?"

"To be the world's greatest detective you can be incredibly dense." Alfred served him his coffee without another word and made Bruce feel like a child being scolded for something.

It wasn't until he walked by your room did his senses go off, it was much too quiet in there, knocking softly he found the door opening from the slightest touch. Alarm bells immediately start going off at just how empty it is, how void of life. He rushed downstairs, searching for Alfred to question him, when he saw his whole family gathered in the dining room.

They stare at him, all with that deer in a headlight look, "What?" He asks knowing something was up.

"(Y/n)'s gone." Dick speaks up, biting at his thumb, "And we missed her birthday." Jason adds on his guilt making his shoulders slump inward.

Bruce looks over to Alfred as if to confirm what he was told, the older man simply nods.

Meanwhile on the other side of Gotham, you're completely unaware of the chaos your absence is causing. Too busy enjoying your new life.

Bruce went to the cave immediately, checking the cameras for your form, he searched through a week of footage before he saw your graceful exit from the manor. A week. A fucking week you'd been gone and your own father hadn't noticed.

Bruce had felt like a true failure only a handful of times in his life, losing Jason, and now, you.

Only this time there was no Joker to blame, it was him. His fault his daughter felt the need to disappear without so much as a goodbye. The years of ignoring your presence simply because you were his 'easy child' the one he never had to worry about, the one who never made waves, come crashing down upon him, he rests his head on his hands, eyes never leaving the screen. "What have I done?" He speaks lowly, mind reeling from the shame of his inaction.

His blue eyes hardened at the sight of you on the screen, he could fix this, couldn't he? He just needed a second chance, he'd show you the love you deserved, the nurturing you needed, he didn't care that you were a legal adult now, (he winces at the thought of forgetting such an important birthday, he'd throw you the party of all parties once he got you home, he swore it.) you were his daughter, his youngest daughter, and you needed him no matter what you thought.

Dick Grayson prided himself on many things, one of which being his bond with his family, so to be faced with the reality that he wasn't the best big brother around, kind of shatters him. He refused to accept the fact that his, along with everyone else's actions, lead to your choice to abandon them, instead he reasoned, you were feeling rebellious, youthful energy and all that, he was sure once you got this out of your system you'd be right back where you belonged. Where he could keep an eye on you, a proper eye this time.

Jason fumes silent, pacing the kitchen, he feels like a cat is clawing at his skin from the inside, unable to do anything with his pent up frustration he grips the counter top hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. He hated himself right now, hated how garbage he felt, you were only eighteen, all on your lonesome in a city like Gotham? It was enough to set the hairs on his neck on edge.

Tim was busy on his tablet, he was already searching the city's CCTV cameras for any trace of you, his fingers working so fast they cramped, sweat drips down his brow as he searched, unable to tear himself away from his task. He felt maybe just maybe if he found you, he could begin to make up for how shitty he'd treated you, begin to open up to you in the way you'd always wanted. He needed to find you, and based on the usually composed family's obvious panic, it needed to be fast.

Barbara busied herself with rummaging through your empty room for anything she could use to find you, if she just had the chance to explain herself, she's sure you'd understand, sure you'd look at her with that expression you had when you were younger, like she was your personal hero.

Cassandra finds herself staring out at the distant view of Gotham, her hands twitching at her sides as she struggles not to take action, sure she didn't have a bond with you like she did with the others but she still cared for you, from a distance, she felt it was safer as you were the only civilian in the family. A choice she thinks now was a mistake. Maybe if she'd let her walls down a little more, you'd have confided in her instead of leaving.

Damian, in his rage, wasted no time heading to the cave to suit up, there he found his Father, still leaning over the computer table. "What are you doing?" Bruce asks barley looking away from the screen. "What do you think? Going to find that idiot before she gets herself killed." He seethes yanking on his tactical gloves.

"Damian -"

"How dare she leave us- we are a family." He spits the word out like it's a curse, "You don't leave your family." He reiterates slamming his hands into the table holding various gadgets. "I'm going to find that fool and drag her back here." He promised.

"Just hold on for a moment." Bruce stands walking over to his son to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, "We have no idea where she is, let us do some recon. Tim will find her address in no time, if she's still in Gotham we'll find her within the week."

Damian hesitantly agreed to his father's reasoning.

It takes them a week to find you, you were very good at hiding your tracks, using only cash, staying in shady areas because they weren't monitored, it's only when you post a selfie with some new friends do they lock your location down.

Tim took five minutes to himself to stare at the photo before alerting the family, he found it after all, he felt entitled to it, to the joy on your face, the other people in the picture made it easier to find you, first he found their names, then their addresses and used that along with the small bits of background he could see to triangulate your new address.

He'd never seen that look on your face, it was a casual cocky sort of grin, one that said you were genuinely enjoying yourself. He couldn't fathom how you were so happy without them, it sort of hurt his feelings, but at the same time he needed to see more of that smile, see what other expressions you made, he'd only ever seen that sad dejected look on your face, he huffs to himself, saving the picture for himself before sending the info to the group chat.

Bruce decided to let one of his kids do the interacting with you, feeling too ashamed to face you yet, he sends Dick, knowing you once looked up to him.

You're three hours into a horror movie marathon, courtesy of the box TV you stole off the back of a moving truck, when someone knocks at your door.

You don't pause the movie, using it as cover to tip toe towards the door, sure it was still early in the night, but everything was dangerous in Gotham.

You don't say a word, sneakily looking through the grimey peephole all you can make out is a tall dark haired man.

He knocks again causing you to flinch. Swiping knife out the drawer, you hide it behind your back before swinging open the door expecting the people you'd stolen the TV from or maybe one of the thugs you'd beaten black and blue, not Dick Grayson.

"Hey little bird." He greets like an old time friend, not the man who'd ignored you your entire relationship.

"How the fuck- what are you doing here?" You sigh revealing the knife as you rest your hand on your hip, exasperated by his mere presence. He eyes the knife before laughing, "I like the energy, good call living in this neighborhood." He invites himself inside, scrutinizing your apartment, a deep sigh leaving his lips, "You shouldn't be living like this-"

"Hold the fuck on." You point the knife at him accusingly, "You didn't know I existed a week ago, now you barge into my home," you emphasize with another point, "shit all over it and start lecturing me about how I should live?" You stare at him like he's grown another head before laughing, he friend stepping closer, "I'm ...I'm sorry, I know I forgot your birthday - we forgot, but you didn't need to run away-"

"I didn't run from shit." Crossing your arms, "I'm an adult, I moved out." You say pointedly.

"Be that as it may- you should have said something, do you have any idea how worried we've been?" He pleads, brows furrowed, "I know you're mad, you've every right to be, but this isn't safe." He gestures to your apartment. "I walked past a drug deal on the way up here ya know." He chides like he's scolding s child.

"Come back to the manor." He says softly, stepping closer once more, until he could touch your shoulder, "no need to leave the nest so soon." You stare at his hand, then him, before pointing the knife at him, your hand steady,

"Get the fuck outta my house."

Dick leaves reluctantly, he was determined to bring you home, thought you'd jump in his arms for a hug once he showed up, but you didn't, you looked at him with disgust, anger, and a hint of fear, he hated it. He wanted you to look up at him like the big brother he was, not like your enemy.

You're panting after the encounter, knife clattering to the ground, you follow shortly after, collapsing as your mind tried to process the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you.

It was a storm, so you latched on to the one feeling that would anchor you, rage.

You don't sleep that night. And it's a good thing because Damian is breaking through your window lock like it was the easiest thing, he enters your home, face deadset in a glare. "You left the manor for this shit hole?" He almost laughs, his hand on his sword makes you incredibly nervous. "What's it matter to you? Thought you'd be thrilled." You roll your eyes, too exhausted to deal with another one of them in such a short time period.

"You've disrupted the natural flow in the manor with this little stunt." He seethes, "I'm going to restore it." He states as if speaking a fact. "How prey tell do you intend on doing that, you massive twat?" He simply smirks before looking behind you, you turn around and see Jason leaning against the wall, his red hood mask on, obstructing his facial expression, making him all the more unnerving.

"You're a long way from home." Jason says kicking off the wall, moving to hover behind you, "Why are you here?! Okay I'm officially over this reunion, out." You point to the window they entered from.

"Oh we're leaving, just not without you." Jason chimes up his hand hovering over his guns, fingers twitching.

To your defense, you did try and run, but it was no use, they were on you faster than you could process, a sweet smelling cloth is pressed to your mouth, and as much as you fight it, eventually you need to breathe, it takes one good inhale for the chloroform to kick in, you slump in someone's hold you're unsure of which one and your world fades to black.

I

[classyrbf]

STILL IN LOVE! #12 — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...after still messing around with your ex husband, you began to wonder if you’re still in love with him after finding out about his new girlfriend…only to realize it’s much more complicated than you led on

INFO...ex husband!toji x fem!reader, reader & toji have two kids, megumi is readers bio son, jealousy, smut, angst, arguments, alcohol, drinking problem, family problems, arguing in front of kids, toxic behaviors, crying, mentions of divorce, mentions of jail, blood, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

series masterlist

As soon as you stepped back inside the house you immediately made your way over to the bedroom to grab your phone. Your head was still spinning from what just happened. Your heart was pounding so fast you could hear it in your ears. The thought of Toji going to jail made you anxious, scared. You two finally started off on the right foot, making little progress each day and you didn’t want to tell the kids that their father was in jail. Hell, you didn’t even know how long he’d be in jail for this kind of shit. You didn’t have the money to bail him out, whatever the cost may be. But you had an idea of who might.

Quickly, you called Gojo. The phone rang while you chewed on your bottom lip, leg bouncing up and down nervously while you waited. “Hello?” It was like a weight lifted off of your shoulders upon hearing his voice.

“Gojo, thank god you fucking answered,” you sighed.

“Y/n? Oh no…what’d he do this time? Better be worth you waking me up for,” he yawned.

You let out a soft chuckle before explaining, “he’s in jail, or is gonna end up in jail—”

“Hold up, what?” Gojo jumped up, brows furrowing at your words.

“To make a long story short, my ex boyfriend came over this morning while toji was here, he said some shit toji didn’t like and toji beat the shit outta him. Cops were called and they dragged both of them away and said toji will most likely go to jail,” you explained, biting the inside of your cheek.

“And I’m guessing you need me to bail him out? Yeah?”

“Yes…Gojo, please. Me and Toji…we were doing good and the kids and it’s just—”

“Listen, call Shoko to pick the kids up after school and I’ll be over in a little bit,” he said.

“Thank you.”

Toji sat in the chair, hands laying flat on the desk as he waited in the dingy questioning room. He felt like some big time criminal, considering what happened. He was annoyed, having to go through this whole process over a simple fight. “People are pussies,” he muttered to himself. Nanami should’ve kept his mouth shut, especially about the kids. He should’ve left when you asked him to and instead he kept on going.

All Toji could think about was you, wondering if you were disappointed in him, upset or even at your breaking point with him. He promised he wouldn’t mess up his chance, and yet here is sitting in a police station with the high probability of being put behind bars. He impatiently tapped his foot on the ground, the buzzing sound of the overhead fluorescent lights making his head pound. The slight cut on lip still stung everytime he licked his lips, a faint taste of blood on his tongue.

A knock at the door snapped him from his thoughts, a police officer walking in and flashing a quick, fake smile at Toji. “Alright, Mr…Fushiguro.” The man took a seat across from Toji and it couldn’t help but make his eye twitch.

“When can I leave?” Were the first words that came out of his mouth. “I need to see my wife and kids.”

The officer chuckled, shaking his head. “Not until we get your side of the story. We already questioned Mr. Nanami, and we got your wife’s—ex wife’s side as well, so you’re next. Mind telling me what happened from beginning to end?” The officer clicked the blue pen his had in his hand, flipping the next page in his notepad.

“I woke up, made breakfast for my wife and shortly after she woke up as well. We talked for a little, didn’t even get to sit down and eat before the doorbell rang. She answered it and I looked over to see it was her ex boyfriend at the door,” he mumbles, not once shifting his gaze.

“You say she’s your wife and you say Mr. Nanami is he ex boyfriend. But he says that you two are divorced,” the officer adds.

“We are but we plan on working things out, so she’s my wife.” The officer nods are Toji’s words, scribbling it down on the white paper. “I walk over to the door and stand behind her, and they’re having a conversation about their relationship. She told they broke up—he broke up with her because of me and our relationship. Fair enough. She respected it and realized that maybe me and her should work stuff out because of our kids—”

“So why exactly did he show up?” The officer cocks his head to the side.

“To apologize and get her back. Why else would he be there? She didn’t want to and that’s when shit hit the fan.” Toji shrugged.

“By ‘shit hit the fan’ you mean when started saying nasty comments? Your wife said he began belittling her, talking about your kids and your relationship? Am I correct?” His brows raise, the tip of the pen to his paper.

“She asked him to leave, and he wouldn’t. He was saying stuff about how are relationship wouldn’t last and how I only wanted to keep her around for…sex. Then he brought up my kids, and that’s when I knocked his ass to floor. Sound bout right?” Toji blinked, completely uninterested.

“You say she asked him to leave and he wouldn’t?” The officer glances up at him for a quick second.

“Yeah,” toji responds.

“Just one more question, you don’t live there right?” The officer folded his hands in front of him.

Toji hesitated to answer. He knew if he said no, they’d probably charge him, but he said yeah, he’d be lying but he probably won’t get charged due to fact Nanami was most likely trespassing. “I do. Been living there for about a month.”

“Alright, that’s all I needed to know. Be back in few.” The chair screeched against the floor as the officer stood and walked out the room.

With a roll of Toji’s eyes he let out a scoff. “Fucking pigs.”

You paced back and forth in the living room, nervously biting at your nails, anticipating the moment Gojo knocked on the door. You couldn’t believe this was happening. It was like the universe had placed some kind of curse on you. Was it so hard to have one good day? Apparently so. The sound of knocking pulled you from your thoughts, wasting no time to unlock the door where you were met with Gojo himself, in sweatpants, a hoodie, and his hair disheveled. It was weird not seeing him dress up for once.

“Gojo.” You quickly hugged him.

“Hey, hey.” He hugged back, stepping into your house. “So, what the fuck happened? Did he seriously get arrested?” He shook his head in confusion.

You let out a deep sigh, just the thought of talking about it made you feel tired, annoyed, upset. You weren’t sure what you were. “Yes? I mean, they dragged both of them away, but Toji hit first.” You plopped down on the couch, holding your head in your hands. “He’s most likely going to jail.”

“He is going to jail,” Gojo corrected. “If they find out he doesn’t live here, and that he swung first…jail time!” Gojo sat beside you. “Depends on how much your ex boyfriend is willing to tell.” He glanced at you.

You groaned in annoyance, falling back onto the plush cushions. “Okay, but he was talking about our kids and saying all shit to me and—”

“You think cops give a shit? All they care about is sending whoever to jail. Toji or whatever his name is. And knowing Toji’s record with the police, he’s not making it out of this one.” Gojo reached into his pocket pulling out a piece of candy. “Want some?”

You glared at him, blinking. Was he serious? “Did you seriously bring candy?” You asked, looking at the piece of taffy he held between his fingers.

“Yeah, I had a whole bag of ‘em. Anyway, you want it?” He held it out to you.

“Gojo, can we please focus right now? What if he gets let off without a warning? That’s good right?” Someway somehow you’re hoping that’s the best possible outcome in this situation.

“Well, then excellent. Wait, did he like bash his face in? Or how bad are we talking?” Gojo narrowed his eyes.

“Gojo, I don’t know! For fucks sake!” You rose to your feet, stress levels rising higher. “How do we even know he’s in jail? He’s probably locked up as we speak!” You were panicking and you weren’t exactly why. Gojo said he’d bail him out for you, so coming up with money wasn’t a problem. It’s the fact that you felt like this was entirely your fault. Your relationship with Kento and your relationship with Toji, everything came crashing down. As a grown woman with two kids, you’d think you’d know better and know how to confront your own feelings without getting others involved but apparently that was impossible for you.

Though, it’s not like you expect Kento to show up on your doorstep this morning wanting to take you back. You felt horrible. He was a good man, sweet and kind, and you, you were still stuck on your ex husband and clearly that hurt him. You were sorry for that, you take responsibility that. But that gave him no excuse to bring your kids into this. Everything about this was so fucked up. Even more than before.

“Listen, relax. They’ll allow him some phone calls if they do lock him up. He will most likely call you, and you’ll spill the great news to him! No problem!” Gojo shrugged it off, reaching into his pocket to pull out another piece of taffy.

“It’s been like three hours already.” You huff.

“Then he’s probably locked up,” he casually said, popping the candy into his mouth.

“Can you take this seriously for one second?” You you take a deep breath, finding the inner strength not to yell and cuss Gojo out just because you were extremely overwhelmed.

“I am! Listen, you know he’s been in jail before! He’s fine!” Gojo swatted his hand, brushing off the situation like it was so casual.

“Yeah, with you! When you two got into that stupid ass bar fight and Shoko and Geto called me at three in the fucking morning!” Your nostrils flared, rolling your eyes at the man in front of you.

“No need to dwell on the past—wait, is that—”

“What?” You looked at Gojo, eyes wide.

“Is that your phone?” He stands up.

You run towards your bedroom, nearly tripping over your own feet as the sound of your phone ringing grew louder. “Fuck where is it?” Your eyes scanned over your dresser and nightstand before you standing tearing your blankets off of the bed. Your phone flew to the floor and you quickly grabbed it, seeing it was an unsaved number. Fuck.

“Hello? Toji?” Your voice shook as you spoke. You could hear slight breathing on the other end.

“Baby…”

tag list (closed):

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[carmenberzattosgf]

okay but imagine carmy’s first time without the condom☝️😊 how he’d ask you if you’re sure so many times beforehand and when he’s finally inside he has to hold you still because damn! that feels almost too good! and it’s even worse if it’s the first time he cums inside too -💫

Carmy has you stripped naked within ten minutes of knocking your apartment door. You fall back on the mattress and watch as he quickly takes off his shirt and pants.

He crawls over top of you next, meeting your lips for a series of hot, messy kisses. He’s still wearing his boxers, so you take it upon yourself to push down his waistband so he can kick them off. He groans into your mouth when you grip his cock and lightly stroke him, spreading precum down his length.

“Need you to fuck me, Carm. Please—don’t wanna be teased. Just need you.” Carmy usually insists on eating you out first, but you want him inside of you.

“Y-yeah—I’ll take care of you.” He pauses for a moment, realization hitting him. “Shit! I don’t have a condom.”

“I wasn’t expecting you, or I would have bought some,” you giggle. He showed up tonight completely unannounced. He kissed you with hunger when you opened the door, making it clear what he needed from you.

“Sorry, I uh—just had to see you. Couldn’t stop thinking about you all day at work—shit—“ his voice falters as you stroke his dick again. More precum forms at his tip. “I can eat you out?” He offers.

“Want you, Carmy. I’m on birth control, it’ll be fine.”

You feel his cock pulse in your hand from your words.

“Are you—are you saying—“

“Please, Carm. I want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck—are you sure? Shit, I can run down the block to the corner store if you want me to.”

By hooking a leg around his waist, you press Carmy in closer to you, lining him up with your entrance.

“M‘positive. Want you to fuck me. Please,” you beg. Carmy doesn’t take much convincing, though. He sinks into you slowly. A broken gasp leaves his mouth as the head of his cock slips into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’ve never—never done this without a condom—holy fuck, baby.”

“S’good, Carmen. Filling me up so, so good—shit,” you whine as he completely bottoms out inside of you. He’s pulsing inside of you, and panting into your ear. You can’t help but move you hips to feel his cock nudge against your walls.

“Fuck. Stop. Stop moving,” he says through clenched teeth, gripping your hips to keep you still. “Just—just give me a second.”

You know better than to press your luck, so you run your fingers through his hair as he rests his forehead on your shoulder.

“Shit—so—so wet—fuck,” he murmurs. “Didn’t know it could feel like this. M’not going to last long. God—“

“Carmen—please move. Please—“ you beg. “Don’t care if you don’t last—want you to fill me up.”

“Holy shit, baby.” You watch Carmy’s eyes go dark. He was planning on pulling out and cumming on your stomach, but now that option is off the table. You want him to pump you full of his cum, and that thought alone makes his cock twitch.

Once he starts fucking into you, Carmy’s pace is relentless. He’s holding onto you for dear life, arms wrapped around your frame. He’s not hiding his face in your neck, though. He’s resting his forehead on yours so he can watch your face as you take his cock. Whenever he’s not kissing you, he has his bottom lip inbetween his teeth to contain the sounds of his moaning.

“So tight—so fucking warm, baby. Perfect for me. God, you’re perfect.”

“Carmy, Carmy—I can’t—m’gonna—“

“Soak my cock. Let me feel it,” he commands. He moves one of his hands to circle your clit with his thumb, and that sends you over the edge. Carmy’s pace grows sloppy and erratic. His forehead moves to rest on your shoulder, so he can look down and watch his cock thrust in and out of you.

The pulsing of your cunt around him with zero separation pulls a broken groan out of his lips, but he’s still trying to hang on for you. His hips fuck into you roughly, pounding into you hard and deep.

“Carm—cum in me. Fill me up—wanna feel you spill out of me—“ you cry. He lets himself go at your words, biting into your shoulder as his hips press as far into you as possible. You feel him throb inside of you, filling you up with cum.

You both lay in bed for who knows how long to catch your breath. Carmy’s still inside of you, keeping you plugged up with his load. He’s the first one to break the silence.

“Baby, I don’t think I can go back to using a condom again after that— I’ll pay for you to get an IUD, or an implant, or whatever you want.”

“Deal.”

[lurochar]

The Buck Stops Here

His shadow must be punished. You find out Alastor did not put his shadow up to your little play date.

Warnings: Reader's name game sucks

18+ MDNI

Part 1 + Part 3

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

“Oh, dear.”

It hit him in more than just one way as soon as he entered your shared room. He had used his shadow travel to simply slip in the hotel without bothering to talk to the others, wanting to greet you first to bring up his mood.

It had been an irritating day, dealing with territorial disputes and all. 

He hadn’t bothered to knock and just bypassed the door, emerging from the floor and expecting a cheerful greeting from you when his senses were seemingly all bombarded all at once.

The room smelled almost entirely of you – of your sweat, of your tears, of your cum.

He almost found himself thanking some unknown deity he had not called upon his shadow earlier that day, otherwise, he would have been put in a highly uncomfortable situation where he would have no other choice but to slaughter any and all witnesses.

His shadow was a part of him after all – it felt what he felt and vice versa.

Though it sometimes did go rogue.

Alastor knew his blasted shadow liked to watch and never really thought much of it, but he never imagined it would take the visuals as knowledge and actually use it against you.

“I believe I told you to behave, didn’t I?” Alastor finally spoke, watching with a tight smile as his shadow’s ears perked up – as if it was only just realizing he was standing in the room – and its head lazily lifted from its position between your legs.

You were passed out.

He vaguely wondered how long his shadow had you going for if the scent of you was this strong and taking another inhale, Alastor could feel drool drip down his fangs and his antlers growing.

His shadow had the nerve to lick the slick from its lips before it chattered at him, resting its head back on your thigh and licking the skin there. You shivered unconsciously, letting out a sigh and the shadow cooed at your sleeping form.

“What. Did. You. Just. Say?” A screech of static escaped him before Alastor could help it and he quickly looked over to see if it woke you. Luckily, it did not and he felt his eye twitching in annoyance. “You do know this is the opposite of ‘behaving’, don’t you?”

The shadow actually seemed to huff at him, snuggling deeper against you while its ears twitched wildly as if to mock him. It let out a series of chirps and titters before settling down again.

Alastor felt his own ears twitch. “Cute? She thought it was ‘cute’?” He murmured, his expression scrunching with bewilderment.

Would a moment of bliss be worth it in exchange for the humiliation? Of you stroking his ears for a bleat? Sex was the only time he could not control the damned little noises and so, he had been very careful in not allowing you to touch that part of him during.

His shadow chittered again from its place and Alastor did not give it a response. Instead, he snapped his fingers a few times, regretfully clearing the room of your heavenly scent. 

The bed and sheets were cleaned next and you didn’t even stir when Alastor cleansed you of your bodily fluids. The shadow snickered when Alastor eyed him for a moment and the snicker instantly turned into a whimper with his next words.

“Since you couldn’t behave, I won’t allow you to watch for the next week.”

(So harsh, Master!)

