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inquisitornocturn · 2 days ago

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◇ Inter Stellas Inveniam Te ◇

◇◇◇ Chapter III - Dum Modo In Domum Suam

⚜ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Xavier Calcazar/Volenta Calcazar (OC)/Heinrix van Calox

⚜ 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: Overall story rating - E. Overall tags - romance, disaster polycule, more tba. This chapter - lovingly rough smut, PiV, creampie, fluff.

⚜ 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞 𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: Even the most powerful have their weaknesses. Volenta has more than a few of her own. One such weakness being her husband. Another - her love for toying with others. Her station permits it, but it doesn't come without consequences, because Lady Inquisitor soon finds herself entangled with another man. And she doesn't know just what events will unfold when the man she's married to gets assigned to look over the Koronus Expanse.

In the 41st millennium, there's only war. Be it on surfaces of planets, on the decks of spaceships or… in personal lives. And those battles are not easily won.

⚜ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: The encounter with Heinrix and the drunken high in emotions gets easily forgotten when Volenta heads home, to the one she loves. Even news delivered by a man in her retinue does not sour her mood. Their reunion is passionate and sweet, because no matter how much time they are forced to spend apart, it doesn't dull their feelings for one another. Not even one bit.

⚜ 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 6,661 | AO3 | Chapter navigation

⚜ 𝖆/𝖓: When I say Xavier has big dick energy it's not a metaphor

Getting out her car, Volenta gets a strange feeling for just a second and knows immediately what is coming. The moment her vehicle door shuts and automatically moves itself to the parking area, there’s a gust of wind and it’s there only because she was allowed to sense it.

“Volenta…” A voice by her ear and she rises an eyebrow, waiting for the man to appear before her.

He played these tricks with her before, when she was looking to recruit someone from Officio Assassinorum. He didn’t take her seriously, toying around, not letting her see him, waiting for the revulsion that overtakes almost everyone when a Blank like him is around. Yet Volenta didn’t show revulsion or disgust and that made him interested.

“Good evening, Seth. Aren’t you supposed to be on Illustris, tracking Inquisitor Lilly Zantz?” There’s no displeasure in Volenta’s voice, she knows how not to betray her emotions and if Seth is here, she is absolutely sure he has a good reason for it.

Another gentle gust, like it’s stroking her loose white hair, and as if appearing from the Immaterium itself, Seth steps from behind her shoulder. He doesn’t look much different than usual. Black synskin bodyglove tightly stretched over his lean, muscular body. A sniper’s rifle, his favorite, strapped to the back by a leather braided cord. And his helmet, shaped like a skull with variety of mechanisms upon it, is tightly held under Seth’s arm.

When Volenta looks at the familiar face, she sees the paleness of his skin, like Seth has never seen the sun, but that’s farthest thing from truth. His long, black hair is loose like hers, glossy and smooth, with thick strands so heavy they barely move when an actual gust of wind reaches them both. But that smile, sharp and merciless, doesn’t reach Seth’s dark brown eyes. In them Volenta sees a degree of affection. Or rather - appreciation. She’s one of the few who can ignore the aura that Omega-Minus omit just by sheer existence. Her training negates the effects and thus allows the two a more cordial relationship than most would be able to achieve with someone like him.

“Well?” She urges the man and he scoffs, bowing deeply before her.

“Apologies, Lady Inquisitor Prime. I’m here bearing the news.”

Seth never appears without a summon or a reason and the fact that Volenta has not received any news through her usual channels makes her jaw clench slightly. Either it’s something really good, or something really, really bad. And most often than not - it’s the latter.

The smile is gone from Seth’s face when he stands upright again and steps closer to Volenta, letting her smell the soaps and blood on his person. She doesn’t mind, letting him lean to her ear. “Lords of Terra want to set up a direct holo-projection communication with you. Tomorrow morning.”

“Tsk.” Volenta pauses, then without moving asks in a same whisper that Seth delivered the news. “Any indication what they want?”

“No. But, Volenta, there have been murmurings about the Koronus Expanse lately. If you will allow me to speculate, they might order you, or order you to order someone else, to go and deal with it.”

Looking into the distance over Seth’s shoulder, where the gate of her palace disappears into the evening fog, she exhales slowly. “What about Raphael.”

“He’s not involved.”

“And Kleopatra?”

“Not involved.”

“Direct communication with whom?”

“Luther got an Astropathic message while on Illustris and sent me here to inform you.”

Volenta doesn’t know how to take this. Usually Lords of Terra contact her directly but the fact that they went through the psyker in her retinue, especially when that psyker has been sent with Seth on a mission, means they want to delay her knowledge. Why is