–

“Tell me, Darling.”

You try to talk, you really do, but how are you supposed to, with a tentacle shoved in your mouth? All you can do is let out muffled moans and heaving sobs when you feel Alastor’s fingers trail up and down your thigh.

What are you supposed to tell him?

“You have been a naughty little brat, my dearest Doe.” Alastor purred, grinning wide as more tentacles appeared from the shadows, wrapping around you and restricting any and all movement. “And brats must be punished, don’t they?”

What are you supposed to tell him!?

Alastor spreads your legs, before throwing them over his broad shoulders. “What do you want? I want to hear it from you.” He teased, just barely rubbing at your folds as you tried to bite down on the tentacle gagging you. “What would a fitting punishment be? Should I leave you wanting, needy and begging for more?”

You could feel his thumb swipe over your clit, beginning to rub the bundle of nerves in tight little circles and you clenched your eyes shut, feeling that familiar warmth heat up in your belly. You tried to arch up into his touch, but the tentacles allowed no movement.

“Open your eyes.” Alastor commanded, his thumb leaving your clit and you whimpered, quickly complying as his fingers went to stroke your cheek, smearing your slick across your heated skin, “Keep your eyes on me, dearest.”

You gasped as the appendage from your mouth retracted, drool trailing down your lips as tears began to form in the corner of your eyes, “A-Alastor.” You choked, “W-what am I… I supposed to..?” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he cut you off.

“Should I fuck you with my fingers? My tongue? Are you greedy tonight, Darling? Do you want my cock?” Alastor smirked as you gaped at him, before throwing your head back and letting out a wail when a tentacle slid up into your dripping cunt. “Where have your words gone?”

You see stars when the tentacle jams up against that spot in your pussy and your toes curl almost painfully. “F-fu–” You panted as another appendage toyed with your clit, knowing you’re on the edge and about to fall over any second now.

“Language, Darling, language.” Alastor sighed in mock disappointment, ceasing all movement and you almost sob at your broken orgasm. Should he ask while you’re incoherent? It seemed a little more entertaining that way, certainly. “What did that damn shadow of mine tell you?” 

Huh?

What?

Your brain isn’t exactly completely in the realm of reality when you feel the tentacle slowly slip out of you, wriggling against your wet walls and leaving you clenching nothing but air. “S-shadow?” Ah, that’s right – you haven’t seen Alastor’s shadow in a day or two. “W-where is… where is Shadowy?”

Shadowy?

‘Shadowy’?

You gave it a name?

(And one as simple as that!?)

“As a result of misbehaviour,” Alastor’s grin widened, fangs gritting in irritation. He shuffled his position, “it must be disciplined. Deprivation of you – an entire week’s worth – should be sufficient in teaching it a lesson.” He gripped your hips, fucking his cock into your slippery hole. “Must you think of my shadow when I am right here, my dearest Doe?”

“H-hah!” Your eyes rolled back, feeling your arms strain as they were still restrained above your head by Alastor’s tentacles. “I-I…” It felt good, your mind felt like mush, but Alastor wanted something out of you, didn’t he? “I thought… you put Shadowy up to it.” 

Alastor gradually unravelled the appendages from your restrained arms, watching as his drool dripped down into your face while he deepened his thrusts, each deeper, harder, and faster. “You believe I would reveal such a… humiliating secret about myself?”

Your glazed over eyes seemed to gain coherency with his words. “Your shadow is a part of you, right?”  Your arms trembled. “Maybe, maybe you did? I would never make fun of you, Alastor. I love you.”

Alastor tensed, but wrapped his hands around your wrists, slowly bringing your arms up to his head. Your hands shook and his ears flattened against his skull. “Well? I would like to get this over with.” His grin seemed to wobble.

You squeezed his ears and jumped, watching in awe as Alastor’s eyes instantly shut and he quivered. “Harder, dearest.” Your warm wet walls were starting to flutter around him and he felt the sound get caught up in his throat. “Fuck!”

Once more, another squeeze.

And you finally shattered.

“A-Ala–!” You whimpered, feeling Alastor bury his face in the crook of your neck and you clamped down on his cock, just barely hearing that same sound you had heard with his shadow even through your bliss. “Alastor.” You hesitantly stroked his ears, becoming more assured when he relaxed against you.

“Fuck.” Alastor twitched inside you, shuddering after his own pleasure. He kept humping into you, trying to fuck his cum deeper in you until you whined in clear overstimulation. “Oh hush now.”

He hoped you didn’t hear it.

That sad little bleat.

“I… I like it.” You finally said after long yet comfortable silence. Alastor seemed to let out a huff and you did too. “I mean it! It’s… ‘en-deering’!” 

“Please Darling, no.”

----

Taglist:

@cosmiccandydreamer

[prythianpages]

A Field of Dandelions | Azriel

azriel x green witch reader | Your High Lady calls upon you. requesting a remedy that only you know how to make. It requires specific ingredients found between the courts of spring and autumn and you're in need of an escort. Unfortunately for you, she assigns her Shadowsinger to accompany you. The Shadowsinger who hates you...or so you thought.

“Please don’t talk to me like that.”

“Why?”

“It’s cruel and heartless and you don’t even realize.”

warnings: angst but with fluff at the end, mentions of self-hate/abuse. pretty much Azriel thinking he's not worthy of a mate.

a/n: I've been re-reading the Shatter Me series and there's a scene between Aaron and Juliette that drove me to make this along with the song Dandelions by Ruth B. The dialogue above is directly from the book Unravel Me. I used them as a writing prompt along with the general gist of the scene and added my own twist to it. I just wanted to put that disclaimer out there.

The door opens before you can even knock and your dear friend and High Lady pulls you into a warm hug. She beckons you inside with a smile and your eyes dart around the various paintings adorning the walls, finding that some are new.

Surprise etches onto your features when your eyes land on the Night Court’s Spymaster. He stands at the end of one of the winding staircases with his usual stoic expression. Still as devastatingly handsome as always. You drop your gaze as quickly as you had met his and if he notices it, he doesn’t let it show. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge your presence.

Your ears pick up on faint crying. It grows louder and louder. Turning your head toward the source, your eyes land on Nyx. Despite being in the comfort of his father’s arms, his little features contort in pain. You greet your High Lord with a bow of your head, noticing the exhaustion on his face that mirrors Feyre’s.

“Is Mor on her way?” You ask, adjusting the strap of your bag. It’s full with all necessary tools and equipment you need for your venture.

Feyre had requested if you could make a tonic to sooth Nyx’s aches while he’s teething but your apothecary shop was unfortunately out of the main ingredient. Dandelion root. Not just any dandelion root but the ones that grow in the soil between the courts of Spring and Autumn and given the current tensions in Prythian and your status as a former Spring court inhabitant, it was not safe for you to go alone.

“Oh,” Feyre says as she takes the babe into her arms. You coo at Nyx and he blinks up at you, his crying coming to a stop. His lips tug up into a small smile and he wraps a tiny hand around your finger. “She is unfortunately caught up in Vallahan.”

“So then Cassian is to escort me today?” You ask again, looking up at your friend.

You catch the way she looks at Rhysand. They share a look and you know they’re communicating to each other through their mind. It’s Rhysand who answers you this time.

“Cassian isn’t fond of the spring, allergies and all.”

The Shadowsinger steps forward and your smile falls. You turn back to your friend, who gives you a sheepish smile in return.

“Azriel will be escorting you today.”

You almost want to say no. The thought of being alone with Azriel makes your stomach churn with unease and something else that you can’t quite discern at the moment. But Nyx begins to squirm in his mother’s arms with a pout and Feyre’s eyebrows knit in concern.

“Okay,” you sigh.

“Thank you so much for doing this,” Feyre says.

“Our son’s life is in your hands.”

Feyre slaps her husband’s arm with a roll of her eyes. “He’s not dying, Rhys,” she grumbles. “He’s just in some discomfort from teething.”

She then turns to Azriel with a stern look. The corner of her lips threatened to betray her. “Be nice.”

**

Azriel’s shadows envelop you both, whisking you away to the forest of the Spring Court. It was the safest of the two courts to winnow directly to. The air in the dense woods hangs heavy with the scent of blooming blossoms and you’re thankful for the muffled sounds of nature as it provides a soothing background noise, saving you from the awkward silence between you and the impassive Shadowsinger.

Azriel walks ahead, his movements graceful and quiet. His shadows cling to him like the loyal companions they are but some hover over your boots, silencing your own steps. 

He finally breaks the silence. “You’re staring.”

You shift your gaze immediately and wonder if he can also sense the pink that dusts your slightly flustered face. “I’m just surprised you’re the one escorting me,” you answer honestly.

“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” he responds cryptically.

A slight tension settles between you, your heartbeat quickening as you follow him through the forest. “Right,” you say, your face growing pinker.

You shift the weight of your bag to your other shoulder and Azriel comes to a sudden stop. He turns, his hazel eyes scanning you for a moment. Without a word, he takes the bag from your arm, effortlessly hoisting it over his shoulder. 

The unexpected gesture catches you off guard, and a quiet "thanks" escapes your lips. “You’re being awfully nice today,” you can’t help but observe, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in your tone “I think this is the most you’ve talked to me since we met.”

Azriel’s lips curve into an almost-smile. A rare sight that sends a flutter through your chest. “My High Lady told me to be nice.”

“Right,” you repeat quietly to yourself as you exhale, a futile effort to calm your fluttering nerves. It’s almost embarrassing the effect Azriel has on you and as the butterflies in your stomach stir, you hope that the rest of the day unfolds quickly.

**

Mates. Two individuals predestined to be together, brought together by unseen forces and an irresistible bond. Azriel once wondered if he had a mate but after centuries of living, he began to wonder if he was simply destined to be alone.

When his brothers found their mates and he still hadn’t found his, he started to think he was far beyond the reach of love. It was a blessing he could not have. He didn’t need a mate, so he convinced himself he didn’t want one. Romance was not part of his duties and he was starting to come to terms with the fact. 

That is, until, he met you.

Nestled right on the outskirts of the area known as the Rainbow of Velaris was a quaint shop. The wooden sign above, engraved with dark letters spelling out Nightrose Apothecary, swayed gently in the cool morning breeze. Azriel had ignored the frenzied whirlwind of his shadows as he stepped into the shop.

Shelves made of twisted vines and wood were neatly arranged with rows of glass jars containing colorful powders, dried herbs and exotic roots. A friendly black cat, lounging on the sunlit windowsill, blinked at him in greeting. As he stepped further into the shop, his senses became overwhelmed with the prominent scent of lavender and chamomile.

Behind a worn, wooden counter is where you stood. You hummed to yourself, immersed in the book in front of you. He found himself unable to take his eyes off of you as you skimmed over the rough edged pages, your fingertips carrying an enchanting green glow and eyes filled with darkness. 

You were a witch but it was no surprise to him. He had heard about you. You were a good friend of Feyre’s. One of the few people she could trust during her time in the Spring court. When the Spring Court fell into chaos, Feyre had brought you with her and helped you open up this shop.

His steps were silent and he’s sure you’re unaware of his presence, so he shifted, parting his mouth to speak–

“Hello, Shadowsinger.”

His steps faltered, eyes widening for a fleeting moment.

When you finally lifted your gaze to meet his, his eyes locked with yours and something deep within him awakened. An exhilarating feeling like no other. He felt light. He felt alive. And he was almost afraid to blink, not wanting the feeling to end.

His shadows peeked out from behind his limbs, curious to see what had their master in a chokehold. They dispersed from his body in a thrilled dance as the darkness left your eyes, revealing their natural color. They’re beautiful and sparkling with kindness, even as his shadows disobey his silent orders and slither up your arms in a cool greeting.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself apologizing, a slight tint in his cheeks. “They usually don’t do that.”

“It’s okay,” you brushed off his worry and he felt lightheaded and bewitched at the smile you directed toward him. “What brings you here?”

Azriel can’t help but feel that you already know why he’s there. He pulled his gaze away, choosing to focus on the crystal orbs on the counter instead. “My High Lady recommended I come to you. I’ve been having trouble…sleeping.”

The green glow returned to your fingertips as you beckoned a small clear vial from one of the shelves behind you. It’s filled with a silver liquid that glistened as it moved, mirroring the twinkle of the stars that light up the night sky.

“This should help.” You told him as you held out the vial to him. “Take a sip before you’re ready for bed and it should quickly pull you into a restful slumber. Some say it even brings forth sweet dreams.”

Azriel nodded his head, taking the small vial from you with a gloved hand. He stored it carefully into the chest pocket of his leathers. His hands then dug into the pockets of his pants but you held out a hand to stop him.

“It’s on the house.”

“But–”

“Any friend of Fey–the High Lady’s is a friend of mine.”

His throat tightened as he realized it’s time for him to leave and he doesn’t want to. He’s caught in a whirlwind of emotions and finds himself torn between hope and fear. Or maybe he fears what it means to be hopeful because for once in his life, he wants something.

He wants you. His mate.

But as he thanked you for your kind gesture, he realized that the bond must have not snapped for you as it had for him. So he reluctantly went on with his day and when the sky darkened and stars awakened, he took a sip from the small vial. He had the best sleep of his life that night and dreamt about you.

The next morning he asked Rhysand and Feyre about what he had experienced because he couldn’t believe it himself. They confirmed his suspicions and they were both delighted. Feyre even more so as you were her dear friend.  

She had taken it upon herself to bring you two together. Her first attempt was a family dinner. It was going well until Elain had spotted a spider and upon the small scream she let out, Nesta had rushed to kill it for her. Your distress was impossible to turn a blind eye to and Feyre quietly asked if you were alright.

“It didn’t need to die,” is all you quietly said, your eyes lined with silver.

Witches were one with nature and given your niche with herbs and creation, Azriel realized the depth of your admiration for all life that night. Then, another harrowing one. You were so innocent, so pure. He was guilty, hands tainted and stained red. He didn’t deserve you.

The Cauldron must’ve made a mistake.

Feyre was undeterred so she gave it another attempt, despite Azriel’s protest. She arranged a night out at Rita’s for the Inner Circle and invited you. Azriel didn’t plan on going but Rhysand had made sure his schedule was clear and when Feyre had sent him an image of you in a skin tight dress, he came as quickly as he could. 

But it was too late.

He arrived to find a high fae leaning toward you in interest and you were smiling at him. A smile Azriel wanted reserved just for him. The male had placed a hand at your waist and Azriel felt his stomach churn when you laughed at something he had said. A sound he wished to be the cause of. You seemed happy and who was he to stand in your way?

The male was everything Azriel was not. Blond, blue eyed and perfectly smooth hands–hands that were all over you and welcomed by you. He unconsciously hid his scarred hands behind his back and when your gaze met his across the room, he looked away. 

Azriel was not worthy of you. He didn’t deserve to have you as his mate. So he reminded himself that romance was not part of his duties and convinced himself that the Cauldron, had indeed, made a mistake. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of being just a friend to you. The mere idea pained him so much that he pushed you away. He didn’t return to your apothecary when he finished the vial you’d given him–not even when his nights became restless again and dark circles appeared beneath his eyes. When he’d see you walking along the streets of Velaris, he’d turn the other away and when you would visit Feyre and he was there, he’d find an excuse to leave.

But there was one thing he couldn’t shake off–the primal instinct to protect you. It was the least he could do for you as he felt indebted to you for the Cauldron’s mistake. 

So when he heard you needed an escort to the border between the Spring and Autumn courts, he was the first to volunteer, despite Mor and Cassian also offering.

**

It’s as if the ground beneath you comes to life in your presence. Birds fly over you, chirping and singing a beautiful melody. As you pass, buds blossom into beautiful flowers as if enchanted by you. Even the animals emerge from their hidden abodes. The squirrels playfully dart between branches while a family of deer gracefully emerges from the trees.

It becomes evident that nature itself is captivated by your presence. and it extends beyond nature, weaving its magic onto Azriel as well. It reaches into the very heart of the Shadowsinger, casting an enchanting spell that even he cannot escape.

A blue butterfly dances playfully around Azriel. It startles him, pulling him out of his trance and you can’t help the small laugh that escapes from you. You raise a finger and the butterfly lands on it softly.

“Hello, little one,” you coo softly. You turn to Azriel, holding out your finger to him. “Would you like to hold it?”

“No.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you scared of a butterfly?”

Azriel does not answer your question. Instead, his eyes dart around the forest that still stirs with liveliness around you. “What happened to keeping a low profile?”

“Sorry,” you apologize, even though it’s not your fault. The butterfly grants you one last flutter of its wings before flying away. “I can’t help but be admired by many.”

Azriel lets out a hum. You’re too distracted to pick up on the subtle resonance of agreement, your eyes widening as the meadow finally comes into view in the distance.

**

You inhale deeply, flooding your senses with the sweet and delicate fragrance surrounding you. Time seems to slow and your worries dissipate away as you kneel down, gently touching the soft sea of green, white and yellow. The gentle sway of the dandelions is mesmerizing almost, their feathery plumes catching the morning breeze like wishes aching to be set free.

Azriel watches you and his eyes are a reflection of an adoration deeper than any meadow bloom. There’s a bittersweet ache in his chest. You close your eyes, a serene expression on your face. Strands of sunlight weave through your hair, creating a halo of warmth and Azriel finds it hard to breathe when your lips bloom into a tender smile.

Your eyes open and meet his hazel eyes and suddenly, he’s looking away. He clears his throat, eyes looking around the field. “What’s so special about this place?” He asks, a desperate attempt to reclaim the distance between desire and reality.

“All life is a delicate balance of give and take. Spring brings forth new life and beauty, new beginnings. Autumn leaves showers of gold, recognizing the temporary nature of all things. “ You answer as if it's common knowledge and upon the bewildered expression on Azriel’s face, you offer the simpler explanation:  “The soil between Spring and Autumn is very potent.” 

“These are weeds. They’ll grow anywhere.” Azriel deadpans. He regrets it immediately at the slight frown that forms at his casual dismissal.

“You may see a weed,” you begin, plucking a single dandelion from the ground as you rise to your feet. You approach the Shadowsinger. “But I see wishes.”

You extend the dandelion to him with a softness in your eyes that he’s never been on the receiving end of. “They say a single dandelion possesses the power to grant one-hundred wishes. But their beauty lies in their resilience because when they fall apart, they simply start again. A reminder to us all of boundless hope.”

Azriel hesitates, his gaze fixed on the dandelion. His gloved fingers brush against yours and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what your skin would feel like against his. The mere thought dares to send a shiver through him but he swiftly pushes the thought away.

You smile at him as he carefully accepts the stem from you. His shadows remain dispersed around the field but from where he stands, he can feel them vibrating joyfully. Your smile is so bright, so dazzling and for the first time since he met you, it’s all for him.

A sudden warmth floods through him, a sensation he never anticipated, and he finds himself utterly captivated.

“Make a wish,” you whisper to him, your voice a gentle prompt that lingers in the air like a spell waiting to be cast.

Azriel is not one to believe in things like this but he finds himself surrendering to the magic of the moment. For you.

Under the tender gaze of a field of dandelions, he closes his eyes. He lets out a silent breath, and makes a wish. A breeze courses through you both in that moment. The dandelion’s wispy seeds take flight, unraveling into a fine constellation of possibilities. 

The soft bristles of hope travel through the air and find their way to you and a laugh escapes from you in response to the tickling sensation as they caress your face.

Azriel’s heart feels strangely gentle–as if the weight that often accompanies his existence has momentarily dissipated. His entire body seems to soften in the glow of your laughter and a rare smile forms on his face.

He’s stuck in a trance, mesmerized by you, failing to catch the sounds of the creatures approaching.

Before he knows it, there are arrows whistling around you both. He barely has enough time to respond as one hisses by his ear and darts to you. He immediately raises his hand up, his shadows rushing to the rescue and forming a protective shield around you both.

**

Your eyes are wide as you stare at the tip of an arrow that is a couple of inches away from you. It’s coated with blood. Azriel’s blood.

Your breath hitches at the sight. There's an arrow embedded into his gloved hand and if it weren’t for Azriel’s other hand at the small of your back, you would’ve fallen backwards.

“Are you alright?” His gaze is examining you carefully, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

You blink at his words. “Are you alright?”

“Well, well, well.” A voice drawls followed by deep, rumbling growls from the hounds that surround you. They’re kept at bay by Azriel’s shadows. “What do we have here?”

Azriel turns around, ready to face the threat head on. His shadows remain at your side protectively. Some slither up and down your arms, their touch aimed at offering comfort and reassurance. 

“Eris.”

The red head smirks and his teeth flash when he catches the sight of the Shadowsinger’s injured and bleeding hand. “My apologies,” Eris sneers. “If I had known it was you, I would’ve aimed for the heart.”

A sound escapes from you–one you didn’t know you were capable of making and you step out from the shadows. It draws Eris’s attention to you. His amber eyes drink you in and you feel Azriel stiffen beside you. The Autumn’s male’s eyes land on the obsidian necklace around your neck and they narrow.

“What is a witch doing in my lands?” His hounds that are still surrounding let out another growl, prompted by their master’s tone of voice. They snap their teeth menacingly.

But you’re unfazed.

Perhaps, it’s Azriel’s protective shadows or the overwhelming anger set alight by Eris’s words that grant you the confidence and push you forward. Your eyes fill with darkness, resembling a night sky without any stars and Azriel can feel the energy coursing through your veins as you call upon your magic.

“Keep wasting the air with that breath of yours and I might just cur–”

A hand comes over your mouth, stopping you from saying anything else and you’re being pulled flush into Azriel’s chest. You grimace at the taste of leather and squirm only for Azriel’s arms to tighten around you.

“Cute,” Eris remarks with a hint of amusement but there’s an unmistakable fear that flashes in his eyes for a short lived moment.

 “We’re just passing through,” Azriel states, his voice void of emotion. 

Eris observes you both in contemplative silence. He must discern something in Azriel that prompts him to stand down. With a thoughtful hum, he gracefully turns away. His hounds follow suit and as he walks away, he calls over his shoulders: “Make it quick.”

You watch as Eris disappears into the forest, still wrapped tightly in Azriel’s arms. It isn’t until Eris is completely out of view that you squirm again and without thinking, you bite on his gloved hand. Hard. Azriel flinches and finally releases his grip on you.

You turn to him with a glare that he returns.

“Threatening to curse the heir to Autumn? Are you out of your mind?”

“I should curse you for stopping me!” You exclaim, crossing your arms with a scowl. Your gaze then softens as you quietly add:  “He hurt you.”

“Gods,” Azriel breathes, stepping away from you and tilting his head backwards. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“You mean besides piss you off by merely existing?” You huff as you snatch your bag away from him to get the jars you brought. “Can’t imagine it gets any worse than that.”

**

The walk to your apartment is silent and you begin to wonder if you should apologize for your outburst earlier. It was not within your nature to raise your voice at anyone…or harbor anger toward someone. But Eris had tried to hurt you, hurt Azriel and then shamelessly sneered about it.

Azriel follows you into your home, watching as you set the ingredients you collected down. He expects you to bid him farewell and kick him out but as you turn to him and your gaze falls to his injured hand, you sigh.

“Come on,” you offer, reaching out for his hand and he recoils. You frown.  “Does it hurt?”

“No.” 

You know he’s lying by the way his jaw clenches and you can’t help but notice that he appears to be repelled by your touch. You almost laugh. “I promise I won’t curse you. I actually never cursed anyone before.”

Azriel’s expression remains unreadable.

“Just let me see. I can help you.”

“I’m fine.” He says through gritted teeth.

“You’re bleeding all over my floor.” You say in hopes to get him to accept your help and when it doesn’t, you cross your arms against your chest. “Do you really hate me that much? To be repulsed by my touch?”

“I don’t hate you.” Azriel confesses and his voice is much quieter, much softer when he speaks again. “I could never.”

Azriel holds your gaze in contemplation for a long moment. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see his shadows pushing him toward you so you try again. This time, when you step forward, your hand reaching for him, he doesn’t pull away. 

 “Sit,” you tell him, nodding your head at one of the chairs in your kitchen. 

With a hard swallow, he does. He is entirely still as you hold his gloved hand in yours. Even his shadows are eerily still as if holding their breath. His eyes are boring into you with an intensity that heats your skin. You bring your other hand up, a soft green glow emitting from your fingertips. With the help of your magic, you carefully take the arrow out, drawing a sharp gasp from him. 

“Sorry,” you say, turning your attention to his glove next. You use your magic to remove it as well, not wanting to cause him any more pain or discomfort.

As the green mist of your magic dissipates, revealing the scarred skin beneath, your eyes widen. The scars are extensive, streaking around his fingers and the palm of his hand and the bleeding gash in the middle is nothing compared to them. You lift your gaze to meet his only to find his eyes are dead of emotion.

“Azriel.” You breathe and it’s the first time you’ve ever addressed him by his name and it sounds so pretty, so beautiful but the way you’re looking at him…

“Don’t.” His throat feels tight and he starts to withdraw his hand from yours but you stop him. You want to know who hurt him this deeply. Today was a day of firsts for you–first smile from Azriel, first time you ever felt so angry, first time you growled at someone and you were more than willing to add another first to that list. Cursing someone.

But Azriel looks like he’s about to break so you push your rage aside. Realization dawns on you as you now understand why he’s always wearing gloves around you, why he avoided you at all costs before. Your heart aches.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” you say softly as you begin to heal his hand. “Your scars may forever carry their stories with them but they do not define you. Your heart does and I can see it now. It’s bright and beautiful. You’re beautiful and–”

“y/n,” he almost begs. “Please don’t talk to me like that.”

The gash on his palm is now completely healed and you tighten your hold on it. “Why?”

“It’s cruel and heartless and you don’t even realize.” His voice drops to a pained whisper and his eyes are fluttering shut, body trembling. Shadows cling on to him, embracing him in an attempt to comfort their master. You’ve never beheld anything more heartbreaking.

“Do you think that lowly of me?” You begin, your voice quiet. “That I would be put off by your scars?”

When he doesn’t answer, your free hand reaches for his face, lifting his chin up. But his eyes are still closed and deep lines form on his forehead because your skin is so soft, so warm and he’s not worthy.

“Azriel,” you steady your breath. “You’re my mate.”

His eyes shoot open, hazel orbs glistening with tears as he looks up at you. “You know?”

“I’ve known since the moment I met you.” You confess with a pained smile. “I wanted to tell you right away but I didn’t want to scare you and when I was ready to tell you, you were avoiding me. I thought you hated me because, well, I’m a witch and not everyone is fond of them.”

“But that night at Rita’s–”

“My stupid attempt at making you jealous,” you explain to him sheepishly. “I thought it would prompt you to talk to me but it backfired immensely.”

Silence falls over you two. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “For what?”

“For being your mate.” Azriel responds. “I don’t deserve you. My hands are not only scarred but stained red. I’ve tortured many. I’ve killed many. You value life but I take it.”

“I value innocent life. It’s my duty to protect nature–to protect those that cannot speak for themselves.” You clarify. “I understand that it’s your duty to protect this court. I don’t see you any different for it.”

The hand at his face drops and you use it to remove the glove from his other hand. Your hands grasp onto his larger ones and you lace your fingers with his, embracing the thickened and roughened skin. Azriel’s breath hitches.

 “This can’t be real,” he murmurs to himself, dropping his gaze. “In that field of dandelions, I wished upon every one of them. For you.”

“Magic doesn’t work that way,” you tell him with a smile as an overwhelming rush of tenderness comes over you. “It cannot create or destroy love. It can only heighten what is already there.”

Azriel’s expression softens and he looks back up at you. Half terrified. Half hopeful. “So this is real?”

You decide to show him instead by leaning down and kissing him. 

Azriel’s body relaxes and then he’s using his hands to tug you forward and onto his lap. He kisses you back. Deeply and desperately. He places his hands on your face, your neck and then they’re at your waist, slipping under your shirt. He wants to feel your skin, all of you and you welcome it, arching into him because his touch feels so good.

It stirs a light of desire in you–a desire so bright that it rivals the sun and blossoms flowers of its own. A desire to love and be loved. 

“What else did you wish for?” You gasp out when you both pull away for air. His hands are right under the curve of your chest and he leans his forehead against yours.

His breath is heavy but he smiles at you and you engrave the image into your mind because you’ve never seen anything so beautiful. You’re inclined to ask Feyre to paint it for you later.

“My only wish was for you to be mine.” He confesses, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Done.”

And then he’s kissing you again.

Azriel has heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime–he’s seen it come to his brothers. He never thought it would come to him but he’s pretty sure that you are that love of his and he was a fool to push it away. He knows this now because when he gazes into your eyes, he can see forever in them.

here's an alternate scene, where y/n is the one who says "please don't talk to me like that" instead of az: read here

here's a scene if you're curious about feyre's reaction: read here

if you're interested in reading more about this au you can find the masterlist for this series here

[nereidprinc3ss]

andromeda | (dybmn? bonus)

a bonus vignette from spencer's POV. we find out how he really feels about reader. takes place the day before the argument at the bar.

note: this is not part six! takes place between parts four and five.

series masterlist

18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, semi-graphic descriptions of sexual fantasies, some angst, you're not actually present, mention of alcohol, very vague discussions of murdery stuff bc he's supposed to be working, sassy spencer makes an appearance a/n: for all my angels who said they wanted a snippet of spencer's POV! i'm sorry if i'm overdoing it with this story or clogging the spencer tags, i'm just having a lot of fun! i hope you enjoy or that this may be clears some things up for you, pls lmk your thoughts:) ily!!!

Spencer is incessantly drumming the particle board table underneath his fingers.

The polymer veneer is one of his least favorite textures—he hates the grain of it and if he were to accidentally scratch the table with his nails he knows it would make the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

But of all the things he’s worried about, that ranks very low on the list. 

He’s got a lot of mental tabs open all the time—and the tabs, he can deal with. It’s when he starts trying to operate with multiple windows that he begins to struggle. His brain, while it is a very fine tuned sort of computer, only has one monitor. Unfortunately, no human (except for the ones who’ve had their brain hemispheres surgically split) is immune to the inevitable pitfalls of multitasking. By dividing his mental energy between you and his job, he’s really fucking up his job. But he also thinks he really fucked up with you on that phone call the other night and for being as logical as he is he can’t seem to make that feel unimportant—even though he’s disgusted with himself for it because there are literally people dying. 

Someone knocks on the open conference room door—he looks up, skimming his lips over his fist. 

“What’s up?” he says too quickly upon seeing Emily’s mildly concerned face peering in on him. 

Her mouth bridges into a sort of nonchalant frown and her brows kick up. 

“Just… checking in. Haven’t heard from you all morning.”

“Yeah, the, uh—the geo-profile. I’m still… I’m still working it out.”

It’s not like he’s ever been phenomenal with his syntax in a social sense, but Spencer is certainly aware he’s doing even worse than usual right now. 

“Okay. Uh… is there anything in particular stumping you, or…?”

“Nope. Just not enough information. But I’m—I’m going to keep trying.”

“Alright. Got your phone handy?”

It’s an odd question—of course he has his phone handy. He’s been doing this job longer than Emily has. How else would he communicate with the rest of the team? He bristles. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

Emily shakes her head. She’s always been particularly good at reading his moods.

“You’re not under attack, Reid. I was just asking.”

Just as he’s about to say, why would you assume I’m not prepared for my job, he manages to swerve away and stifle the words with his fist. Instead he looks back down at his copy of the map and nods. In reality, he truly isn’t prepared for his job today. The reason he has his phone so close, fully charged and at top volume is because he’s worried he’ll miss a call from you. 

Emily says something else, and he hums in response, and then she’s gone. 

He shouldn’t be reading into your reticence this much. It’s not like you just sit by the phone all day, eagerly awaiting a call or text from him (like he does you). You have a life. You’re busy. And even if you are intentionally dodging his texts, he can’t entirely fault you for it. Spencer knows he’s clingy. He knows he’s overbearing. It’s part of why he panicked the other night and told you the whole humiliating story about Elle. Because he can’t ever just be cool and he felt the need to explain himself. 

But the problem was, and is, that he doesn’t know how much longer he can go without saying those three words that fucked him over all those years ago.

So he’d danced around them. Applied them to someone else to try and avoid outright professing his all-consuming love for you over the phone. However you feel, Spencer has to assume he feels more. Spencer always has to assume he feels more because he usually does and it’s gotten him into trouble before. And now he’s pretty sure he was exactly right, as often is the case, because you didn’t tell him he was mistaken and you’d clammed up and you haven’t talked to him since and he’s not supposed to be reading into it this much. 

Three victims killed and dumped within a 6 mile radius of the first victim plus one victim killed and dumped 23.8 miles away. That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Fuck this guy. 

Spencer decides the problem is that he needs more caffeine. 

Or possibly, if he were a different kind of man—copious amounts of alcohol. 

So he stows his phone in a pocket and asks the first person he sees where the coffee machine is. 

“Looks like you found it earlier,” the woman says, glancing pointedly down at his mostly empty mug. A playful smirk tugs at pinkish-brownish lips. She’s pretty, he realizes distantly. But he registers it the same way he’d take note of the model of a car, or the species of a bird, or the kind of shoes someone is wearing. It doesn’t actually interest him. It’s just part of processing his environment. “I can show you to it?”

He doesn’t have the heart or energy to explain that someone else brought him his cup earlier and he’s not flirting with her. 

“If you could just point me in the right direction…?”

She laughs, short and dry, before she’s pointing down a hall. 

“Kitchenette down there and to the left.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, already walking away without sparing her a second glance. 

She’s the kind of woman he would have paid a lot more attention to before you came along. Not that he’d ever sleep with someone on the job (not since he was 25, anyway), but if he’d met her under any other circumstances he probably would have cared more about the way her pupils dilated and her eyes had widened slightly and she’d adjusted her posture and all the other small things people do when they’re attracted to someone else. 30 year old Spencer might have slept with her. 27 year old Spencer definitely would have slept with her. Current Spencer obsessively pines for a woman who is already his girlfriend and whom he has yet to sleep with at all far too much to think about other women like that. 

But god, does he think about you like that. 

His feet carry him down the dim, carpeted hallway but really it took barely a nudge and he’s thinking about you like that. At work. As he’s pouring himself coffee. 

Spencer is confident in the fact that if anyone were to look at him right now, they’d never guess he’s running clips of you in his mind like a dirty supercut. Because he’s just pouring coffee. That’s one good thing about having all those tabs open all the time. He can toggle between them quickly. He has enough going on in the background that people look at him and all they can tell is that he’s thinking hard about lots of things. Some of them just happen to be the way you look when you’re naked on his bed, skin shining and glazed eyes sleepy, parted lips higher in color than usual and catching your breath. Some of them happen to be your hair brushing his stomach before he gathers it back for you. Some of them happen to be the way your thighs feel on either side of his face, or how you stretch around his fingers, or how you might feel when you stretch around his—

He hisses as hot coffee overflows from the mug and burns his hand. 

Maybe he’s not as calm and collected as he thought. 

But on top of all the other things he’s dealing with, having been so close to actually sleeping with you the other night is really fucking with his head. Even if he tells himself he wouldn't have done it, he knows himself better than that. He's too familiar with the effect you have on his judgement.

“Found it okay?” 

Spencer looks down, surprised to see the woman from earlier sitting at her desk and watching him as he quickly passes by on his way back to the conference room. Her legs are crossed. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and a flouncy sort of blouse which seems impractical for working in an FBI field office. Maybe she notices his eye catching on her figure and misguidedly swivels her chair to give him a better look. But all he’s noticing is that it doesn’t look like yours. Now he’s picturing the curve of your hip dripping in silk after that first night at Rossi’s. How your waist and your stomach feel when he slides his hands over you. This woman—she might as well not even be here for all he’s actually seeing her. 

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

Then he’s gone. Very briefly he acknowledges that he should feel sorry for so obviously brushing her off, but he doesn’t care even close to enough. He sets the coffee down on the table and rounds to the board where one of several maps is taped. On autopilot he draws lines between dump sites because one of the background tabs had deduced, while he was busy watching you like porn, that the distance between dump sites form the beginnings of the constellation Orion with some mathematical precision that’s too exacting to be coincidental. Orion’s Belt plus the most recent victim. Betelgeuse. 

There are ten formally named stars that make up Orion. He marks all of them, but circles the transposed coordinates of Bellatrix, Saiph, Rigel and Meissa as the next most likely dump sites. Most probably it will be Orion’s head. They’re all in wooded areas. He calls Garcia. Garcia will call Emily, wherever she is. If the unsub sticks to pattern, which they always do, they have until midnight. It’s trite, really. Predictable, like people always are. Far too quickly he drinks half the cup of scalding coffee and retraces his steps through the office to find the bathroom. 

It’s empty. The fluorescent lights hum. Spencer washes his hands with cold water and presses still wet fingers to his eyes. You’re waiting for him behind the black of his lids.

At first you would whine, and he would kiss you and you’d moan into his mouth and say his name when he opened you up as far as you would go. The air would be thick and warm with sex and vanilla perfume. Afterwards he’d take care of you and buy new sheets for his bed in your favorite color even if they didn’t match the walls and there would be nothing you’d want for that he couldn’t give to you ever again. 

But. 

That’s all contingent. 

No matter how often he fantasizes about it, no matter in how much detail, and regardless of how often those details change wildly, one thing always stays the same. 

The shape of your lips, swollen from kissing, bending around five or six vowels and only two consonants (it seems odd that there are only two consonants in I love you), sometimes before you start, sometimes in the middle or right at the peak—but always there, always moving in slow motion—and always silent.

In real life, they’d be aloud. It’s why his fantasies aren’t good enough. It’s why he can’t stop fantasizing about it. That’s the only part that really matters to him. The rest varies. 

Not because having sex with you doesn’t matter—it matters so much he almost shatters his molars whenever he starts picturing it around other people. But because Spencer can’t have sex with you until you love him. 

And he worries that you can’t love him until you have sex with him. 

The last time he thought that about a person, it didn’t turn out well.

Maybe there is some magic number. Some amount of times you need to have sex with someone before they’ll love you back. 

If there is, he knows for a fact it’s more than 32.

And he also knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he cannot have loveless sex with you thirty three times while he waits to find out. 

Not again. 

But he's going to hold out as long as he possibly can until you say it because he so badly wants you to love him back. He'll let the weight of every ignored text, every reminder that you don't feel that way about him, hang from his shoulders until he collapses. And then he'll probably try to get back up.

Recycled paper towels scratch against his skin. He dries his face and hands and throws them crumpled into the trash can. 

Outside the restroom, he pulls out his phone. For safety reasons and paranoia disguised as professionalism, you’re not his lock screen. It’s a photo of the Andromeda Galaxy. Whatever distance lies between you and Spencer, it could always be greater. No matter where you are in the world, you will always be the same 2.537 million light years away from Andromeda that he is. 

It makes Orion feel much closer. You, too. 

He sends you a text—the third message in a row. 

The distance between blue bubbles feels like light years. 

I’ll be home tomorrow. I miss you. 

[izzabela]

okay you guys need to stay with me before i lose my mind (thinking of making this a series, not entirely sure yet)

MDNI - audio porn?? sex descriptions, uhhhh suggestive???

assistant!reader lives in a posh, upscale apartment complex, and her neighbor is a burly man, who looks like a carpet stain compared to the pristine walls and floors of the building

it's odd- he always looks messy, tired, or something in between, yet he has the money to stay here

anyways, so reader hates her job because her boss is a dick, but the pay is good and allows her to fund her secret desire- audio porn

she found this one guy, a reddit account called "Ghost," who's actually a big-shot on Syrin and the other audio companies. she becomes one of his highest patrons and pays hella for exclusive content and audios and what-not

anyways, one night she comes home at an unGodly hour and guess what she hears...

"Such a good girl fo' me," a low rumble creeps through the walls. "Takin' all 'f me like a dumb slag- ya like this, don't you?"

and assistant!reader finally pieces it together- her favorite audio-pornist is her next door neighbor, but she can't flip shit just yet

it'll be her little secret. "my favorite audio porn star lives right next to me!" rings in her head like wedding bells- like a match made in heaven

discreetly, secretly, anything to keep her secret, she'll listen carefully to the squelching of Ghost's cock squeezing into his pocket pussy- the disgustingly delicious sounds of what she wishes were her. she'll drink up his pretty boy moans, or the low growls he emits from his mouth- all of this furthering her into a spiral of horny madness

little does pretty assistant!reader know that Ghost knows full and well that he's got his dumb bunny in his snare. he's fully aware that he's got a fan living right next to him, and he's not souring this moment until the time's right

his personal clock finally strikes midday on a random saturday. his bunny thinks she's alone in her personal woods, settling in her little nest as her squeaks and moans leave her while she plays with herself to his latest audio release- some hunter-prey roleplay about a bunny and a wolf

she tries to keep it in, but a bunny in heat can't help herself. so the muffled moans become soft whimpers and cracked cries of "more" and "yes yes yes" as she answers hypotheticals offered by her neighbor

finally, a knock is upon her door. as much as she wants (needs) to continue, she needs to put up face for whoever was knocking

opening the door, she's greeted by a wall of a man. looking up, it's the Ghost in front of her. in her head she's foaming at the mouth because he looks exactly like he describes himself to be: tall, veiny, muscular, thick and rugged

she plays it cool, "anything I can help you with, neighbor?"

he just cuts to the chase with her

"if ya wanted the real thing," he breathes incredibly low, "all ya had to do was ask, bunny."

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Lies and Butterflies

Joshua Hong x Fem!Reader

Genre: fake dating au; mostly fluff.

Word Count: 19.2k

Warnings: injuries & blood (injury is not explicitly described). joking death threats made between friends. mentions of drinking and alcoholic beverages. lying to parental figures. reader is written as single and desperate and moderately unwise (she’s actually me).

[Series: Serenity Street 17] Your roommate begged you to pretend to date him while his mom is in town for the month. The little crush you’ve had on him will either become your best friend or worst obstacle on this quest.

note: the fact that this fic came out as longer than my master's degree thesis will never not amaze me.

Your friends thought you were a naive fool for moving into Serenity Street 17, apartment 3A. Not because the neighbourhood or building was bad (if anything, they often commented about how cosy it was), but because you signed the rental agreement knowing full well you’d be sharing an apartment with a man you didn’t know. 

In your defence, you’d been hesitant to do so. However, after several reassuring comments from the building manager about how your roommate would be a perfectly sweet young gentleman (but mostly the influence of the looming end of your old rental agreement with a remaining budget from hell), you had done the insane thing and signed the agreement.

Fortunately, Joshua Hong, your new roommate, seemed like a true angel at first sight – both visually and metaphorically. Upon your arrival, he’d spent the entire weekend helping you move the heavy boxes and unbox everything (all the while you were trying your hardest to not feel weak at the sight of his gorgeous face and straining biceps). He assured you repeatedly that he’d do the dishes and cook for himself. He sent you off to work every morning with a sweet smile, a wave and a thermos full of hot coffee to start your day. 

You’d quickly learn why the neighbourhood aunties called him “Serenity Street’s gentleman”. And at first you thought he truly deserved the title.

That is until you had lived with him for a month and realised he was the dictionary definition of unpredictable. Sure, he wasn’t completely insane and most of the time he was truly the perfect roommate (as well as eye candy), but the moments when he did unleash his inner demons? Even now, many months later, you were still trying to decide if that side of him amused or scared you.

It was to the point where you and Chan, your neighbour from across the hall, had started keeping a shared list of Joshua’s wildest moments (a tradition which several of your other friends in the building soon joined). 

For one, there was the time when he decided to perform EXO’s ‘Love Shot’ with a truly unhinged choreography at the building’s monthly drunk karaoke night. The kicker? He didn’t start drinking until after the cover (probably to bury the shame he felt). 

Or the time when he mistakenly watered a fake plant for weeks and then, upon realising his mistake, proceeded to gaslight himself and everyone you knew that it had at one point been a real plant and someone must have snuck into the apartment to replace it with an identical fake one (you didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was fooling no one (but Minghao had been more than happy to share the news with him for you )).

There was also, of course, the time when he had a life-sized cardboard cut-out of himself made to decorate the living room and you couldn’t have reminded him enough of how terrifying of a sight it had been at 4 am on your way to the bathroom. To his credit, he moved the cut-out behind Jeonghan’s apartment door a week later to terrify him instead. Jeonghan has since sworn he’d get back at your roommate for it one day (and you dearly hoped he would).

Needless to say, your roommate had you living on the edge of your seat at all times. So it didn’t surprise you much when he knocked on your bedroom door at 11 pm before walking in and throwing himself head-first onto your bed.

Used to his shenanigans but well-aware of his need for attention, you just sighed and lowered the book you had spent all day looking forward to. “What’s up?”

His response was unintelligible, muffled against the sage green sheets. 

You waited a moment for him to lift his head. Nothing happened. For a moment you wondered if he’d fallen asleep. So you nudged him with your foot. “Shua?”

With a groan, he leaned upwards, resting on his elbows as he stared ahead and told you, “Do you think I’m too single?”

Amused and confused by the question, you blinked rapidly. “Is that even a thing? I think all single people are equally single, no?”

“I haven’t dated anyone in five years,” he told you.

“And?”

“I haven’t gone on a date in three.”

“So?”

“My mom thinks that’s too long.”

You took mild offence to that as you had been left out on the dry shores of Singleness for well over a decade – if your three-day middle-school playground marriage even counted towards this statistic, that is. If Joshua had been single for too long by his mom’s standards, then you surely must have seemed like a completely hopeless case. 

You shook the thought off and tried to seem like a supportive friend (even though your mind and soul were already lost in faraway lands, riding horses with dreamy fictional men that oddly looked like Joshua). “Why does that matter?”

“Because,” he started as if you should know this already, “she wants me to go on a blind date with her friend’s daughter. She wants to discuss it tomorrow over lunch.”

Was it too soon to tell him you sometimes daydreamed of your mom appearing at the door with a handsome young man and demanding you to go on a date with him? Maybe. Was that too desperate? Probably.

“You’re an adult man, Shua,” you told him with a scoff. “Just say no.”

“I can’t say that to my mom!”

“Why not? Because she’d be disappointed and sad?” you guessed, eyeing him with annoyance. 

He widened his eyes and all you saw in his brown irises was pure terror mixed with just a hint of frustration. “She’d lecture me!”

“Oh no,” you didn’t even try to feign any kind of an emotion before lifting your book back to your eye level, eager to get back to your reading where men didn’t trouble you with their mommy issues. “Your mom’s nice. You’ll live.”

“You could try to be more empathetic, you know,” he remarked before resting his cheek on the mattress and sighing. “What are you reading anyway? Another one of your historical romances?”

“And what if it is?” you asked.

“My mom would tell you to get off your ass and get an actual boyfriend.”

“Good thing she’s not my mom then. Men are disappointing and I only like the ones written by women.”

Joshua’s eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me a disappointment right now?”

There were many words you could use to describe Joshua, but a disappointment? – not one of them. Really, the only disappointing thing about the man in front of you was that he thought your valiant flirting attempts over the past six months had been a funny joke. Even if you thought he could be incredibly frustrating, you were not immune to his charms, and everyone but him seemed to know.

Still, if there was anything you liked more than being the sole object of Joshua’s attention, it was getting on his nerves as much as he did yours.

“Absolutely,” you told him with a straight face but your facade fell fast at his offended grimace. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course you’re not a disappointment. I actually like you.”

Would he pick up the hint (and was it even a hint if you were practically confessing your feelings?) … ?

“I hate you,” he mumbled and buried his face back in the sheets.

… No. The answer was no.

Aside from his wild shenanigans, another thing that frustrated you about your roommate to no end was the fact that he. never. read. his. messages. And yet, when he messaged you, he expected an answer ASAP. 

And if you didn’t reply within 2 minutes … ?

Your phone vibrated and rang, his contact photo bright and colourful on your phone screen. You could barely keep back from cursing under your breath before offering your co-workers an apologetic smile and rushing out to the breakroom to answer the call. 

You took a deep calming breath before putting on your best customer service-able smile and speaking into the microphone, “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” came the short reply. Was it just you or did he sound winded? 

As if he could see you through the radio waves, you theatrically glanced around the building before deadpanning, “At work. Like every Tuesday at 1 pm.”

 “Right,” he breathed out after a pause and suddenly you were worried. 

The Joshua you knew never hesitated to match your sarcastic remarks with ones of his own. There was rarely any bite to his words but you appreciated that he at least tried to match your energy (or maybe you had unknowingly matched his and you were fated to meet). But this? This hadn’t been a sarcastic remark.

“Are you okay?” you spoke, tone softening. “Did something happen?”

“You know how I had that lunch thing with mom today?” he asked after a sigh. 

You nodded before realising he couldn’t actually see you. “Yeah?”

“She brought up her friend’s daughter again and I panicked and–” He cut himself off with a laugh but it sounded anything but joyful. No, it sounded frustrated and disbelieving and like he was about five seconds from a mental breakdown. You found yourself holding your breath as you waited for his laughter to stop. When it did, he sighed again. “Can you come home early?”

The answer was obviously no. You couldn’t just leave your job to cater to your roommate's frenzies. You had made it a point to never ask for any unnecessary time off at all, eager to prove yourself at the office. You had only worked here for five months. Besides, you had goals and a dream and–

“Please?” he added. He sounded so soft, so fragile, so worried.

You squeezed your eyes shut and lied to yourself that your boss wouldn’t hate you if you just told him you had a horrible, perhaps borderline ER-worthy migraine and needed to go home ASAP. Or was that too risky? Would he ask for a doctor’s note? What’s the other option?

“If my boss emails you and asks if our apartment was flooded today, you tell him yes and that you almost drowned,” you finally told him, unable to believe you were about to blatantly lie to your boss, before swiping across your screen to end the call. 

“You’re home,” he breathed out when you stepped through the door half an hour later. 

You found him sitting on the living room sofa. He was still wearing his best white shirt and if it weren’t for the mess of hair on his head, he would’ve looked like he had just gotten ready to go out.

You shrugged off your jacket. “I would really like an explanation.”

“Yeah,” he sighed and rubbed his face. “Where do I start? Um… Well, my mom’s coming to stay with us for a month.”

Your jaw dropped. “A month?! Why? Did something happen to her house?”

“No,” he seemed almost pained to tell you so. With a gentle grip on your hand, he led you to sit next to him on the sofa. “You know how she was trying to set me up with her friend’s daughter?”

You nodded, raising a brow. “What about it? Was it, like, an ex or something?”

“Well, no, but,” he took a deep breath and turned to stare at the wall, eyes wide as if he was expecting something to crash as he spoke, “I might have panicked and said something bad.”

“Such as?” you urged, leaning closer.

Getting red in the face, he really looked like the words he needed had wedged themselves in his throat and were rebelling, refusing to come out. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to make even a single sound, but you still heard nothing. 

Your patience was running thinner by the second. “Joshua, I lied to my boss because of you. Spit it out or, I swear to god, I will make that lie a reality and drown you in the bathtub.”

The threat seemed to motivate him plenty. He let out a soft whine before blurting, “I told her I can’t go on a date with Mary because we’re dating.”

This man never failed to surprise, scare and worry you. And this time you were scared for the both of you. “You told her what?! We?! As in you and me?!”

“I’m sorry,” he immediately dropped to his knees in front of you, looking up at you with desperate and terrified sparkling doe eyes. “I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t want to make her feel bad and I panicked and I lied and I swear I’ll make it up to you! Whatever you want! Anything. I am so, so sorry.”

You didn’t even have the words to say. Frozen in your seat, you stared at him, trying your hardest to get your brain to reset so you could discover you simply had fallen asleep at your desk and this was all a dream. Was it a dream or was it a nightmare? You’d decide later.

When you hadn’t responded for nearly a minute, Joshua gently nudged your hand. “Hey, are you okay? I’m sorry, okay?”

But when you still remained silent without even as much as moving your eyes, he quickly added, “I’ll just fess up, yeah? I’ll tell her I panicked and lied and I’ll go on that date. Just please don’t be mad at me, okay?”

You held your hand up to stop him. “It’s fine. I just… I need a moment.”

“Yeah…” He breathed in relief before nodding and agreeing, “Yeah. Anything you want. I’ll…I can…  Do you want water? Tea? I could make cocoa.”

“Just water’s fine,” you told him almost robotically as you stared into space, rubbing your temples as if that would somehow make it easier to process the absolutely bizarre situation you had found yourself in because, no, unfortunately (or fortunately?) this was not a dream. This was your reality.

As he scurried over to the kitchen, you tried to wrap your mind around … well, everything. 

It felt like a cruel joke. All these months of pining after your handsome roommate, making him heart-shaped toast and pancakes, fixing his shirt collar as he prepared to leave for work, practically flat-out confessing to him – and here he was, practically throwing himself at you. 

But none of it was real. He wasn’t actually into you. It was just a panicked reaction. He’d just thought of the first age-appropriate woman that came to his mind – it was only you because you were roommates and spent so much time together. There were no feelings involved on his end. 

But on yours? You willed your heart to stop fluttering and pounding and threatening to beat out of your chest at the mere idea of dating Joshua Hong. 

“Here,” he spoke softly as he placed a cold glass of water into your hand and took his seat next to you. He watched for a while as you took a miniscule sip and continued staring into nothingness, lost in your thoughts. He hesitated to speak. “I really am sorry. I just wasn’t thinking straight. I was scared and–”

“I seemed like a safer option than Mary?” you finished for him, giving him a knowing look. “C’mon, is she really that bad?”

No, you’re just that much better is what you wished he’d say. Then you’d have at least something to hold onto.

Joshua offered a half-hearted smile. “Mom said Mary is really into haunted buildings and ghost hunting, so…”

Did that make you much better than her? Very debatable. But you were willing to take just about anything reminiscent of a win.

“Sounds dreadful,” you replied, matching his smile. “So what happens now?”

“Well,” he seemed hesitant all over again, as if no progress had been made at all. He quickly forced himself out of that headspace and met your eyes, “I could call my mom and tell her I lied…”

You sensed an ‘or’. Raising an eyebrow, you silently asked him to finish the thought.

He took a stuttering breath before grimacing. “Or we go on with the lie and pretend to date for a while.”

Option B is what your heart shouted. Please pick option B, even if it’s all a lie.

“A while being…?” you forced yourself to nitpick instead of immediately jumping into his arms and agreeing. 

He kissed his teeth. “A month-ish.”

“A month?!”

“Mom didn’t fully, entirely, really believe me,” Joshua supplied with an apologetic look, “so I bluffed a little and she said she’d come stay with us for a while to see it for herself and… I sort of agreed to let her stay a month.”

A month of (fake) dating Joshua Hong, your hot roommate, the very subject of your daydreams? You weren’t sure whether you wanted to scream in joy or cry in despair.

“Okay,” you breathed out and gulped. “We can– We can do a month… right?”

“Right.” He didn’t seem any more sure of than you.

“How long ‘til she comes here?”

“Two days.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

[DAY 1, FRIDAY]

Having read and watched a fair share of romantic comedies, you were adamant that there was no need for a ‘fake dating contract’. You and Joshua were roommates and good friends; surely just a verbal agreement of boundaries would suffice. You’d just tell him your boundaries and he’d tell you yours. 

In an ideal world, that is.

But in the real world, there was a knock on the door before you could even begin to whisper about the idea of boundaries.

While sharing a startled look with you, Joshua crept towards the door and peeked through peephole. 

“It’s her,” he breathed out and offered you one last grimace before opening the door. His voice went from tormented to overjoyed so fast you felt it give you a whiplash, “Mom! Hi! Let me help with your suitcase.”

Showtime (except this was not a theatre, and you didn’t have even the semblance of a script to play out, and you sucked at improv). Putting on your best smile, you stood up just as they entered the living room. 

“There she is!” his mother called out and rushed over to give you a warm hug. “Look at you! As good-looking as always!”

Your cheeks felt a little warm at that. “You look great too!”

“Oh, I know,” she joked and gave your shoulder a friendly pat. Then her friendly expression morphed into something more sinister. “So, dating, huh?”

If your cheeks had felt warm before, they were positively burning now. You tried to find your voice again, even offered a look to Joshua who could only respond with an equally nervous wide-eyed look. Finally, you cleared your throat and answered, “Yeah. We’re still kind of getting used to it ourselves.”

“I always knew you two would end up together,” she gushed, smiling ear to ear and winking at you between sentences. “Took you a while though. I was already starting to worry about my Joshua.”

“Yeah,” you heard him mumble, “me too.”

“Will you join us for dinner?” you asked her, trying to steer the topic away from the inevitable chit-chat about your almost-non-existent relationship.

She hummed in thought – a habit Joshua must have picked up from her, you realised – and nodded as she looked around the living room. “Of course. Let me just get settled in and put on more comfortable clothes. Where can I unpack?”

Your “boyfriend” and you shared a wide-eyed look. This is why you never did improv! 

“You can have my room,” Joshua finally spoke all the while still having that very same panicked expression. “I’ll get it set up real quick.”

His mother paused, confused (and was that a glint of suspicion in her eyes?). “You don’t sleep together?”

You could’ve fried an egg on your cheeks with how hot they felt. “Oh, we–”

“Like she said,” Joshua interrupted, forcing a smile that almost looked convincing, “we’re still kind of settling into this whole relationship thing. We’re taking it slow.”

“I’m glad to give you a push in the right direction,” she told him with a chuckle. “You can’t leave someone like (Y/n) just waiting. She’ll get bored of you, and then what?”

He laughed shortly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Like always.”

He nodded before tugging on the crook of your elbow to drag you with him. “Sweetie, why don’t you come help me set up mom’s room?”

You thanked the heavens he had enough mental capacity to not leave you alone with his mom. “Of course!”

“Help yourself to anything you want in the kitchen, yeah?” Joshua told his mom as he reached to pick up her suitcase with his free hand, his left one still holding onto you like you were his lifeline. “Coffee, tea, a snack – anything.”

She replied with a smile and continued her (no doubt thorough) tour of your apartment. 

Once you were in his room, he closed the door so that it was just a bit ajar as to not seem suspicious and turned to you with a look of terror. His whispers were so loud and harsh that you wondered if there was any point in pretending otherwise as he asked, “What do we do?”

“We clean your room and make your mom feel at home,” you suggested, not entirely sure what he was getting at.

Joshua gave you a look that said he was holding back the urge to call you dumb. “I meant us. She’s taking my bed. Where will I sleep? I can’t sleep on the sofa – she’ll figure out we’re lying.”

Oh. Yeah, that was an unwelcome problem. Mostly because the only viable solution you could think of involved Joshua sleeping in your room and you not getting any sleep because he’d be so close to you. What if you fell asleep and talked in your sleep, confessing your everlasting love? Worse!: what if you had a dirty dream about him – one involving his gorgeous biceps and soft lips and– dear god, you’d never be able to look him in the eyes again. Hell, you probably wouldn’t be able to be in the same room as him. 

Joshua stared at you in silence, expecting a solution. Before you could offer one though, he shut it down with a “I’m not sneaking out to sleep on Chan’s pull-out couch either.”

Damn it. 

“Then there’s only one solution,” you whispered back, unable to believe your own words. “We’ll have to share my room.”

“There’s no room for another mattress there.”

It’s not like either of you even knew where to find a spare mattress. But you didn’t tell him that. And the look in his eyes said you didn’t have to because he knew it just the same and that left only one solution.

“We can share my bed, but if you touch my teddy bear, I’ll make sure you go missing under mysterious circumstances,” you told him and left the room to get some clean sheets for the bed (and calm your heart).

The rest of a day went by in a daze of terrible half-believable lies that just kept elaborating at their own accord because of course she couldn’t be satisfied with just a simple answer. No, she had to ask questions to clarify, as if she was a detective trying to figure out a suspect’s background.

And so you bluffed and lied and shared panicked looks with Joshua. Your collaborations added up to a decent backstory – at least that’s what you thought because at least your lies were not completely out of the realm of reality.

Who confessed first? You both did, in a moment of drunken chaos at Seungcheol’s housewarming party (you failed to mention there was no alcohol provided at said party). 

Where was your first date? A picnic at the park not too far from your home just a few short months ago (and she didn’t need to know it was an outing with all of your neighbours – something not Joshua but Jihoon had organised to help the people in the building become closer).

What was your first kiss like? You had kissed him under the streetlights when he walked you home from work because you’d be damned if you let a man make the first move (in Joshua’s opinion, this was the most obvious lie of all but he chose not to argue because the other option was to look his mother in the eyes and tell her he’d made the first move to kiss somebody on the mouth).

The little lies added up and by the end of the day, you weren’t entirely sure where one started or another ended. Hell, you were pretty certain you wouldn’t remember most of them the next day. 

But that wasn’t the hard part – not the real hard part anyway. No, the real problem was the evernearing night. Between the improv performance of your life and the general feeling of butterflies, you hadn’t had any time to come to terms with the fact that you’d have to share a bed with your handsome, hot, absolutely amazing roommate under the guise of being his girlfriend.

And now the reality was looming.

His mother was the first to head to bed, leaving you and Joshua to stare at each other in a relieved silence across the dining table as she went about her bedtime routine. Neither you or Joshua dared to move to head to sleep next. Neither of you wanted to make the first move. 

Sensing you were faced with a similar dilemma, he finally suggested, “We could watch a movie.”

“We’ll have to go to bed eventually,” you told him with a sigh. “We can’t spend the whole night watching TV.”

His silence told you he thought otherwise. 

And you were in no mood to make the first move or argue about pillow barriers and teddy bears. So, begrudgingly, you dragged yourself over to the sofa and turned on the TV. 

He joined you soon after, two cans of soda in hand. He handed one – already opened – to you as you flipped through the movie selection.

“You know, sugar really isn’t good for you before bed,” you remarked offhandedly. “Makes it hard to fall asleep.”

He just scoffed and opened his can with a pop and a fizzle. “Good thing we’re watching a movie and not sleeping then.”

“Rom-com or action?”

“Action,” he answered a little too fast before sipping his drink as if to distract himself. 

“We could watch Transformers,” you half-joked. “It’s got a good runtime.”

“Might as well,” he sighed and made himself comfortable as you clicked on the title. 

As you pulled a cushion into your lap for optimal comfort, Joshua remained sitting far from you. It was funny, really – it seemed that he was sitting further from you as your “boyfriend” than he ever had as just your roommate. 

You wanted to blame the movie for how silent the living room had become. Only Optimus Prime’s voice sounded in the apartment, and even that was quiet to not disturb your guest’s sleep. But the reality was that something had shifted between you. You were officially stuck in an arrangement that both benefited and ruined you, and the reality was sinking in fast.

Now there was no chance to take back the lies and the faking. The only option was to keep going and keep up with your elaborate plan to trick the sweetest woman you knew, all because your roommate didn’t want to date some girl called Mary and you had agreed to be his cover because you were infatuated with him. 

How does one process this situation? Where do you go from here? Can you do this for a month without thinking too hard about it? And what happens when the month is up?

“Hey,” Joshua’s soft voice startled you from your tortured thoughts. You turned to find him watching you with a somewhat wistful smile. “You did great today, you know?”

“Whatever do you mean?” You chuckled but it sounded pained even to your own ears. “I was just being a good girlfriend.”

He snorted a laugh. “You can stop acting. I’m pretty sure she’s asleep by now. It’s okay. ”

“How do you know if she’s asleep?” you whispered, eyeing his – no, her – bedroom door. “Would suck to get caught lying on the very first night.”

Joshua’s smile looked a little more real now, almost reaching his eyes as he still watched you like you were a beloved family puppy who had learnt a new trick. “She snores pretty loud.”

Tense in your seat, still eyeing the door, you listened and waited. Before long, you discovered he was right. There it was, a soft snore accompanying Bumblebee’s action scene. Closing your eyes, you breathed out in relief and relaxed into the plush fabric of the sofa. 

“Do you think she bought it?” you wondered.

“If she didn’t, we’ll just have to work harder tomorrow,” he replied before reaching over to brush your hair off your face. 

You willed the butterflies to just go to sleep already and let you be. They remained relentless and you could only pray Joshua wouldn’t notice how flustered his touch made you feel.

“We just have to do this for another 29 days,” you said to distract yourself. “It’ll be fine.”

Did he have to keep stroking your cheek so gently? How much hair did you even have stuck on your face? Maybe you were hallucinating and he wasn’t touching you at all – that seemed almost plausible. 

“We’ll be fine,” he whispered and he sounded to be closer now. His warm breath brushed against your temple. Maybe you weren’t entirely out of your mind yet. “It’s just a month.”

“Just a month.” 

You weren’t yet sure whether you wished it would last less or more.

[DAY 2, SATURDAY]

Three things had greeted you when you woke up: the smell of fresh coffee, the brightest sun you had ever had the displeasure of waking under, and someone’s arm around your waist. You almost hadn’t cared whose arm it was because it was holding you to a warm body, safe from the evils of the morning chill.

Begrudgingly, you had eventually opened your eyes and glanced around. You had fallen asleep on the sofa instead of your bed – a work-around for last night’s problem if you’d ever seen one, even if it was horrible for your back. And the arm belonged to none other than your roommate who looked like an angel as he slept, resting his head on your shoulder… 

“And how is any of that my problem?” Chan yawned over his cup of coffee as he watched you pace around his kitchen ten minutes later. He didn’t really have any plans anyway but it’s not like he enjoyed having neighbours march into his apartment to rant about their love lives (even if it was great material for the building’s gossip group chat which he would no doubt update as soon as you’d leave).

You offered him a glare. “You’re supposed to be a supportive friend.”

“You must have me mixed up with someone,” he deadpanned and took a sip of his hot drink. “What’s so bad about waking up next to him anyway? It’s not like you’ve never shared a bed before.”

Your face felt like it was burning at his words. “How do you even know that?”

Unimpressed, he raised a brow. “You did the same thing the last time it happened – ran in screaming and crying and giggling like a schoolkid.” He paused, narrowing his eyes a little as if a thought was occurring before adding, “You actually do this a lot. It’s a little concerning.”

“Whatever,” you groaned and slumped in the bar stool across the counter from him. “What do I do?”

“Seize the day and appreciate the fact that you’re dating your crush?”

“Fake dating,” you corrected him with a mild glare. And you had only revealed so much to him because he was your best friend and confidant (and because you had made him swear on his life that he wouldn’t tell anyone else).

Chan scoffed a laugh. “He might be faking but there’s no way you are. You suck at improv. Just embrace it and go with the flow.”

You stared at him. Were all your friends this unhelpful or was this just a trait unique to Lee Chan? 

“Why do I even come to you for advice?” you thought out loud. “It’s not like you can even get a date yourself.”

He sputtered and coughed up the sip of coffee he had unfortunately taken just seconds before. His ears turned red. “At least I’m trying.”

“So am I!” you whined. “Come on, give me something to work with. I’m in the middle of a crisis.”

“All of which is self-inflicted.”

“I hate you.”

“Maybe, but you love Joshua,” he teased, winked, and narrowly dodged the apple you threw at his head. He laughed heartily before taking another sip of his coffee. “I’m serious though. You might as well take advantage of your arrangement. Just forget about the fake part and just think of yourself as his girlfriend. I’m sure he won’t complain about your authenticity.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Well, then take advantage some other way,” he suggested, appearing a little frustrated (which was fair; you had, in fact, interrupted his much needed me-time and breakfast for one). “What are you getting out of this arrangement anyways? He gets his mom off his back, and you? Is getting to live out your late-night fantasies the only perk?”

You stared at him. For a moment, he feared you were getting ready to hurl another fruit at his head. But then, instead of reaching for an apple, you slumped in your seat and let out a curious noise. “Huh.”

“Huh?” he mimicked, still tense in case it was a fake-out and you were going to throw something at him regardless.

“You’re right,” you said and he worried even more. 

He glanced towards the nearest door from the corner of his eye, wondering if it was close enough for a safe escape. You never said Chan was right – that just wasn’t a thing. It never happened. He had a bigger chance of getting struck by lightning than to hear you say those two words. Chan was fearing for his life.

“I’m right?” he echoed hesitantly.

“I’m getting nothing out of this arrangement,” you said with a scoff of disbelief. “That little scammer! I’m out here improv-ing my ass off to please his mother and all I get in return is daydream material? Screw that!”

Across from you, Chan still wasn’t sure if this was a healthy development or if he should call Jeonghan for back-up. Regardless, he decided it was safer to just play along. He let out an empathetic cheer and agreed, “Screw it! Yeah! He’s too nice to say no anyways.”

“I’m gonna make him pay!” you decided and marched out of his apartment.

The moment you were out of his sight, Chan breathed out a sigh of relief. 

But you? You froze in the hallway. You just had to cross the hall and demand your due payment. But what would you even ask for? 

As your mind raced for ideas – a new laptop? a new wardrobe? –, the door of your apartment opened. As if you were cursed, Joshua’s head peeked out. 

“Oh,” he spoke and his voice was so soft and welcoming that you almost convinced yourself you couldn’t take advantage of him any more than you already were, “there you are! We were starting to worry.”

“Worry?” you parroted dumbly.

“Yeah,” he laughed and reached out a hand as if to invite you in – as if your name wasn’t on the lease right next to his –, “we were about to have breakfast. Mom made french toast.”

“Oh.” You silently wondered what had happened to the woman you had been two minutes ago in Chan’s apartment. The spine you had grown seemed to have disappeared as soon as Joshua flashed you a smile. You were capital S Screwed.

Deep in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed Joshua staring at you, confused and puzzled, his hand still outstretched for you to take. He cleared his throat to call your attention and forced his smile to brighten as he wriggled his fingers as if to entice you. You sighed quietly before faking a smile and taking his hand, finally letting him pull you to the kitchen.

“There you are,” his mother called out the moment she saw you. She was already at the table, sipping her tea and eyeing the fresh toast. “We were just beginning to wonder where you had gone.”

“Yeah,” Joshua agreed before frowning at you as he pulled a chair out for you to sit, “where did you go?”

What would be a convincing lie? A half-truth – at least that’s what Joshua himself had once told you in a drunken giggle fit.

You took a deep breath and lied through your teeth, “I remembered I promised to help Chan with something.”

“Chan?” She looked at you and there was an odd glint of something in her eyes. Amusement? Judgement? Suspicion. That’s what it was – it was clear cut suspicion and you had to shake it off before she caught onto your plan.

“Our neighbour from across the hall,” Joshua said quickly. Too quickly. You thought he must have recognised that glint in her eyes as well. “He and (Y/n) get along great.”

She hummed thoughtfully, giving you one last glance before declaring, “Well, let’s eat before it all gets cold, kids.”

[DAY 3, SUNDAY]

You had managed to avoid this twice already. This being the act of sharing a bed with the very man who had been the main character of your beautiful love-struck dreams for the past 7 months. 

The first time had been a lucky break – falling asleep on the sofa with a Transformers movie playing in the background. It had been believable enough.

The second time – last night –, had been less of a lucky break and more of a Joshua scheme. Whether it was because he couldn’t fathom the idea of sharing even a room with you (hurtful, but valid) or because he was afraid you’d be uncomfortable (absolutely valid), he had gone to hang out with his friend Jeonghan and the newest inhabitant of the building Choi Seungcheol and didn’t return until noon. And even now he was still hungover from their late-night activities.

But this time? It seemed that three was not a magic number after all. 

Dressed in your least revealing pyjamas, you stood next to Joshua, collectively staring at the twin bed in the corner of your room. 

The silence was deafening and suffocating you. And the butterflies in your stomach seemed to have doubled since this arrangement started. 

“Do you think it’s too late to call Jihoon and ask for a spare mattress?” you wondered out loud without really meaning to. 

You wanted to slap a hand over your own mouth – all these months of pining but when the opportunity is served to you on a silver platter, you’re a coward. What was it that Mina had called this? 

Self-sabotage? Sounds about right.

Joshua glanced at the time on his phone before sighing and looking at the bed again. “It’s already past midnight. And you have work at 8.”

“Oh.” 

“Whatever,” he sighed, blinking his eyes closed and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’ll take the window side. You take the wall side.”

Any love-blind or anxious thoughts jumped right out your third floor windows. Why did you even have a crush on this man who cared so little for your sleep? Making you sleep against the wall? When his shoulders were almost as wide as your whole bed? 

To quote the wise words of Lee Jihoon: Joshua? A gentleman, my ass!

You scoffed. “No way! Last time I let you do that, you almost squashed me.”

Frowning, he shushed you and pointed at the door. “My mom’s next door.”

You rolled your eyes and continued in a whisper – because unlike him, you were considerate of your friends’ feelings and needs –, “I’m not sleeping against the wall.”

“Fine,” he agreed with a soft scoff of disbelief, his eyes widening, “I’ll sleep against the wall.”

“And what? Push me off my own bed?”

He stared at you like you had grown a third head. But really he couldn’t argue – he knew he couldn’t because you had a perfectly valid point. And besides, he had lived with you long enough to know there was no winning against you. 

“Then what do you suggest?” he asked, defeated.

No ideas were popping up. You stayed quiet. 

After a few minutes of silence, you relented and suggested, “... Rock paper scissors?”

“You didn’t like either idea,” he reminded you.

“Just pick a side to defend. Whatever. I’m voting I get the window side.”

“But you didn’t want–”

“I want the window side,” you insisted half-heartedly but you both knew you were lying. There was no winning for you – not with a bed this size.

“Why did I choose you?” he thought out loud as he lifted his hand in the starting position. 

You almost scoffed at his words because it’s not like he actually had any other choices anyway. You were the only one crazy enough to agree to his scheme. Joshua had exactly two partners in crime and you doubted Jeonghan would have agreed to pretend to be Joshua’s boyfriend for a month. So, really, you were his one and only option.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot,” you softly counted in unison.

Your rock was swiftly beaten by his paper. You weren’t sure why that annoyed you – you were on the losing end of the bet either way.

Joshua stepped back and grandly gestured towards the bed with a sarcastic smile, “My love.”

“I hate you,” you told him with a groan and got in the bed before pulling yourself to the side against the wall. You already knew this would be a miserable night. 

Your roommate chuckled and followed suit, settling on his own side. Immediately, you regretted getting in the bed with him. Joshua took up more than half of the bed, easily and even when he was trying to be considerate, rolling to his side to take up less space, he was too close for comfort. 

Perhaps, you wondered, he wouldn’t bat an eye if you got out right now and pulled an all-nighter on a report you desperately needed to work on before the morning (the report being your Netflix catalogue; Bridgerton was calling your name).

But before you could even open your mouth to lie, Joshua pulled the blanket up to your neck, tucking you in with a gentle smile. “We can switch tomorrow, if you want. Just get some sleep now. You have an early day.”

As he closed your eyes and subconsciously leaned closer to you, you wondered if it would be so hard to take advantage of the situation after all and pretend it’s real. Would it really hurt to just forget about the ‘fake’ part of your fake dating plan and just… lean a little closer and rest your head on his pillow instead of your own? 

His hand was so close to yours, fingers just inches from touching. 

What would happen if you just reached out and wrapped your hand around his? What would happen if you pressed a single affectionate kiss to his knuckles? 

Would he smile in his sleep? 

Or would he be appalled?

You shook the thoughts out of your head and squeezed your eyes shut. This was going to be a long night.

[DAY 4, MONDAY]

In your months of living with Joshua, you had shared more than a few breakfasts. Hungover, sick, or even after a foul fight over who’s turn it had been to take out the trash – none of those breakfasts had been nearly as unpalatable as this one.

You could hardly look at him from across the table. Mortified. Ashamed. Certain he wouldn’t even want to look at you. You avoided his eyes and he avoided yours as his mother fussed about and piled waffles upon waffles onto your plates. 

It might have been rude to not listen to your guest’s morning rambles about the weather and the news channel, but you were still too caught-up in your embarrassment to pay her any kind of attention. 

You knew you shouldn’t have fallen asleep. You should’ve ignored the fluffy sheep and refused the offers of the Sandman. You really should have because you hadn’t and now you were forced to live the knowledge that Joshua had to gently shake you awake from his spot underneath you. 

From UNDERNEATH you. Meaning you had fallen asleep on top of your very handsome roommate. 

And now you couldn’t even look him in the eyes again. 

“Are you kids alright?” his mother wondered all of a sudden and a jolt of fear went through you. 

On instinct and instinct alone, your head snapped to share a look with your “boyfriend”. Remembering the morning incident, you immediately looked away again and feigned nonchalance even as your cheeks and ears burned (out of the corner of your eye, you saw him do the same – there went the small chance that he had thought nothing of it).

“Yeah, why?” Joshua replied after clearing his throat.

“You’re usually not this quiet,” she said and you found her looking at you with concern. “Did something happen? Did you two fight?”

“What? No!” you protested without really meaning to. In your head, you reminded yourself that it was just a reflex and the desperate need to fulfil your part of the deal. “We’re completely fine.”

“Are you?” she still worried, hands on her hips as she took turns looking at the two of you. “Be honest: is me being here a problem? You seem so awkward, like even being in the same room is a chore. Did you fight because I came to stay here?”

“No, no,” you and Joshua protested in unison. 

You shared another look, forgetting your embarrassment now that your plan was in jeopardy.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because I really didn’t want to cause you problems. If I’ve done something to upset either of you–”

“Mom,” Joshua assured her with a gentle smile that didn’t look entirely genuine, “(Y/n) and I are fine. We’re just…”

“Stressed from work,” you supplied when he trailed off in thought. “You know how it is.”

She didn’t fully seem to buy it, still eyeing the both of you with a mix of suspicion and worry. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” She scoffed as if she had realised the gravity of her words and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What am I even saying? You wouldn’t lie to me.”

As if your morning couldn’t get any worse.

“We should go get ready for work, honey,” Joshua suddenly excused himself and you, pulling you up by the crook of your elbow. “Wouldn’t want you to be late to work with all those big projects you have.”

You wondered what big projects he was talking about. Your higher-ups barely even allowed you to proofread the company documents and fix typos. But the look in his eyes said he needed you to play along.

“Right, right,” you sighed and went with him, offering his mother one last sweet smile before the bedroom door shut behind you and Joshua practically trapped you against it. 

“She’s onto us,” he told you quietly, all the while still avoiding your eyes. “She’s onto us and she’s probably already setting up a blind date with that Maria-girl.”

“Wasn’t it Mary?” you wondered.

Joshua replied with a half-hearted glare and a sigh. “We need to fix this.”

“But how?” You crossed your arms over your chest, mostly to convince yourself that there was enough space between your and his body to not have the butterflies go absolutely wild. “We just, what, kiss and make up?”

His eyes lit up and you feared for your life. “You’re a genius!”

“Shua, I was being sarcastic.”

He didn’t even seem to hear your protests. “If we kiss, she has no reason to suspect we’re not together. And she’ll be off our backs. It’s perfect.”

The things you would’ve done to kiss Joshua Hong and his beautiful, plump lips… 

Joshua must have mistaken your eager expression for one of dismay or maybe fear because his eyes widened. He lifted his hands in a way that just screamed ‘I was just kidding, please don’t hit me’ before quickly adding, “Not that I want to kiss you – I’m sure you’re a great kisser. We don’t have to kiss though. Because–”

“Because we’re friends,” you finished for him with a smile that you hoped wouldn’t betray your disappointment, “and it would make things awkward, right?”

“Right,” he breathed out and visibly relaxing – slumping even – in front of you. “I’m sorry I even suggested that. It’s dumb. You’re my friend – you shouldn’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to just because of a stupid scheme to please my mom.”

If you don’t want to. If you don’t want to. You almost scoffed in his face – he had no idea what he was saying.

You wondered what was the formal and correct way to inform your roommate that you had the biggest, fattest, most ridiculous crush on him and would sell your left kidney for one kiss – if only he wanted to kiss you back.

“Well, we have to convince her somehow, right?” you pointed out as you prepared to start doing your hair. “I doubt a hug will make her less suspicious.”

Joshua chuckled. “You noticed it too?”

“She was acting like she expected us to slip up and confess at any moment,” you reminded him with a quirk of your brow, eyeing him through the mirror. “What did she say? ‘You wouldn’t lie to me’? Oddly specific, no?”

“We’re so screwed if we don’t figure something out,” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair (it took you great strength to resist the urge to reach over and give his fluffy utter mess of dark hair a pat as well).

You schooled your expression, willing the beginnings of a blush to go away, as you suggested, “We could still do something kiss-related, you know. Just this once, to get her off our backs.”

“I’m not kissing you,” he argued instantly, ears reddening.

Why was he so god-damn difficult? Why did he have to go on an anxious mental tangent about the wrongs of kissing one’s roommate? Why couldn’t he just kiss you already?! It was his idea anyway!

You almost rolled your eyes as you came up with an alternative, “I could kiss you on the cheek when I leave. Not as good as a kiss but–”

“That could work.”

“Okay, great, we’ve figured it out,” you told him with a chuckle and gently pushed him towards the door. “Now, get out. You haven’t dated me long enough to earn the privilege of seeing me naked yet.”

He snorted a laugh at that – you were half sure it was because he had, in fact, at one point seen you naked, under very different and less than ideal circumstances involving one too many shots of Bacardi – before leaving you to your thoughts and doubts and the knowledge that your roommate did not want to kiss you at all.

[DAY 7, THURSDAY]

While there was an extensive list of reasons why Joshua Hong was the most infuriating man you had ever met (and you meant this very affectionately, which your friends found hilarious), there was an equally extensive list of reasons why Joshua was the ideal man.

His looks were definitely on the list – his doe-like brown eyes, his little bird’s nest of morning hair, his bright smiles to name some of the points.

But it wasn’t all that superficial. You loved his sense of humour. You liked his unlimited patience and kindness. 

Most of all, you loved his cooking.

On most evenings, you got home from work and found your roommate beginning to prepare dinner. He’d offer you a wide smile and ask if his plan of tomato rigatoni suited your tastes. And then he’d just let you rant about your day as he cooked, a drink in your hand.

This tradition had been briefly broken by Joshua’s mother taking over kitchen duties. She felt it was only fair as she was staying in your apartment for free for such a prolonged time. But as much as you loved her food (which almost rivalled Joshua’s), you just missed your daily gossip sessions. 

So, when you got home from work and found your roommate, friend, and fake boyfriend extraordinaire sorting through ingredients on the kitchen counter, you almost cried of joy. You had so many tales to share and you were eager to listen to his stories as well (your last gossip session had ended on a cliffhanger on his part). 

“You’re cooking?” you asked him, leaning over to look at the ingredients, before even remembering that was not how you were meant to greet someone. 

Joshua jumped at voice before resting a hand on his chest and taking a deep breath. “Oh my god…”

“Did I scare you?” you laughed at him and offered an apologetic expression when he turned to glare at you. “So, what are you cooking?”

“I was going to just make some vegetable soup,” he informed you with a tired chuckle. “Mom’s feeling a little under the weather so…”

You couldn’t help but melt at the implications. The grand scheme of fake dating aside, Joshua was a great son to his mother. Yet another reason to add to your ever-growing list. 

And perhaps it was the melting of your heart that affected your brain activity because the next thing you knew you were doing the unthinkable.

“Can I help somehow?” you asked him. 

Even Joshua was startled by your question. And you soon realised why.

In disbelief, you scoffed. “C’mon, I’ve helped you before.”

“Have you?” His head tilted to the side in a manner resembling a curious cat but his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You never offer to help cook. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you use a pan.”

“Shush,” you told him and gave him a gentle slap on the bicep. “What do you need me to do?”

Looking at the various vegetables on the counter, he puffed his cheeks out in thought. Then he shrugged. “You could help with the potatoes.”

“What do I do with them?”

He sighed theatrically. “This is why I never let you help.”

“Hey!”

“Just peel and cut them into pieces, okay?” he finally instructed with a laugh that suggested he did not have a lot of faith in your ability to do so. “Not too small though.”

“I know how to cut potatoes, Shua,” you told him as you got out a knife and cutting board. “I’m a big girl.”

When he offered you another suspicious and perhaps worried glance, you decided it was time to prove a point. He didn’t think you could peel and cut a potato into perfect pieces for a soup? You were going to prove him wrong and you were going to make him eat his words.

It started out great. The first potato was a breeze, peeled and cut in record time. The second and third potato were a joy to turn into smaller chunks and chuck into the bowl Joshua had provided for you. While working on the fourth potato, you started sharing gossip from work and it didn’t affect your task at all. 

For a moment you were certain Joshua would regret doubting you. You were sure there was no way you were going to mess this up and make him question your cooking abilities ever again. 

That is until you reached the last potato. It was two chops in when you let out a whimper, dropped the knife and cradled your hand to your chest.

Joshua’s head snapped up immediately.  Eyes widening in concern, he rushed to your side. “Are you bleeding?”

“Yeah,” you sighed and reached for a towel to dry the blood. “It’s no big deal though, so don’t worry. I’ll g0 find some band-aids and–”

“Don’t get any blood on the potatoes,” he warned with a serious frown and your jaw dropped.

You smacked him with your good hand when his scowl turned into a mischievous smile.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he laughed and left the room. He returned just moments later with the first-aid kit. “Come here, silly. Let’s get that fixed up.”

When he reached for your injured hand, you snorted out a laugh. “You know, I can put the band-aid on by myself.”

“Who knows,” he teased all the while focusing on your wound, “maybe you’d mess that up as well.”

“Now you’re just being mean,” you told him but made no move to escape from your handsome nurse.

Leaning ridiculously close to you, he gently applied the band-aid. When you let out a soft hiss at the pain (mostly just to mess with him), he pouted and pressed a soft kiss to the spot. “That better?”

It was just your luck that his mother decided to come for a glass of water at that exact moment. She let out a soft gasp of delight before feigning nonchalance when your heads snapped to look at her. 

Clearing his throat, Joshua immediately leaned away, straightened up, and offered her a taut smile. 

“Don’t mind me, lovebirds,” she spoke in a theatrical whisper and rushed over to the cupboard to get a glass. “I’m not even here.”

You fought a grimace and turned back to your cutting board. The potato wasn’t going to cut itself and the pot of broth was already calling its name. 

“You’re making soup?” she wondered and lifted a glass of water to her lips, barely even bothering to hide a smile. “It smells delicious.”

Joshua chuckled. “It will be, once (Y/n) finishes the potatoes and we add them in.”

Her jaw dropped and she lowered her glass of water. 

“Joshua!” 

Her voice could only be described as the dictionary definition of the tone of a mother scolding her children for getting into trouble. It sent a shiver of fear down your spine until you realised it wasn’t you she was yelling at.

Your roommate offered you a panicked look before turning to look at his mother, offering her a tight-lipped, fearful smile. “Yes?”

“You’re not actually going to make your girlfriend cook when she’s injured like this, right?!” she demanded to know, her brows furrowed into a furious frown. “She’s bleeding!”

“She’s fine,” Joshua started to argue but his voice trailed lower and lower with every syllable until it faded into silence and his gaze dropped to the floor in shame. 

She glared at him and reached to drag you away from the counter by the sleeve of your blouse. “Come on, sweetheart. You can come watch a movie with me while Joshua thinks about what he’s done.”

As you made your escape from the heat of the kitchen, you glanced over your shoulder to find Joshua looking at you with a dramatic grimace. You replied with a bright smile of victory and a playful wave before joining his mother in watching Mamma Mia.

[DAY 12, TUESDAY]

As far as ways to throw your roommate’s mom off your trail go, cheek kisses were good enough for the first couple of days. You quite grew to like them and, judging by the pinks of his ears and cheeks, so did Joshua. Every morning, you’d leave for work with a kiss to his cheek, a sweet smile and prep to your steps.

Then, of course, his mother made an off-hand comment about how it seems that Joshua never kisses you and he, of course, took that as a challenge. So, he began sending you off with forehead kisses and warm hugs. You like those even more, honestly. 

But you both knew you were delaying the inevitable. Eventually, the cheek and forehead kisses would not be enough proof of your relationship. Paired with no late-evening love-drunk giggles and movie night cuddles, the morning kisses were barely enough to convince anyone and eventually you’d have to up your game.

You had simply hoped you’d have more time to come to terms with the fact before it happened.

“Mom’s starting to get suspicious again,” Joshua simply stated in a hushed tone as he helped you put on your coat. 

Your heart dropped at the mention. When you turned to look at him, he was looking at everything but your eyes. “Is she asking questions again?”

“She told me to stop eating so much garlic bread because it would make my breath stink,” he said while staring at the fake plant sat on the shoe rack. “That feels like a hint.”

“Well, you don’t want to kiss me, so,” you pointed out with a shrug and shook your scarf to unravel it. “Just tell her it’s my breath that’s bad.”

“No way. Everybody knows your breath smells like roses and vanilla,” he joked and you choked on a laugh. He took your scarf from you and untangled a knot in the middle. 

With nothing to do but stare at him, you came up with a mutually beneficial idea. “We could just fake it.”

“How do you fake a kiss?” he wondered, eyes narrowing and brows furrowing.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Isn’t that what they do in movies? We just have to get the angle right.”

“How does that work?” 

It turns out it’s hard to answer any questions when your crush is standing in your personal space – so close that you could smell his shampoo and conditioner. Your brain stalled, blanked and desperately tried to restart all necessary systems while you stared at him. 

“Like this?” you heard his voice say but it sounded distant over the sound of your heart pumping.

Not seeming to notice your daze, Joshua placed the scarf around your neck gently. Carefully, he tugged on the two ends of it, pulling you closer inch by inch until you were so close that you had to fight yourself to not actually kiss him. He leaned closer and closer still, his nose brushing against yours, his hands still wrapped in the scarf to keep you from escaping. If you focused really hard, you could almost feel his lips brushing against yours ever so slightly.

The sound of the coffee maker starting and a mug being placed on the counter awakened you again, harshly forcing you back into consciousness. You let out a soft gasp without really meaning to. 

“That– That was–” Joshua stammered, stepping away from you like he’d been burned and running a hand through his hair. 

You cleared your throat. “That could work… I guess…”

“Right.” 

“Yeah.”

“Have— Have a good day…”

“Yeah.”

You couldn’t find another word to say until you reached your office. There, you slumped into your almost-comfy chair and stared at the ceiling. 

“Fuck.”

[DAY 16, SATURDAY]

Brunch is meant to be fun. It’s meant to bring joy. It’s breakfast without the hassle of waking up at 8 am – what’s not to love?

Well, you weren’t sure you liked brunch that much anymore.

Traumatised (a bit of a hyperbole) and furious (the scientifically correct term), you walked into your room and shut the door behind you before turning to glare at Joshua.

While you had gone out to eat with his mother – at her insistence and with a promise of free food –, your roommate stayed home with the excuse of a headache and snuggled into your blankets like it was his rightful place.

“You.”

His eyes blinked open. “Me?”

“Why do you never read your damn messages?” you burst out but tried to keep your voice low to not catch his mother’s attention. “I sent you, like, fifty.”

“You did?” He seemed genuinely surprised. Which meant that he hadn’t even looked at his phone once in the hours you were gone. Why did he even have a phone in the first place?

Your hands clenched into fists. “What if I died?!”

“My mom asking you to brunch isn’t really a deadly occasion.”

“I barely survived! She asked me about grandkids!”

“Oh.”

Your glare was unrelenting. You hoped it would somehow telepathically convey how much you wished to strangle him if only it weren’t illegal and you weren’t desperately in love with him.

“Well, what did you tell her?” he then wondered and you almost actually jumped to tackle and murder him.

“What do you think I told her, Joshua?” You scoffed. “I just said we hadn’t thought about it because this is still new and you know what she did? Do you want to know what she did?”

He raised a brow. “I guess so?”

“She started giving me the whole ‘you don’t have forever’ and ‘I’d like grandkids before I turn 70’ spiel,” you informed him and groaned. “It went on forever.”

“You’re a good actor,” he assured you with a small smile that almost seemed amused, “I’m sure you got your way out of it.”

“You’re sleeping on the floor tonight,” you told him with a roll of your eyes.

He gasped. “Because my mom asked about grandkids?!”

“Because you don’t read my texts.”

Joshua paused. “Yeah, that’s fair, actually.”

[DAY 20, WEDNESDAY]

Enough was enough. You could put up with many things – your roommate’s pranks, Chan’s endless fantasies about how he’s secretly the most sensible inhabitant of the building, Joshua’s mother staying for a month with little to no notice – but you even your charitability had its limits.

When you’d woken up this morning, your back positively aching and your joints sore from being stuck between Joshua’s wall-like form and the actual wall, the first thought you had was something Chan said:

“What are you getting out of this arrangement anyways? He gets his mom off his back, and you? Is getting to live out your late-night fantasies the only perk?”

And that was when you decided that you had finally reached your limit. With a shove that was far from affectionate or fond, you awakened Joshua and declared before he could even rub the sleep out of his eyes that he’d better keep his evening schedule and a sizable number on his bank account free for you.

What followed had been a shopping trip that dismayed him and exhilarated you. You had, after all, wanted a proper big bed for a while now. Finally, a chance to sprawl out and live out your starfish dreams without the worry of falling to the cold hard ground at 2 am. And more importantly, no more being pushed against the wall like an undignified cushion every other night.

But the thing you enjoyed most of all was Joshua’s hair getting progressively more messy and unkempt as he tried to decipher the IKEA instructions all on his own while you curled up in your desk chair and watched him with a cup of hot cocoa in hand.

“I thought you’d be better at this,” you noted passively upon hearing his frustrated sigh and seeing him unscrew what you assumed was meant to be one of the legs of the new bed. “Maybe I should’ve asked for Jeonghan’s help instead.”

The glare he sent your way was scathing but his tone remained as delightful as always when he assured you, “I’ve got this, don’t worry.”

You made a show of glancing at the time on your laptop – a rerun of Friends playing in the background in an effort to entertain your poor IKEA slave of the night – and announced, “I’m just saying. It’s almost midnight and you’ve only managed to add one leg to the frame.”

He groaned. “It’s not my fault this thing is so complicated. Why couldn’t you pick out a different frame? Something more easy to assemble, for one.”

“I wanted this one,” you teased.

“The oak one you looked at at first would’ve been better. And cheaper.”

“If you want me to keep playing along in your little improv show, you’d better be happy I only asked for a 700,000-won bed in return,” you pointed out and took a sip of your cocoa. 

You sighed happily at the warmth the drink provided. Oh the joys of girlhood. You thought you could get used to this: free furniture, free assembly, and a handsome man to do your bidding.

Joshua’s lips and eyes squeezed into a sarcastic smile as he slowly turned to face you. “Don’t forget the mattress, darling.”

You shrugged. “I didn’t see you protesting at the check-out.”

His smile dropped into yet another glare. “That’s called being in shock. My bank account is dying because of you.”

Without another word, he sharply turned back to his task of assembling the frame.

“This benefits you too, sweetheart,” you replied with a roll of your eyes. “I sleep better, you sleep better, everybody benefits.”

“For ten days,” he muttered and practically slammed two pieces of wood together now that he was sure they were meant to go together. “And then you have a new comfy bed and I just have poverty.”

You snorted. “I’m willing to split custody if you’re nice to me.”

It didn’t take a genius to know he was rolling his eyes. “Yeah right.”

“Besides,” you adjusted your position so you could nudge his back with your foot in an affectionate manner, “you barge in here to gossip every other night anyways. You’re benefiting plenty.”

“Remind me to never ask you to be my fake girlfriend ever again,” he pleaded.

You knew (or perhaps wished) he only half-meant it. But even so there was a pang in your chest. A feeling of sadness as the reality once again sank in. It was easy to forget that this was just an act and he had only bought you this bed because he felt guilty and not because he loved you. The feeling would nag you late into the night.

[DAY 22,  FRIDAY]

You had learnt early on that karaoke has the magical ability to heal wounds and erase bad memories, even if just for one night. Tonight you hoped it would once again prove true.

The building’s monthly karaoke parties were organised by Vernon and Jihoon in an effort to bring the community closer together. On every third Friday of the month, the lobby of the building would be lit with stage and string lights, decorated with colourful banners and dollar store party supplies, and a small stage would be built in the corner. As was tradition, everyone brought some snacks and drinks to the snack table and enjoyed the evening, getting progressively more drunk between karaoke and socialising. 

You thought it was the perfect solution to your problems. With the help of loud music, your nosy friends and alcohol, you would for sure soon forget your heartache and worries. 

There was, however, one problem you had forgotten: Joshua’s protective nature.

You had successfully managed to avoid him for the better part of the evening, sneaking between people, hiding behind Mingyu’s wide frame under the guise of playing hide and seek with your roommate (something Mingyu was very happy to help with; you suspected he just liked to feel useful), and running at every mention of Joshua. 

Seamlessly, the karaoke soon worked its miracle. You found you had missed the liberty that came with hanging out with your friends and not worrying how everything appears to Joshua’s mother. For this one night, you were not Joshua’s fake girlfriend, not someone’s pretend-daughter-in-law, and not an actress struggling at improv – you were once again just (Y/n), a simple woman in love with her best friend, eyeing him from across the room and giggling with your friends about it.

By the time you remembered you were hiding from him, you were far from sober and your thoughts were getting a little jumbled as you made conversation with Minghao, laughing between every other word because saying things was hard and your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. Minghao didn’t say a word and only smiled at you fondly, like one would at a kitten trying to chase after shoelaces, as he listened to you. 

His attention was caught by something behind you and you saw him give someone a gentle nod and a bright smile. Then, before you could even process the situation or ask any questions, he placed a hand on your shoulder and turned you around, bringing you face to face with him. 

You weren’t sure what it was about the dollar store lighting in the lobby, but you had always thought it made Joshua look even more delectable. It was hard not to stare at the shadow his lashes cast on his cheeks or the definition of his muscles visible through the thin fabric of his button-up shirt.

“Hi!” You greeted him with a wave and an intoxicated giggle, momentarily forgetting about the freshly opened can of beer in your hand and letting it slosh in your hands. “Oh! Sorry, my bad!”

A situation you would’ve once thought to be mortifying only made you laugh harder tonight as you searched for tissues and began to dry your hand. You didn’t notice when Joshua had taken the drink from you but you also wouldn’t notice he never gave it back.

He watched you with a smile. “Having fun?”

“Oh my god, I’m having so much fun,” you rambled, eyes shining as you looked at him, already forgetting your quest to dry the floor. “Did you see when Seungcheol and I did ‘Alcohol-Free’ together? It was so much fun–”

It was hard to finish your thought when he looked at you with those pretty eyes, and smile, and– 

He adjusted the sleeves of your dress for you and you almost melted. All thoughts gone. Words? Never heard of those.

You were silent for so long that he chuckled. “You awake?”

“I– Yeah, totally,” you replied, blinking your eyes to force yourself to focus again. “How about you? Are you having fun?”

He shrugged. “I usually have more fun when you’re with me.”

“Oh.”

“You didn’t even sing ‘Breaking Free’ with me tonight,” he complained playfully but you thought you saw a hint of actual sadness in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re making friends with Seungcheol though.”

You hummed and nodded. “He’s very nice. Very handsome too.”

His eyes widened and you couldn’t quite figure out why. 

Not that you even wanted to figure it out. You were, in all honesty, more preoccupied with memorising how pretty he looked with his doe eyes. The purples and yellows and pinks of the lights reflected back from the browns of his eyes and you thought it was the prettiest sight you had ever witnessed. No sunset, sunrise or wild landscape could compete with this view. 

And you wanted to tell him that; but words were so hard when your blood was buzzing with alcohol and adrenaline. So you thought you should show him somehow. 

Your eyes closed briefly. You leaned forward just a bit. Then your lips pressed against his. For just a moment. You couldn’t help but smile as you leaned back and opened your eyes again.

If you had thought his eyes were pretty before, they were positively the most gorgeous sight now as he stared back at you in wonder and confusion. There were not enough words in the dictionary. You thought they ought to fix that problem and add a few just to be safe. 

“The girl who wins your heart will be so lucky,” you told him softly and pressed another gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I wish I was her.”

“(Y/n), I–” he started and you felt the alcohol leave your blood in an instant, the warm buzzing replaced with a cold rush. 

Before he could say anything in response, you ran out of the party. 

[DAY 23, SATURDAY]

Seokmin had always heavily advertised the building’s monthly karaoke parties as “life-altering”. He wrote that in large letters with a bright red marker on every karaoke party notice he saw and he said the exact phrase to every person he talked to in the week leading up to the event. Which was especially funny because 1) he wasn’t on the advertising team, 2) there was no advertising team to begin with, and 3) he never even volunteered to help organise the events. You had concluded that he was just very incredibly enthusiastic about karaoke (and with a voice like his how could one not be?).

But you now feared he was right after all.

Upon realising your mistake, you had, for a moment, contemplated going home and hiding in your room before you realised it would be the first place he’d look for you.

So, instead, you sent a silent apology your best friend’s way and took the spare key from under the doormat before letting yourself into Chan's apartment. 

Even as the morning arrived, you didn’t dare face Joshua. Not after what had happened. Not after you had kissed him and told him you wished he’d fall in love with you and kissed him again. You could never go home again. 

Chan looked away from his laptop screen just to give you a look with one of his brows raised. “You literally live with him.”

“That’s the whole point. I can’t go home,” you told him, lying face-down against his thigh. 

Turns out it’s surprisingly easy to make physical contact with men when you’re not attracted to them. You silently wondered if that could be the solution to your obvious touch-starvation problem – why else would you drunkenly kiss your roommate?

He rolled his eyes. “Then what’s your plan, drama queen?”

You didn’t answer, mulling it over in your head. There really weren’t a lot of options. 

Maybe it was a sign – finally you could fulfil your life-long dream of adopting a new identity and moving to Iceland to become an anonymous sheep herder. It sure sounded more tempting than facing Joshua Hong again.

Before you could open your mouth to suggest a viable idea, Chan beat you to it with a click of his tongue. “You’re too poor to move to Iceland. And no, you can’t move into my place either.”

There went your plan A as well as plan B.

“Fuck you,” you told him and rolled over to face the ceiling. “Then what do I do?”

“What you always do, I guess,” he sighed and turned back to his online shopping addiction. “You complain a bit, throw an apple at my head, and then pretend nothing ever happened between you and Joshua.”

You blinked. “Do I always do that?” 

“Without fail.”

You hadn’t realised there was a pattern. Perhaps this whole thing was worse than you had thought. Perhaps taking a new identity and running really was your only option. And who knows, you thought, maybe you’d find a nice man in Iceland and fall in love with a not-Joshua instead. Then you’d at least be free of one problem, even if at the expense of a new set of issues.

“Instead of catastrophizing, you should use this opportunity,” Chan broke the silence, eyes still on the screen.

You suddenly understood why throwing an apple at his head was part of the pattern. Fortunately for him, the apples were just out of your reach and you were too comfy and hungover to go get even one. “To fake my death and go into hiding? Absolutely.”

“What? No!” He frowned at you as if you had suggested 2+2 was 5. “What is wrong with you? You need to face this whole thing head-on instead of making escape plans!”

“I’d honestly rather go missing under mysterious circumstances.”

“Or,” he started and flicked your forehead with his fingers, making you curse at him as he rolled his eyes, “you could accept the fact that you confessed to your crush and see what he thinks of that.”

“He looked horrified last night.”

“You were drunk and kissed him without permission,” he reminded you helpfully. You failed to see how that information would soften the blow. If anything, it was making you feel like a predator – and not even a very clever one. You grimaced. “Give the poor guy a minute to process before jumping to conclusions. He was just surprised. If you stuck around instead of pulling a Cinderella, maybe you would’ve found out it wasn’t that big of a deal. Who knows, maybe he even likes you back.”

“Pull a Cinder–” You sputtered and glared at him. “Why do I ever come to you for advice?”

He offered a smug smile. “Because deep down you know I’m right.”

You were certain he wasn’t. You couldn’t imagine any scenario outside of your daydreams where the situation could’ve been resolved with a smile and a confession from Joshua Hong. You could, however, imagine a thousand scenarios of him running away or being so disgusted by your behaviour that he’d call off the fake dating scheme once and for all.

Seeing your hopeless expression, Chan sighed. “Instead of making doom’s day plans, try to look at the bright side of things.”

“What bright side?” you asked, closing your eyes and wishing the month would end already. “I embarrassed myself in front of my crush. What’s the bright side, Mr Positivity?”

His silence spoke louder than any words ever could have.

[DAY 24, SUNDAY]

After two nights at Chan’s apartment, you finally decided it was time to face your nightmare. If Joshua hadn’t unilaterally called off the scheme yet, his mother must have for sure been worried about the state of things. You thought you owed him at least these last 7 days of fulfilling this nonsensical plan. 

So, after two cups of coffee and a pep talk from Lee Chan, you braced yourself and walked into your own apartment for the first time all weekend. 

It was silent. Of course it was, you thought and facepalmed: it was only 8 am on a Sunday. Just because your sins and demons had kept you from sleeping in didn’t mean Joshua and his mother would be awake at this damned hour.

You were just about to come to terms with the fact when a soft pitter-patter of feet interrupted the silence. The steps came closer and you took a deep breath to calm yourself, praying it wouldn’t be who you thought it was.

But you knew it was a useless hope. You had lived with Joshua long enough to recognise his footsteps and the rhythm of his snores in your sleep. 

He let out a sigh that seemed almost relieved once he reached the living room. 

“Where were you?” you expected him to ask and put on his best impression of an overprotective dad. 

“How dare you come back here?” you half thought he’d say and glare at you as he’d shove a bag full of your clothes into your arms and kick you out.

But he just watched you in silence for a moment as if to make sure you were real and not a figment of his overactive imagination. And only once you had been pushed to the point of awkwardness where you couldn’t help but put on a tight-lipped smile and a shrug did he finally open his mouth to ask, “Did you eat yet?”

You had almost forgotten what he sounded like and it was a pleasant feeling to listen to him again. The soft murmur and slight sleepy growl to his voice sounded like home and it made the butterflies in your stomach come back to life with a roar of fluttering wings, free of shame and fear.

Your smile almost felt genuine when you replied, “I was going to make pancakes…” 

… To make up for what I did went unsaid, but you suspected he knew they were there nonetheless. 

He yawned in a way that didn’t seem entirely real, as if he was putting on an act to ease the awkwardness. After glancing at the clock he spoke again, “I kind of want to go eat breakfast outside today.”

“Oh.” 

You felt a little dejected at the thought but you understood. If someone had done to you what you had to him – someone you thought was your friend suddenly kissed you and confessed to you, even drunkenly –, you probably would have needed more time as well. If he didn’t want to eat breakfast at home with you, it was his right. You were sure his mother was better company than you anyways.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt you though. You turned your head to fight back the tears that threatened to make a comeback. You didn’t think you had any right to cry but that didn’t mean you didn’t want to. 

But before you could spiral further, Joshua chuckled, “Don’t worry. I’ll pay. You can get as many waffles as you want.”

Your head snapped to face him again, eyes blinking rapidly. You pointed at yourself. “You want me to–”

“Get dressed, silly. I’m too poor to pay for both you and mom, you know.” He could hardly keep from smiling. “Besides, we need to talk, just you and I.”

And talk you did. Or at least you would have if you weren’t so distracted by waffles and a sense of impending doom. You could hardly sit still in your chair, feeling uncomfortable sitting across from him. 

Any moment now, you thought, he’s going to say you were an awful person. Any moment now, he’s going to say it was all a big mistake and he should’ve just asked Jeonghan to fake date him instead. 

But maybe Chan was right and you were a fair bit overdramatic. 

“So about the other night,” Joshua finally started with a heavy sigh and put down his coffee cup. He avoided your eyes (not that you would’ve noticed because you were too busy avoiding his anyway) as he searched for words to say. 

“I’m sorry about that,” you blurted out, abandoning your waffles. 

He paused. “Sorry?”

“I’m sorry for… you know…” You couldn’t even say the words because it was so dumb and ridiculous and shouldn’t have ever happened anyway. How does one apologise for kissing someone? You forced yourself to look him in the eyes. “I shouldn’t have done it. I was just drunk and dumb and silly– You know how I get.”

He nodded. “Right. You were just… drunk.”

“Yep.”

“And you just kissed me because…”

“I was excited to see you,” you half-lied and avoided his eyes again. “I just hadn’t seen you all night and there you were and I guess I got a little…” Carried away? Lovestruck? “It doesn’t change anything, I swear. I was drunk.”

Silence. He was silent for so long that you were half-convinced he’d gone and left you to your own devices. Paying for the breakfast would’ve been the least of your worries.

When you looked up to see if he was still there, you saw him looking down at his food. He seemed… sad? Disappointed? Upset with you for making such silly excuses maybe? You shuddered to think what that odd dim look on his face meant.

The butterflies that had woken up just an hour ago went back to rest, ashamed of their work. You could just hope he wouldn’t hate you forever or kick you out of the apartment. 

Finally, after what felt like forever and then some years, Joshua forced on a smile that was a little too bright to be real. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re back. Where did you even go after the karaoke?”

“I–” You were both overjoyed and taken aback by his question. He cared. He cared and he didn’t want you gone from his life. “I kind of broke into Chan’s apartment and stayed there.”

Brows furrowing and the corner of his mouth turning downwards, he scoffed. “Instead of just coming home? I was worried sick!”

“I’m sorry!” you squeaked and somehow it was the most sincere apology you had uttered today. “I was just so embarrassed and I didn’t think you’d want to see me, so–”

“I always want to see you,” he argued with a disbelieving laugh. “You’re my best friend, (Y/n). I could never be so mad at you that I’d never want to see you. You had me so worried! I thought you’d gone to sleep in a dumpster somewhere.”

There he was – the Joshua you had fallen so hopelessly in love with. Your silly, protective, way too sweet and dramatic Joshua. And you didn’t feel ashamed to be in front of him. 

A smile forced its way onto your lips at the thought.

“What are you smiling at? This is serious!” He could hardly fight a grin himself, already bordering on giggling at your argument. “I was worried about you. And mom kept asking about you and I almost told her you’d moved to Iceland like you always dreamed–”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupted him with a laugh. “I’m sorry, again. You can stop being a worry-wart now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He rolled his eyes theatrically. “Next time I’ll just leave you to freeze in the dumpster.”

“I didn’t sleep in a dumpster!”

“Chan’s place is not much better.”

[DAY 26, TUESDAY]

You had hoped that your Sunday breakfast apologies would be the last your actions would haunt you aside from the regular night-time program of nightmares. You had apologised, you had made up, and you were friends with Joshua again as if nothing had happened at all.

Had there been a small, minimal, miniscule glimmer of hope in your heart that Chan’s words would be true and Joshua would tell you he liked you back? Sure. 

Had it been crushed to the point of no revival? Absolutely. 

“Oh, hey, (Y/n),” Vernon greeted you when you entered the building’s lobby after a long day of work. 

You glanced around and noted that, as per usual, the clean-up of the karaoke party was taking five days longer than the setting up. It was only natural, you supposed, as Jihoon was too busy to bother with this and Vernon – as per Junhui and Seungkwan’s accounts – was not the biggest fan of cleaning. Today, four days after the party, he was taking down the last string lights.

“I see some things never change,” you told him with a good-natured chuckle. 

Though it took him a moment to understand what you were implying, Vernon rolled his eyes once the realisation hit. “You’re welcome to come and help.”

You had walked right into that one and so you sighed. “Alright, what do you need?”

He laughed. “I was just joking. I’ve got this. I planned this entire thing anyway.”

“Wouldn’t you rather spend some time with your girlfriend?” you wondered. You could barely wrap your mind around how people with dating lives didn’t just spend all their free time cuddling and being in love.

“Ella’s fine,” he told you with a shrug. “She’s got Rocket and Mango to keep her company.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I think she’s probably sick of me, anyway.”

“Why?”

“... I ate the last ice cream.”

You snorted a laugh. “Might as well send in the divorce paperwork already.”

“Right?” he joked before raising his brows. “How about you?”

“What about me?”

“Why aren’t you at home, making googly eyes at Josh?”

You froze. Did he know about your crush? Vernon – the master of not noticing the things around him – had noticed your crush? How obvious had you been?

 “Why would I do that?” you asked after clearing your throat.

He scoffed. “Oh, come on, we all saw you at the party.”

It appeared the magical karaoke regrets would never stop haunting you. You cursed under your breath. 

Barely noting your silence, Vernon turned back to the lights but asked, “So, are you finally together? Did he finally confess?”

“Confess?”

You cringed as you felt like a broken record forced to perform, but your brain was too far in overdrive to maintain its normal operations.

“I mean, he’s been in love with you since like… forever, really,” he told you oh-so-casually, as if he was discussing the Monday paper or the weather. “I thought the dumbass would never confess. If he hadn’t, I’m sure Jeonghan and Seungkwan would’ve set up a ploy to get you to date.”

And just like that you found yourself on Chan’s sofa once again. He had only greeted you with a deep, heartfelt sigh and a nod that said he had expected this. 

As he fell next to you on the sofa, he took a sip of beer and said, “Do your thing, drama queen.”

You stayed silent, still pondering your existence and the ups and downs of your (non?)existent love life. 

Mouth agape in surprise at your lack of complaints, Chan waved a hand in front of your face. “Earth to (Y/n)? What happened? You know, it’s good to let your feelings out. I might complain about it sometimes but–”

“Vernon said Joshua has a crush on me,” you finally blurted out, staring ahead, still deep in disbelief. “It can’t be, right? He’s probably being silly. But what if he isn’t? What if he’s right? What if Joshua has a crush on me? What if he had a crush on me and then I kissed him and now he thinks I’m gross?”

It did feel good to let your feelings and thoughts out. And now they just sounded even sillier. Why? Well, because it was ridiculous – Joshua would never have a crush on you.

Chan blinked. “Vernon said that?”

“Do you think he’s right?”

He kissed his teeth. “And if I say yes?”

“Then why didn’t he say anything?” 

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because he can’t possibly like me!”

He rolled his eyes and leaned back. “There you go.”

“Why hasn’t he confessed? He could’ve told me to not apologise. He could’ve kissed me back. He could’ve–”

“Maybe he’s a coward and he’s waiting for you to confess first,” Chan guessed. “You know, kind of like how you’re doing right now.”

“You are entirely unhelpful,” you told him with a mild glare that one could almost mistake for fond. “I can’t just confess to him. Not after what happened.”

“Says who?”

“Can you stop asking questions and help me,” you whined before practically slamming your head against his shoulder in a search for comfort. “This is a serious crisis. Do you think he could actually like me?”

Chan hesitated. “You didn’t hear it from me, but…”

“But?”

“I’m pretty sure I overheard Jeonghan, Seungcheol and Joshua talking about you. And I’m pretty sure Joshua said he could never live with himself if you rejected him.”

“He did?”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” he reminded you and patted your arm in a brotherly manner. “So I say you go and confess and live happily ever after.”

You groaned. “Or miserably.”

“If that’s what you want,” he joked. “But you should still give it a try.”

“But not today though.”

“Definitely not today. You look like a mess,” he blurted. “He’d have to be pretty far gone to accept your confession, Ms Frankenstein.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and tensed as if he expected you to hit him – with an apple, you guessed – and you just scoffed out something akin to a laugh.

“I’d kick you if you weren’t such a good friend,” you told him instead and gently patted his cheek. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

[DAY 27, WEDNESDAY]

The alarm still had a few minutes before it would go off. 

You stared at Joshua as he slept soundly beside you. It was tempting to smooth down his hair and press a soft kiss to his forehead. But you had other things to do before you could do that. 

You took a deep breath and opened your lips to just whisper the words – as practice for the real confession you would definitely, 100%, certainly make in a few days – but no sound came out. 

You sighed and slumped back into your pillow. Confessing is harder than it looks in movies and books, even when he’s asleep and can’t hear you.

Joshua’s phone began ringing, notifying both him and you of the beginning of a new day. He stirred beside you. You pretended you’d been asleep this entire time.

[DAY 28, THURSDAY]

It was cold. So, so cold. Of course fate would have it that the first snowstorm of the year would hit without warning on the one day the last bus home was over an hour late. And of course it had to be on the one day when your boss asked (or, rather, begged) you to work overtime. 

But maybe fate wasn’t entirely cruel and useless, you thought as Seungcheol’s car stopped in front of the bus stop and he invited you inside with a worried smile and a wave.

“What are you doing out so late?” he wondered as he cranked the seat warmers up to the maximum. “Didn’t you watch the forecast?”

Oh. So they had issued a warning after all. 

“I’ve been a little distracted, I guess,” you told him with a sheepish laugh before thanking him for giving you a lift and wondering, “What about you? It’s not exactly driving weather.”

“Every weather is driving weather,” he joked and offered you a bright smile that for the shortest moment had you wishing you had fallen for him and not your stupidly endearing roommate. “I’m sure Joshua’s worried.”

You hadn’t even thought to check your phone until now. Frankly, judging by its recent battery life, you’d be shocked if it had any charge left at all.

“He’ll live.”

“Are you– I thought–” He hummed in thought, brows furrowing. “Are you not together?”

How you wished you were.

“No,” you sighed. “But I was going to confess tonight until, you know, my boss decided we needed those reports two days ago.”

Seungcheol nearly swerved his car in surprise. He was quick to fix his error – it went fairly smoothly with how empty the streets were this late at night. “I’m sorry. I really thought you were together. He’s been talking about you so much. I thought–”

“Apparently you’re not the only one.” You laughed. “I don’t know how he’ll feel if I do confess though. Maybe he’ll kick me out.”

“He won’t. No way,” he said and it almost sounded like a promise. “But if he does, tell me and I’ll kick his ass.”

“So you think I should confess?” 

“Do it. I think you’ll like the outcome.”

“How do you know?”

He shrugged. “Let’s just say I have some experience with love.”

[DAY 29, FRIDAY]

Back home, Joshua felt like he was going to go out of his mind. The clock on the wall was mocking him, moving forward even as his worry deepened. 

It was already almost midnight. You were usually home by 7. And yet there was no sign of you.

Sighing, he fell back onto the sofa and checked his phone again. He wasn’t sure how many times he had done that already. Fifteen? Fifty? Five hundred, perhaps? 

Still no calls back. Still no sign that you had read his messages. When he tapped on your contact to call you, it went to voicemail and he almost went insane.

“I’m sure she’s safe. She’ll be home soon,” his mother comforted him with a gentle pat on the shoulder. But her words were hard to believe when she was staying up later than usual with him, her third cup of peppermint tea sat on the coffee table in front of them.

The clock ticked midnight and Joshua jumped to his feet. “I’m going out to find her.”

“You’re going out? In this weather?” She didn’t need to use harsh words for him to know that she was scolding him. 

But he didn’t care. He couldn’t care when you weren’t home. 

So he ignored her warnings and pulled on his coat, his boots, and grabbed his car keys. 

“I’ll be back soon,” he called over his shoulder as he left the apartment. He heard her call something out to him but he couldn’t be bothered to listen when he was half-certain you were buried in a pile of snow somewhere. 

He was halfway down the stairs, somewhere between the first and second floor when he heard your voice. He could’ve sworn life returned to his veins at the sound. He sighed in relief and picked up the pace, hurrying to see you.

But then he heard another voice. Seungcheol. 

“If you like it, keep it,” the man from 5A spoke, his voice rich and low in a way Joshua just knew would have any woman weak at the knees. And how was he supposed to compete with that?

He heard you laugh – giggle, really. “That’s so sweet, Cheol.”

Cheol? Joshua almost scoffed in disbelief. It had taken him two months to get to the nickname stage with you and this man comes and reaches it in less than a month? 

He wasn’t sure what this feeling in his chest was. Anger? Bitterness? No, he was just lying to himself. He knew exactly what this feeling was: jealousy. And he’d be damned if he let this continue.

Dusting off his black wool coat, he picked up the pace again and rushed downstairs to meet you. 

The acting lessons his mother had signed him up for when he was a kid paid off now as he feigned surprise at the sight of you. Eyes widening, lips falling apart, and a gasp of air to really sell it. He ran to you from the bottom of the staircase.

“Sweetheart!” he called out as he practically tackled you in a hug. He didn’t even have to pretend as he held you close, one arm around your back and one pushing against the back of your head to keep you as close as humanly possible. “Where were you? I was so worried. Are you okay?”

You had squeaked in surprise and he almost laughed. He let you go (all the while making sure to keep one hand on your back) and asked again, “Are you okay, baby?”

You seemed to be speechless, staring at him with wide eyes full of confusion. 

Seungcheol cleared his throat and Joshua almost glared at him just to prove a point. “I should leave you with your…”

“Boyfriend,” Joshua quickly supplied with a smile he hoped came across as both friendly and venomous. You let out another squeak of surprise. 

“Right.” Seungcheol raised a single brow before sharing a funny look with you. “I’ll see you some other time then, (Y/n). And don’t let your boss make you work overtime again.”

With that, he climbed up the stairs, leaving just Joshua and you.

“You worked overtime?” Joshua wondered, visibly relaxing once Seungcheol was out of range. “How long?”

“Just until 10,” you replied but it sounded almost robotic. 

“It’s midnight,” he reminded you and took your hand to check if your hands were cold. He sighed in both relief that they were warm and disappointment that he didn’t have an excuse to play with your hands now. 

You scratched your head. “The bus was late. I don’t know if it even came.”

“So, then you called Seungcheol?” 

The implication hurt him. He thought he was your first call no matter what happened. He had been all these months, after all. Even if he sucked at reading messages, he never failed to answer the phone on the first ring. 

“I think my phone died. Cheol just happened to drive past,” you told him and, for once, he felt better. 

He sighed in relief and closed his eyes, taking the situation in. It felt like he could finally breathe and think again now that you were back home. 

“Joshua,” your voice interrupted his thoughts and he hummed, “are you okay?”

He opened his eyes and looked at you. The urge to pull you back into his arms was overwhelming. “You had me so worried.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I should’ve called but–”

“I can’t keep doing this.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He really hadn’t. But that hadn’t stopped him at all. 

You seemed startled at his words, not in a good way. In a way that made him wonder if you ever expected anything but the worst when he spoke to you. He had to put a stop to it. 

But before he could, you scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re acting like I do this often.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Also, what just happened with Cheol?” He wasn’t sure what had set you off, but he felt himself matching your energy, getting agitated. “Since when are you introducing yourself as my boyfriend to our neighbours? If you wanted to do that, you should have warned me.”

“I lied,” he blurted out before you could continue. “I’ve been lying to you a lot.” 

You froze. “You… You lied? What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath. “When I lied to my mom, when I told her we were dating – it wasn’t random. I said I was dating you because… I guess I just wanted it to be real. I wasn’t nervous because I lied to her. I was nervous because I thought you’d be disgusted and upset and hate me. But I’ve liked you since the day you moved in and I’ve been in love with you since the time you borrowed my sweater in August because the moths ate all of yours.”

“You like me?” you asked dumbly and he actually laughed.

Joshua nodded. “I’m in love with you in a way I didn’t think I could ever be with anyone.”

“And… you’re choosing to confess now?” You glanced around at the empty lobby, only a single sconce lamp lighting the way into the building. “Here? Like this? Why?”

“Seungcheol–”

Your jaw dropped. “Because you’re jealous?!”

Joshua scratched the back of his neck and avoided your eyes. He didn’t have a single excuse. He was an impulsive man. He rarely thought of the consequences or even of what he was doing in that moment. Especially when it came to you. He looked down at his feet.

“I mean,” you continued with a chuckle, “I guess I’m no better. I kissed you at the karaoke just because I thought you were pretty.”

“I should’ve kissed you back,” he told you earnestly. 

You blinked. And then you blinked again. Then he saw a mischievous glint in your eye. “You should. Right now.”

You couldn’t have been serious. He didn’t think you were. There was no way.

“You can’t just confess to me like this and then not kiss me,” you told him and you didn’t sound mad at him. “You owe me that much after that scene with Seungcheol and confessing to me in the building lobby, Mr Gentleman.”

Who was he to argue? 

Taking another long gulp of air, he leaned closer. Slowly, centimetre by centimetre, unsure if you were serious or not. 

It was his turn to squeak in surprise when you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt coat and pulled him closer to kiss his lips. 

“So,” he wondered, voice soft and dazed, when you pulled away, “you like me back?”

“You can ask Chan for proof, if you want,” you simply told him before kissing him again. 

He didn’t care to ask for an explanation. Not when he was finally getting everything he wanted.

 [DAY 30, SUNDAY]

Turns out fake dating becomes a lot easier when you just actually date. Who could’ve guessed?

The agony of sharing your bed and being pushed against the wall no matter the size of your mattress was replaced with the domestic joy of being able to cuddle your boyfriend. By the second night of dating Joshua, you had found your favourite position was letting him lie half on top of you, his head resting against your chest at the perfect angle to play with his hair. 

The awkward breakfasts full of lies… Well, they still had a few emergency lies here and there, but for the most part it was stealing bites off his plate and nudging each other while giggling as his mother watched you with a mildly amused look on her face.

And the kisses. You couldn’t get enough of the kisses and neither could the butterflies in your stomach, still fluttering the same as they had during your first kiss even now as he kissed you for the fiftieth time (yes, you had kept count). 

It was only a shame that the real dating started so late into the scheme. After only two days of domestic bliss, it was time for his mother to pack her bags and go home.

Dressed in a warm coat and wrapped in a large scarf, she offered her son a warm hug, whispering endearments and gentle scoldings into his ear as you waited in the lobby. You suspected her taxi driver had fallen asleep by now.  

She then gave you a hug as well. A short and sweet one with a warning to treat her son well. And then she added, “Oh, before I forget, I left something on the kitchen table for you. Read it later, okay?”

You nodded and sent her off with a smile.

Joshua joined your side, resting a hand on your back (a new habit of his that you didn’t quite mind). He wore a smile.

“What did she tell you?” you asked him. “When you were hugging.”

“Told me to stop leaving the toilet seat up,” he told you and you suspected it was only half the truth. “What about you?”

“She said she left something on the kitchen table for us to read.”

He paused. “A book?”

“You think? What if it’s a poem?”

“Maybe a letter?”

“It’s possible.” 

You shared a look. His mother’s taxi barely managed to leave your sight before you and your boyfriend (you could never get enough of calling him that) were dashing up the stairs to solve the mystery.

True enough, there was a white envelope on the table.

“Maybe it’s pocket money,” you guessed as you picked the envelope up. “For hosting her or something.”

“If it is, you should give it to me,” he told you and you weren’t entirely sure he was joking. “There’s a hole in my bank account because of you.”

“You’re never letting that go, are you?” you sighed and opened the envelope. You were pleasantly surprised to find out you had been right – a handful of cash had been stashed into the envelope, probably enough to cover your rent for the month.

Barely bothering to hide his smirk, Joshua extended a palm. You gave him a look. Stared at him. Then sighed and placed the cash in his hand. He smiled bright and put it away in his pocket.

But the cash wasn’t all. There was a folded piece of paper. A letter.

You opened it, half-expecting a scolding or a motherly warning. But this letter – as short as it was sweet – exceeded all expectations.

Sweethearts

I hope you know I’m not unwise. I know all about your little scheme – neither of you are very good actors. Joshua, you should know better than to lie to your mother. 

But it was entertaining and I am glad to have given you some incentive to finally take the proper steps and start dating. You make a cute couple when you’re not acting. 

Can’t wait to see you two again soon

Your jaw dropped. 

“What does it say?” Joshua wondered, leaning over your shoulder to read. He let out a scoff soon afterwards. “She can be so mean.”

“She knew this whole time?” you cried out.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I should’ve known. It was too easy.”

“I mean, I thought she was suspicious of us, but this?”

“Do we really suck at acting this much?”

“Whatever,” you sighed and put the letter down. “I’m going to sleep. I can’t handle an existential crisis right now.”

“Right, let’s go sleep,” Joshua agreed, leading you away from the kitchen with a gentle tug on your arm. 

It was only when you were stood in front of the two bedroom doors, nearly identical and stood side by side, that you paused and a realisation hit. 

Was it appropriate to share a bed anymore? Surely Joshua would want to go back to his own room now that it was free again? 

You almost groaned out loud: you had thought the doubts and useless problems would cease after the confession. Everything was good and great and wonderful, so why were the stupid worries back?

Having probably reached the same conclusion, Joshua seemed just as stumped. He stared at his bedroom door for a while and you were certain he’d go to sleep in his own bed for the night, ending your most favourite part of newfound domestic bliss.

“I paid for the bed,” he suddenly said with a laugh and gently pushed you towards your room, following closely after. “You’re not getting rid of me now, sweetheart.”

“So you’re just inviting yourself into my room now?” you joked, nudging his side before letting yourself fall onto the bed. 

He laid down next to you, resting his head on his arm after rolling to his side to face you. He grinned. “It’s our room now.”

You loved the sound of that and you were certain he could see it on your face.

“So what will we do with your room?”

Joshua pondered for a moment. “We could turn it into a guest room. something tells me mom’s going to want to visit again soon.”

You paled at the mention of her. “I don’t think I can ever look her in the eyes again.”

“Me neither,” he sighed and leaned over to hide his face in the crook of your neck. “Let’s not think about it any more.”

“You’re the one that brought her up!” You laughed.

“Let’s just go to sleep,” he said. “I love you.”

The butterflies went crazy. You couldn’t and wouldn’t fight the smile that appeared on your face. “I love you too.”

[katsu28]

lucky charm

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: lando finds comfort in your presence as doubt starts to creep in before a race (2k)

warnings: minimal swearing

a/n: hi i know i'm still super new here and i'm not even sure if i'm actually going to start writing rpf but i think about this motherfucker 24/7 now and this came to me in a dream <3 let's ignore the actual way he got his ring necklace okay? okay!

“No one saw you come in, right?” 

Lando let the door close behind him gently, a total opposite to the quickest few steps you’d ever seen him take across the small driver’s room, and he leaned over to kiss you, hard. 

You let out a squeak of surprise at the force of it, but had no hesitation in kissing him back as soon as your body caught up with your brain, arms looping around his neck to bring him down and closer to you.

Lando’s knees hit the cushions on either side of you, hands doing the same on the leather backrest, clumsy as all hell but twice as determined not to let his mouth leave yours. 

Your fingers knocked the McLaren cap right off his head as they moved into his hair, clutching at his chocolate curls on instinct like you’d done so many times before. But never here, never before one of Lando’s races, and certainly never at the risk of being caught by anyone in the facility at any given moment. 

It didn’t seem to matter to Lando, though, with the way he was kissing you like he was parched and you were the only thing that could quench his thirst. 

But given the rather frantic series of texts you’d received from him that got you here in the first place, you weren’t at all too surprised. You knew how nervous Lando got before races, and if there was something you could do, you’d never hesitate to be there for him. Especially since you were able to make it to this one. 

“Yeah,” He mumbled between kisses, panting against your lips. Somehow he’d managed to switch positions so he was the one on the sofa now and you were sitting on his lap, straddling his hips as you continued your rather sloppy makeout session. “Yeah, yeah, we’re good. ‘M sneaky like that.” 

“Had a lot of practice at this, have you?” 

“No!” It was almost comical how fast he pulled away from you to blurt out his answer. “No, not at all. I don’t know why I said that, I—” 

“I was just kidding, bub.” You chuckled, smoothing the pad of your thumb across his kiss-swollen bottom lip fondly. Lando grinned sheepishly, giving your waist a playful little pinch. You’d never get over the way he looked at you, like you were the only other person to exist in the world—especially when he was under you like this, and especially with those eyes. His baby cow eyes, you always called them. 

Even so, Lando was extremely tense, you could tell. He tended to get very in his head before races, probably why he asked you to come meet him so close to the green flag, to help him quell his nerves a little. He always said you helped him more than anything else ever could. 

“I have something for you.” You said softly. 

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” He leaned back against the cushion, happily accepting the chaste kiss you pressed to his lips before you bounced off his lap and over to where your bag was sitting. 

You rummaged around in it for a few moments until you found what you were looking for, a triumphant grin on your face as you made your way back over to an intrigued Lando. This time you settled next to him, throwing your legs across his lap. His hand came to rest on your knee immediately. 

“Open it.” You urged, pressing the small black bag into his waiting palm. He undid the drawstring carefully, beaming even before he got a look at what was inside. That smile only grew bigger as he poured the contents of the bag into his hand. 

A thin silver chain, joined together at the ends with two interlocking rings, sleek and silver just like the rest of the necklace. Upon closer inspection, he saw numbers etched into the inside of each one. One of them, Lando recognized instantly as the date of your anniversary. The other looked like a set of coordinates, but he wasn’t too great at geography, so he looked to you for an explanation. 

“The place we first met.” 

“You looked up the coordinates of that tiny little restaurant? Nerd.” He chuckled, artfully dodging the swat you aimed his way at his teasing remark.

“It could be, like, your new lucky charm or something.” You shrugged, watching him turn the rings around carefully between his fingers. 

Lando glanced up, bumping your shoulder with his gently. “I’ve already got one.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It’s you.” 

“Me?” 

“I like knowing you’re watching me. Even though I can’t see you, or even if you’re not here, knowing I’ve got you cheering me on from wherever you are helps. I think it makes me a better driver.” 

“Lan, you’re already a great driver.. You don’t need me for you to know that.” 

“I know. I just—it keeps me focused. To know you’re there.” He said softly, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “And now with this, I can have a piece of you with me whenever. Here, help me put it on.” 

“You can’t wear it under your suit, Lando, even I know that.”

“Alright, well, I’ll figure it out later. C’mon, put it on me.” Lando leaned forward, giving you space to bring the chain up over his head and around his neck. He even managed to sneak in another kiss whilst you followed the silver down to where the rings rested just below his collarbones. Your fingers stroked at the warm skin there, the cold of the metal contrasting.

“It looks good on you.” 

Lando melted like a popsicle on a hot summer day under your touch, smiling so big at you that you could hardly believe this was the same boy who had other drivers trembling in their fireproofs. He hoisted you back into his lap effortlessly, nosing at your pulse point a bit before smacking a kiss to your cheek when you wrapped your arm around his shoulders. “You look good on me.” 

“That was so bad. Like, really bad. I get why they call you Lando Norizz now.” 

“What?! Bad? That was so fucking smooth!” He huffed, going from looking completely smitten to entirely offended. “And I happen to have lots of rizz, thank you very much. I practically ooze rizz, love.” 

“I take it back.” You replied solemnly, patting Lando’s cheek. “That was worse.” 

“You’re so mean to me. I don’t know why I even put up with this harassment!” 

“Always so dramatic, you.” 

“I’ve got to be! How else would I be able to withstand this abuse?” 

You scoffed playfully and moved to climb off him, opting to keep a safe enough distance away so you wouldn’t be tempted to kiss him stupid. Then he’d really be late. “Don’t you have a race to prepare for, driver boy?” 

“I am,” He said earnestly, tucking his hands behind his head. You arched a skeptical brow, hands propped on your hips. 

“By hiding out in here with me?” 

“You know what they say—calm the mind, and the body will follow.” 

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that.” 

“Well maybe people should start!” 

You huffed out an amused chuckle, crossing your arms. “Are you ready?” 

A sudden silence  blanketed the tiny room, Lando’s non response giving you all you needed to know. 

He reached out for you with a pout that you’d never been quite able to resist, fingers beckoning you back over longingly, like you were too far away for his liking. You gave in almost immediately despite previously wanting to give him space, trudging over with an overexaggerated roll of your eyes and letting yourself be pulled back onto his lap yet again. 

“I’ll be alright.” He answered finally, taking your hand in his. He fiddled with your fingers, tracing along each digit languidly and then circling his thumb over your palm—once, twice, a third time. 

This, something you’d learned quite early on in your relationship with Lando, was one of his many versions of self-soothing. The repetition of his actions proved rather calming to him, and it certainly helped that he got to feel your skin against his. 

His brows drew together in thought, furrowed and tense until you pushed your thumb into the wrinkle between them, smoothing out the scrunch. He wrapped his fingers around your wrist loosely. 

“You’re gonna do great, you know.” You insisted. 

He offered you as good of a smile as he could muster. “Yeah. I know.”  

“You’re gonna do your best, and whatever happens, you’ve got so many people who’ll be proud of you no matter what.”

“I don’t know if it’s enough.” Lando blurted, scratching at a patch on his suit. “I’ve been racing for years, and I still have no wins to show for it. It’s not fair to my team, it’s not fair to the fans. It’s not fair to you. You shouldn’t have to have a boyfriend who can’t fucking drive for shit.” 

“Lando, I’m not with you because of your job.” You said shortly, pressing your lips into a thin, unamused line. “And quite frankly, I feel hurt that you could even think I was.” 

Lando was quick to soothe, shaking his head frantically. He took both your hands in his, squeezing. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry, it’s just—I get in my head a lot. And I start to overthink, and shit comes out of my mouth that I don’t mean. I know you’re not like that, I do. I’m sorry.” 

You softened, sighing. “You could never win a race, ever, and I'd still love you all the same.”

He snorted. “Well, I’d like to win one at some point.” 

“What I meant was, I can’t speak for everyone else, but my pride for you has nothing to do with how well you do on the track, my love.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I’m proud of you because you’re you. You’re kind and you work hard, and you try your best at everything you do. Even if the outcome isn’t what you expected, you keep at it. You keep going. That’s one of the reasons why I love you, that’s why I’m so proud of you.” 

“I’m stupid.” He groaned, tipping his head back against the couch cushions. You simply made a noise of agreement. “You’re too good to me. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now, you really need to go back to the garage. I’m sure Oscar’s sent out a search party for you at this point.” You said firmly, giving his chest a sharp poke. Lando groaned again but made to get up, shifting your legs off him so he could climb to his feet. 

“Fine. Just kick me out of my own room, why don’t you?” He huffed dramatically, swiping his hat off the floor and jamming it back over his hair. You aimed a fake kick towards him, stifling a giggle when he caught your foot and pretended to undo your laces. “Kiss?” 

“You need to leave, Lando,” You whined, batting him away gently. “I refuse to be the reason you’re late.” 

“One more. Just one more for good luck and I promise I’ll leave.” He insisted, expression pleading. You grumbled something unintelligible, reaching up begrudgingly to bring him down for one last kiss. 

Lando smiled against your lips, snaking a hand around the back of your neck to keep you in place a few beats longer than you intended. You practically had to unstick yourself from him, giving him a little shove towards the door so he’d actually leave. 

Immediately, he whirled around. “Wait, wait—”

“Lando! Go!” 

“No, no, hold on, it’s important.” He slipped his newfound chain over his head, rubbing his thumb over both rings before holding it out towards you. “Keep this safe for me?” He asked earnestly, pressing the necklace into your hands. “Can’t have my lucky charm getting lost already, can I?” 

“Give ‘em hell, number four.” You smiled, donning the necklace yourself. He beamed, blowing you a kiss as he backpedaled down the hall. "Number four on the track, number one in my heart!"

You could hear his infectious laughter echoing even as he retreated around the corner.

Lando would be fine. And if he wasn’t, he’d bounce back, like he always did. And you’d be there to support him every step of the way, like you always were. 

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[shomatoriashi]

09/01/24; 04:40pm

{ 18+ headcanons / drabbles }

[ when they’re too busy with work, but you’re needy for them ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

it was the middle of the night when you woke up with a start, eyes going blurry as you blindly reached out to the opposite side of the bed-

only to realize that the sheets were cold to touch.

your sleepiness dissolves in an instant, with a soft yawn coming from your parted lips as you carefully get out of bed. a shiver courses through you upon feeling the cold marble against your feet, but you ignore such icy sensations.

opening the door out of the master bedroom, you wrap your arms around your chest, trying to keep in as much warmth that you could manage while making your way towards sylus’s office. there was a bit of a drag in your steps, your slow movements serving as sole evidence of your exhaustion-

but you would not sleep without sylus by your side.

finally reaching his office, you give the rich, oak door a series of knock, alerting your lover of your presence before inviting yourself inside. yet the moment you saw sylus settled on the expensive leather couch, you could feel your mouth turn dry.

he was dressed in a suit colored in ebony and crimson, the colors matching his aesthetic as his rufescent eyes meet with your gaze. an achingly soft smile graces his features, and you felt a pang of heat running down your spine at the mere sight of him.

gripping at the sheer material of your nightgown, your breathing comes out in uneven breaths. your eyes darken, mirroring your desires for him before asking, “sylus, won’t you join me in bed? it’s getting late.”

sylus’s eyes flash, giving you a momentary glimpse of lust while letting out a string of curses. “sweetheart, as much as i’d like to join you and keep you warm while in bed, i can’t. i’ve got to get these orders ready for my client.”

you bite down on your bottom lip, already feeling the moisture collecting from between your legs. not daring to look away from him, you slowly lock the door to his office, earning a raised brow from the onychinus leader.

you remain silent, stepping out of your ruined panties as you allow the flimsy material to fall to the ground. hunger was seen in sylus’s gaze the moment you shed your body free of your nightgown, allowing it to flutter to the floor before sauntering towards your lover.

sylus wastes no time pulling you closer to him, allowing your soaked cunt to pulsate against his thighs as you gently rode him, allowing your sticky sweet arousal to coat his suit.

“thats it, babygirl. keep on riding me, just like that. let me work for a little while longer, then i’ll take care of you.”

your gasps end up filling at the room, with sylus steadily losing interest in cleaning the weapons the moment you began bouncing up and down his thigh. his eyes had long since lost its crimson shade, becoming so dilated and filled with desire for you that he could feel his sanity snap.

needless to say, when sylus tosses the gun back on the table before unbuckling his pants, freeing his erection as he harshly grips at your thighs before impaling your slick heat against his cock, you lost all of your senses. being so filled with him after riding his thighs created such a hedonistic friction that you quickly became addicted to, never once stopping as you rode him with a desperation.

meanwhile, as luke and kieran were ready to deliver the next round of weapons, they froze upon seeing the office door locked as sounds of your breathy moans and sylus’s grunts were heard coming from behind the door. both twins end up looking at each other, their flustered expression hidden beneath their masks as they slowly backed away from the door.

it was best not to disturb their boss and his queen while in the middle of their trysts, a lesson that they were all too familiar with.

it was early in the morning at akso hospital, and as the staff were prepared to switch out with their coworkers for the upcoming shift, they would remain blissfully unaware of how a certain cardiac surgeon was still tied up and locked in his office.

zayne tries to hide back his groans, having to force himself to bite down on his fist the moment you came into his office. he had simply been going over some patient profiles when you came into his office with an almost dazed expression on your face.

he was filled with concern for you, already taking off his glasses while shoving his patient files to the side. one moment, he was filled with guilt for neglecting you for a few days due to how he wasn’t coming home as much-

and the next, zayne found himself settling back against his chair, with you remaining hidden beneath his desk as his cock was in your mouth. he was already half-erect the moment you began kissing his inner thighs, so it came as no surprise when he became even harder when you unzipped his pants and freed his cock from the confines of his boxers.

“i’m not mad at you.” you continue speaking to him, already stroking his cock in a loving manner before licking away the beads of precum that leaked from his mushroom tip. “i know you’re working so hard to save so many lives, but i wish to spoil you, too.”

zayne’s eyes were screwed shut the moment you place your hot mouth against his cock, feeling your tongue tracing at his veins while letting out a gasp of your name. his large hands automatically go into your hair, gently moving your head back and forth over his cock.

you hummed in pleasure, feeling the familiar twitch within your mouth. you had every intention to take him in as far as you could, yet zayne doesn’t even give you a chance to taste his cum when he harshly pulls your mouth away from his cock.

with a strength you didn’t think zayne was even capable of, you feel your lover shove aside the items on his desk before placing you on it. not even looking down at you, he slides off your soaked panties before shoving it into the pockets of his pants. gripping at your thighs, he spreads your legs apart before sheathing himself inside of you in one swift thrust.

“i need to make up for lost time… for neglecting you…” with heavy pants of your name, zayne grips at your leg before tossing it over his shoulder, making your eyes roll to the back of your head the moment he reaches oh so deeper inside of you all while kissing at your ankles.

and when your moans were heard echoing across the department, no one dared to question it.

“you’re such a brat.”

xavier was heard hissing at you, trying to keep his voice even as he was on the phone with one of the higher ups at the hunters association. here he was, trying to gather information for his mission next week while you were trying to free his cock from the confines of his pants.

“i can’t help it. you’re telling me you’re going to be gone for two weeks, and you expect me to behave?” you scoff, finally shoving down his pants to reveal his half-hardened cock. a cheshire cat grin paints your pretty features as you made quick work of stroking him to full hardness.

xavier lets out a hiss of your name, but has to swallow his moans when a stern voice was heard coming from his phone. “xavier, are you ready to receive details for this mission?”

“yes sir…!” a low gasp escapes from xavier’s lips the moment you place your lips on his tip, giving it a light suck. it takes xavier a herculean effort not to moan into the phone, feeling your hands and hot mouth fully sending him into an almost painful erection.

he catches bits and pieces of information, but was solely focused on the way your mouth and tongue traces at every inch of his cock. his breathing becomes heavier, feeling his impending climax approaching when you suddenly removed your lips away from him. the young hunter was all too eager to shove your face back against his cock when you slowly began to undress in front of him-

and dammit to hell, you just had to wear that lacy set beneath your clothes!

your soft giggle echoes throughout the room, and as you straddle him, he saw the way you moved the material of your lace panties to the side, ready to mount yourself on his cock.

“you’ve got it sir, i’ll be there next week.” luckily, xavier had already ended the call the moment you sheath his cock inside of your wet pussy, the squelching sounds of you riding his cock echoing throughout the living room. with a growl of your name, xavier grabs a hold of your waist before proceeding to bounce you up and down his cock at an almost inhuman speed.

“is this what you want? for me to ruin you completely that you won’t be able to walk until i return?”

your mewls and eager nods were all that he needed to continue pounding mercilessly into you, eyes already going dilated as he had every intention of claiming you.

“i’m going to make sure that my cock is forever imprinted against your sweet little heat… so be prepared for it, little brat…” he finishes his statement with a particularly hard thrust, making you see stars as you had every intention to ride him for as long as you could manage.

rafayel had long forgotten about his commissioned painting the moment you began to eagerly bounce up and down his cock. the moment he felt your slickness wrapping so tightly around him was when he lost all train of thought.

you had come home from work late in the evening and wished to greet rafayel. however, when you saw the portrait he was working on, you began to feel envious of the gorgeous girl seen painted on the canvas. he tried to explain to you that a governor had commissioned him to paint a portrait of his daughter for her 23rd birthday, but you didn’t wish to hear it.

and now, he found that he could care less about finishing such a portrait with you bouncing up and down so eagerly against his cock. filled with his own desperation for you, rafayel tries to meet your downward thrusts with his own upward ones, panting as he begins to lose his breath.

being so captivated and drunk off of you, the young artist could feel a whimper being ripped from the confines of his throat when you began kissing him, swallowing his grunts and moans of your name. as you continued to bounce up and down his cock, he could feel the curve of your breasts and your hardened nipples against his own chest.

“am i prettier than her?” you ask in a breathless whisper, purposefully squeezing your cunt over his pulsating dick. it was no competition in rafayel’s eyes. “o-of course you are- fuck! you’re the prettiest girl in the entire universe. you’re my fucking princess.”

a pleased hum was heard coming from you when you lay back against his lap, moving your hips up and down his cock at this brand new angle that had the artist seeing stars. “f-fuck… princess… you’re squeezing me so tight! l-like you want to milk me dry.”

“hehe, that’s the plan…” feeling your legs and cunt tightening so sweetly around him makes rafayel gasp, stilling his hips before shooting ropes of his seed deep inside of you. with you remaining laid back, your back against his thighs, you allowed your release to wash over you, earning a grunt from rafayel.

as your honeyed arousal further wets his softening cock, your lover leans over to press a searing kiss against your lips all while returning your body closer to him. his tongue fights with yours for dominance, and he lets out a pleased hum the moment you yield for him.

when the need for air proved to be too much, rafayel was the first to pull away from you, giving you a gentle smile before asking, “did our copulation manage to ease you of your envy?”

you give him a thoughtful expression, placing your pointer finger against your lips before smirking at him. his eyes end up going wide when you began to bounce up and down his limp cock, stroking it back to full hardness with a determination seen deep within your eyes.

“not quite yet, rafe… i’m going to need this to go on the whole night to make me convinced that i am the only woman for you.”

and with one final groan of your name, rafayel knew better than to deny you of your needs.

end notes: i am still soooo thirsty for my lads men, so have this post 🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Devil's Snare

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

𝑨𝒍𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍'𝒔 𝑺𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒔. 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒐𝒙𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒖𝒎 𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔.

Description: Y/N is apprehensive when she is assigned the post of Aemond Targaryen's handmaiden. She expects him to be cold and cruel, and is surprised when he is actually kindle and gentle to her. All the while Aemond finds himself falling for his shy and skittish handmaiden.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Disclaimer: this is incredibly self-indulgent. I love Aemond and wanted to focus in on the softer sides of his character. I've planned 3 parts to this series but who knows.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of canon typical misogyny, female reader (sorry! This just makes it easier for the plot), handmaiden reader, slow-burn, lengthy?, potentially ooc Aemond but Ewan Mitchell did say Aemond just needed someone to love him.

Y/N was filled with trepidation as she approached the royal quarters, her movements slow as she fruitlessly tried to delay the inevitable. She supposed she should be grateful for her new appointment as Prince Aemond's handmaiden. But she found she'd much rather have continued on in the lower chambers of the keep. Alas, the matron had chosen her for the position, recently opened when the prince's previous handmaiden was mysteriously dismissed. Prince Aemond was known by many denominations, whispered rumours spreading like wildfire throughout the Red Keep. The One-eyed Prince. The fierce dragon rider who'd claimed the largest dragon in existence. The cold second son with a particular proclivity for swordsmanship. None of these served to assuage Y/N's fears for her new role. She was grateful, at least, that it was not Prince Aegon. She'd heard terrible rumours of his behaviour towards female servants. She'd heard nothing of the like about his brother.

The matron had told Y/N not to worry, that Prince Aemond barely acknowledged servants at all. And surely she was the perfect choice, with her excellent skills in needlepoint and, more significantly, her quiet and timid disposition which enabled her to move like a shadow. Y/N tried to even out her breathing and calm her wildly beating heart as she reached the door of Prince Aemond's chambers. Upon knocking and hearing no reply she entered anyway to find the Prince was not within, to her great relief. If she was particularly fortunate she might complete all of her tasks before he returned and avoid an interaction altogether. Quickly setting to work, she began to tidy and clean. Though Prince Aemond's quarters were already unexpectedly neat. Y/N considered this was perhaps a reflection of the controlled demeanour he always seemed to carry whenever she had spotted him in the Keep.

Turning her attentions towards making the bed she noticed a thin strap of leather strewn across it. Picking it up, upon closer inspection she recognised it to be Prince Aemond's eyepatch. Y/N frowned as she realised the strap was broken. She knew Aemond always wore it to cover the gaping wound that still remained from when he'd lost his eye in a brawl with his nephew. Y/N had once passed a group of handmaidens whispering by a stairwell about how the Prince purposefully wore the eye patch so as not to upset the ladies of the court, and hearing them erupt into giggles. She had found herself frowning at their laughter, thinking to herself that it was thoughtful of the Prince, chivalrous even.

The smooth feel of the leather in her hand brought Y/N back to the present, she was prone to losing herself in thought, and she came to the decision that she would mend it for him. Y/N knew the importance the eye patch held for him, indeed she was surprised he had left his chambers without it. Pocketing it, she quickly rearranged the Prince's bed sheets and, thinking the room sufficiently tidy, she exited the Prince's chambers to find her sewing kit.

Y/N had dedicated more time to mending Prince Aemond's eyepatch than was truly necessary, determined to make the stitches as neat as possible. It would be worn by a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms after all. Returning to the Prince's chambers that evening to stoke the fire and light candles, she began to fear her actions had been rash and presumptuous. Perhaps Prince Aemond would be angry with her for taking something so important from his room without his permission. Perhaps he did not feel a need for it any longer and she would simply be cementing the idea that he did if she presented the eye patch to him. By the time she reached his chambers she was wracked with nerves from reviewing in her mind every possible reaction the Prince might have to her actions, and a sickening feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. She was once again relieved to find the Prince was not in his chambers. Though her relief was short lived, for no sooner had she lit the candles and begun lighting a fire than the the very object of her thoughts strode into the room. He halted briefly upon seeing her, but quickly moved to sit in a nearby armchair, seemingly ignoring her presence. The matron may have been right then, Y/N had worried for nothing.

But her heart dropped as she realised he was, in fact, wearing an eye patch. She had been stupid to think he should only have the one and now cursed herself for being so foolish. Y/N gnawed on her bottom lip with worry. Perhaps the Prince would be angered with her taking his belongings from his room without his permission. Or maybe he had meant to throw it away and would think her silly for presuming otherwise. Nonetheless, she determined that she would return what belonged to him. Finishing stoking the fire she rose from her knees and dusted off her skirts, before slowly inching her way over to the Prince. It was only when she stood directly in front of him that he raised his one good eye to meet hers, an eyebrow quirked in curiosity. Y/N wrung her hands nervously, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. She hardly knew what to say, and could not help stuttering as she spoke. "My Prince, I must apologise to you." Aemond seemed momentarily surprised by this, before his features settled back into a mask of indifference, though he leant forward at her words, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin on his knuckles. "Must you now?"

Y/N swallowed down thickly, before nodding. "I couldn't help but notice the broken eye patch upon the bed as I attended my duties this morning, and I took it to mend it. I realise now this was presumptions of me, but I had only thought to be helpful as I know you always wear it." Y/N's eyes widened as she realised her words might suggest she believed he should cover his wound. Holding her hands palm up in a supplicatory manor, her words spilled out quicker and even less elegant than before. "Not that I believe you need to wear the patch. I just thought it must be important to you. Oh I am making a mess of my words. Here, My Prince." She bowed her head and tentatively held the mended eye patch out to him, not daring to look in his direction. After a moment a hand came into her line of vision as Prince Aemond slowly took the patch from her, his much larger hand closing over hers briefly.

Y/n could barely stand the Prince's silence. If the rumours were to be believed, his silent composure concealed its own danger. And, being too fearful to look up at his face, she had no idea of his reaction to her offering. "What is your name?" Y/N's eyes snapped up to meet Aemond's good eye. She had not expected his question, spoken in such a measured tone, having anticipated his ire instead. "Y/N my Prince." Prince Aemond only hummed in response before getting to his feet, prompting Y/N to take several small steps backwards in order to maintain a respectable distance. Y/N averted her eyes to the floor, but nevertheless still felt his gaze upon her, her cheeks heating with embarrassment. "I thank you for your thoughtful actions Y/N. That will be all." She didn't have to be told twice, quickly curtsying to him and rushing hurriedly from the room.

Aemond frowned as the handmaiden fled from him, as if he had struck her rather than offered her his thanks. But she did seem a rather skittish little thing. He had never seen this particular handmaiden before, his mother having dismissed the previous one for reasons he did not care to know. As he'd entered his chambers he'd startled for a moment, taking in her features which he found decidedly pretty. He quickly dispelled himself of that thought and opted to ignore her presence, having come to understand it made the servants less nervous in his presence and more efficient. Taking a seat close to the fire the girl was stoking, he could not help keeping his eye trained upon her in interest as he observed a range of emotions crossing her face. He had not expected her to approach him then, almost admiring her boldness before she quickly turned into a stuttering mess, and it was only with a concerted effort that he understood her at all. Yet he found himself moved as he disentangled the reason for her apology from her frantic speech.

Looking down at his now mended eyepatch he could not help but admire her handiwork, the stitches were so neat and close together that you could hardly tell it had ever required mending. Aemond had carelessly strewn the broken eye patch on his bed that morning, he had many others in case of such incidents and had not thought of it since. But at the sight of it in her proferred hand, Aemond became aware of a strange feeling in his chest. He had hardened himself following the events at Driftmark that had lost him his eye, an act of violence against him which had never been avenged. He still felt the slight keenly for his nephew had never been punished for it. Aemond had not since felt such genuine kindness directed towards him, such care for this most essential part of him, even by his own family, with the exception of his gentle sister Helaena. His lost eye had ever been a painful subject to avoid. It was only a small matter really, the mending of an eye patch, but it carried a far greater significance for Aemond, who found himself charmed by this particular handmaiden's thoughtfulness towards him.

Y/N burned with embarrassment as she fled from the Prince's chambers. His reaction was admittedly better than she could have hoped for, but she'd still managed to make a complete fool of herself in this, their first meeting. She felt she could not have given a worse impression of her capability as his handmaiden and overstepped boundaries. Over the next few days she endeavoured to move quickly as she completed her tasks in the hopes that she would avoid the Prince entirely. She successfully managed to do so for two consecutive days by following the same schedule, only entering his room at hours she knew he would be otherwise preoccupied.

On the third day Y/N entered Prince Aemond's chambers, she was startled to see the Prince himself sitting in his armchair. The morning sunlight pouring through the windows cast his face in a soft glow that accentuated his features, which were admittedly beautiful. He was lazily playing with a coin, weaving it between his fingers. When she realised she'd been staring at his hands for an extended period of time she briefly raised her eyes to his face to see his mouth upturned in a slight smirk, and she quickly shifted her focus to completing her tasks. She moved quietly and efficiently throughout the room, trying with great difficulty to avoid looking in the Prince's direction, to pretend he was not there at all.

It would not do for her to turn back into a jittery, stumbling mess and prove what he must already have thought, that she was completely incompetent and unsuited to her position. Removing a tray of used cups and goblets from a side table, Y/N turned to take them back to the kitchens. Walking past Prince Aemond, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that he was wearing the eye patch she had mended for him and halted her moments to confirm she was correct. The Prince was looking at her almost expectantly, as if he'd been waiting for her to notice. With a barely perceptible nod of her head, she hastily left the room.

Aemond had hoped that exclusively wearing the eye patch his handmaiden had mended would assure her he was not angry with her for her actions. And yet he did not see her for the two days following their meeting, and Aemond realised she must have taken account of his movements to avoid being in his chambers at the same time, the clever minx. So on the third day he resolved to put an end to this ridiculous game of cat and mouse. Though it was his habit to rise early and leave for the training yard, he settled himself in his favoured arm chair to await the maiden's arrival. A satisfied smirk ghosted onto his face as she entered, clearly startled to find him still within his chambers and Aemond noted how she'd stared at his hands for several moments before turning to attend to her duties.

His brows furrowed in frustration as he watched her mill about the room, steadfastly ignoring him and avoiding looking in his direction entirely. He did not wish for her to be afraid of him. It was only when she was exiting his chambers that she glanced at him again and, finally, seemed to notice the eye patch he was wearing as she stared at it, rooted to the spot. A light dusting of pink rose to her cheeks before she nodded and swiftly departed, and Aemond assumed she had now realised he was not displeased with her. The moment she disappeared from his view, Aemond found himself wanting to see her blush again.

Y/N was still wary in Aemond's presence, a consequence of her own shy disposition and acute sense of awareness in the difference in their stations. However, she was no longer afraid of him, so to speak, and stopped trying to avoid being in the same room with him, simply finding a rhythm of getting on with her tasks whether he was there or not. He did not address her often, but thanked her each time she completed her survey of his room and turned to leave. His voice was smooth and quiet and Y/N noted that he was much more soft-spoken than his loud and overbearing brother. Prince Aemond clearly did not feel the need to shout to make his presence felt. Y/N had passed two weeks in her new post before there was any shift in the dynamic the Prince and his handmaiden had developed.

Y/N had finished lighting all of the candles in the Prince's chamber and had started collecting empty cups strewn about the various surfaces in the room when she spotted the eight legged monstrosity, prompting her to let out a high pitched shriek and drop the tray she'd been holding, sending goblets crashing to the stone floor. She had always been terrified of spiders, begging the other handmaidens to deal with them when she had worked in the lower chambers of the Keep. But it was just her now, and her heart beat wildly as she realised she would have no choice but to remove it from the Prince's room. She kept her eyes on the creature with a sickening sense of dread as it crawled along the length of the side table she'd been cleaning. But she heard Prince Aemond speak behind her, his tone somewhat demanding "What is the matter?"

Y/N tried to keep her tone even as she answered, but even she could hear the slight hysteria tinging her voice and knew he would not be fooled. "Simply a spider, My Prince. I have never been fond of them. I apologise for disturbing you with my outburst and I will deal with the creature and the mess forthwith." Taking a deep breath to steel herself for what she was about to do, she took a tentative step towards where the spider was still crawling, before letting out a small squeek of surprise as warm hands enveloped her waist and gently moved her to the side. She had not heard the Prince's footsteps, he moved so quietly. Wordlessly he scooped the spider into a goblet she'd dropped and walked to his balcony, opening up the doors to set it loose. By the time he'd returned, shutting the doors to block out the crisp night air, Y/N had come to her senses and cleared up the mess she'd made, tray back in hand. She felt immensely grateful to the Prince for stepping in as he had, clearly having sensed her distress, but she could not help feeling somewhat ashamed of her silliness.

Looking up from the tray she'd been holding as his boots came into her line of sight, she attempted to channel her sincere gratitude into her voice "Thank you, My Prince. I am most grateful for your kindness in stepping in, and I assure you it will not happen again." She watched as a strange look passed over Prince Aemond's features, before he leant his head down towards hers, his long platinum hair brushing against her shoulder with their proximity. "Spiders only look frightening little one, they will not harm you." There was a glint in his eye that hinted at a hidden meaning to his words, though Y/N could not understand what it was. Straightening up, Aemond lightly waved a hand in dismissal. "That will be all for this evening Y/N." Still slightly dazed from their former proximity, where she'd been close enough to smell his scent of leather, musk and pine, Y/N simply nodded before turning from him and speeding back to the servant's quarters. She felt the Prince's stare on her back until the door concealed her from his view.

Aemond had reread the same page at least thrice. He kept having to pull his eyes from his handmaiden's form as he watched her move about his chambers. She'd sparked his interest from their first meeting and though they interacted little, he consistently found himself watching her movements, though he could not tell why. Resuming his focus on his book, a shrill shriek had his eyes snapping back up to his handmaiden. Concerned she had hurt herself, perhaps cut her hand on one of the cups that had tumbled to the floor, his voice came out sharper than he'd intended in his urgency. "What is the matter?" He felt relief wash over him to learn of the reason for her outburst, and a small degree of amusement at the cause being but a little spider. This quickly diminished when he observed her genuine fear as she cowered away from the creature. She looked as if she were headed for battle rather than contending with a spider.

Rising from his seated position he quietly moved over to her, taking hold of her waist to move her aside and remove the spider himself. Returning to her side, he'd not expected the earnestness in her gaze as she thanked him. You'd have thought he saved her from Vhagar instead of a mere spider. But it was her reference to his 'kindness' that had sent his mind spinning. Kind was not a word oft associated with Aemond Targaryen, he was well aware of his reputation within the Red Keep. He felt that same strange sensation in his chest he'd noticed once before, when she'd handed him his mended eye patch. As warmth spread throughout his chest he realised he was endeared to have someone feel so positively towards him, to look to him for protection, to think him kind when this seemed laughable in conjunction with his somewhat fearsome appearance.

With a somewhat cocky smile, Aemond moved closer to the handmaiden, leaning his face close to hers. "Spiders only look frightening little one, they will not harm you." He'd hoped to subtly convey to her that he too held no danger for her, that she had no need of being so skittish around him. But he could see from the look of confusion that crossed her dainty features she had not understood his meaning fully. He did not wish to increase her level of discomfort around him so quickly straightened and offered her his dismissal. He tried not to address the sting of hurt he felt as she once again rushed away from him.

After Prince Aemond had gallantly saved her from the spider, Y/N had begun to feel more and more comfortable with him. He had not mocked her or made her feel silly for her actions, indeed he had not mentioned the incident at all. She realised that he had done nothing but try to make her feel comfortable around him and she had responded by treating him almost as if he were a snake about to strike at any moment. So she resolved to make a greater effort not to appear so frightened in his presence, her shyness be damned. She started out small at first, actually greeting him as she entered his chambers, though he seemed surprised she had even addressed him at all. Eventually she even began to ask after his day as she stoked the fire in his chambers and bid him goodnight for the evening. The Prince seemed to welcome her small attempts at conversation and readily responded, sometimes with quite extensive accounts of the events of the day.

Several days followed where their schedules did not align and Prince Aemond was absent every time Y/N entered his chambers. She tried to suppress a bizarre spark of dissapointment at this, not knowing when she had started to actually look forward to their short interactions. Dusting his bookshelf, she ran her hands over the ornate spines of the books. Laying down her duster as she carefully pulled one out to gaze at it, grazing her hand softly over the cover. "You take an interest in the Targaryen histories?" She was startled out of her reveries by Prince Aemond's question, not having heard his voice in a few days. Quickly replacing the book where it belonged she curtsied to him "I apologise My Prince, I should not have..."

The Prince walked over to her, his hair lightly swaying in tandem with his shoulders, until he was close enough to brush his arm against hers when he took the book back down from the shelf. "You are welcome to borrow a few volumes should they interest you." It was such a generous offer that Y/N was saddened to have to reject it. "Thank you My Prince, but I cannot read." Aemond seemed surprised for a moment before he cleared his throat and pulled his hands behind his back, removing the book from her line of vision. The Prince's voice was soft when he next spoke "Is it something you would like to learn?" Y/N's eyes snapped up to meet Aemond's, though she had to crane her neck to do so with him standing so close. Excitement had shot through her at a possibility she'd often longed for, she'd never had the opportunity to learn before. It was not considered necessary for her line of work.

But doubt began to fill her mind. Did the Prince mean to teach her himself? They'd come a long way from their first meetings, but she was still shy around him and could not but think such a situation would inevitably lead to embarrassment. Besides, he was a Prince and that would be beneath him. Prince Aemond did not break his focus from her but spoke before she could voice any of her concerns. "I will have my sister Helaena see to it." With that he turned from her and left his chambers entirely, leaving Y/N to stare after him, mouth hanging open at the suddenness of his departure.

Aemond had been pleased to find Y/N in his chambers, a welcome sight after many days and he quietly took in her presence as she ran her hands across his books. He watched her take a particular interest in a book detailing the histories of his House and felt a spark of something, perhaps excitement, at her sharing this interest with him. He himself was a dedicated scholar and was well versed in the histories of the House of the Dragon, such was his prerogative as a Targaryen Prince. Hoping not to startle her too much, he had asked her if this was in fact the case.

Frowning as she hastily replaced the book from whence she'd taken it, he quickly strode towards the shelf to take it back out and offer it to her. He'd thought it could be an opening for a potential friendship between them. He had noticed she'd begun to interact more with him of her own volition, taking this as a sign of her feeling increasingly comfortable in his presence.

His hopes came crashing down at his handmaiden's next admission "I cannot read." Of course, he'd been foolish not to think of it and cursed himself for potentially fracturing what little progress they'd made by potentially causing her embarrassment now. Nevertheless, he could not help himself from offering her the chance to learn, having seen her gaze so longingly at the books just moments prior. Aemond had in fact intended to teach her himself, and the initial excitement that lit her eyes at his suggestion had him believing for a moment that she would be amenable to the idea. That was before he watched her face fall, and various emotions flit across her eyes.

Perhaps he had been too hasty in his belief that she was now comfortable with him and this was the cause of her conflict. It pained him somewhat to think the idea might be so displeasing to her but he tried not to let it cloud his judgement as he tried to think of a solution that would be more acceptable to Y/N. It came to him to ask Helaena of her assistance. She had a gentle and calming disposition, at least to him, and perhaps Y/N would feel more comfortable with his sister than him. He left Y/N without waiting for her response, not wishing her to see his barely repressed dissapointment, and went to seek out his sister.

Helaena had willingly agreed to teach Y/N how to read, and Aemond had gratefully kissed his beloved sister on the crown of her head before returning to his chambers, hoping that his handmaiden would be pleased.

Y/N began to spend much of her time when she was not working occupied in the Princess Helaena's chambers. The Princess was a patient teacher and a kind soul, though she often spoke words that seemed oddly prophetic and disturbed Y/N, who could not decipher their meaning. She was grateful to the Princess for her help, and more still to Prince Aemond for securing this chance for her. More surprising was his unexpected willingness to answer any questions she had of the material she read with Helaena. The Prince seemed pleased at her questioning, always gazing at her attentively as he answered. She could not help thinking they'd managed to form a strange sort of friendship, despite her shyness and the stark difference in their positions, and she increasingly looked forward to each interaction.

Aemond was not surprised to see Y/N in his sister's chambers when he had come to visit that day. She was often there now, either leaning over a new text as his sister pointed different things out to her, or playing with his little niece and nephew. He was sure her presence was a great comfort to Helaena as well, and was glad of having introduced them. He was surprised, however, to see the look of horror on his handmaiden's face as Helaena placed a furry spider upon her outstretched arm. Her eyes widened so far it might have been comical, if he had not already been aware of her deep seated fear of the creature. All the same, he felt his heart stutter slightly at the sight, in the knowledge that his handmaiden would allow such a thing in order to please his sweet sister who was giggling slightly and cooing at her pet.

And in that moment Aemond realised what he should have done weeks ago, when he had first noted that feeling of warmth spread throughout his chest at Y/N's actions. He was falling in love with his handmaiden, or indeed already had. He was certain his mother would not be best pleased. He was a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms and was surely set for a match that would be politically beneficial to his House. In truth, he found it difficult to care. He had lost so much at such a young age, and though he now rode the largest dragon in existence, he still often felt like that scared, insecure little boy who'd been mocked by his brother and nephews. He had dedicated so much of himself to embodying the role of a true Targaryen Prince, and yet his own father essentially ignored him, favouring his bastard nephews over him.

Taking all of this into consideration, was it truly wrong for him to look for a love match with someone he truly cared for? He came to his decision there and then. Aemond wanted Y/N and he would have her whether it pleased his family or otherwise. The greater problem lay in Y/N's meek disposition and wariness around him now, which had admittedly diminished but was ever present. She could hardly stand to meet his gaze for more than a few moments at a time. The Prince resolved that he would find a way to warm her heart to him, and took a step forward to rescue the object of his affections from her current predicament.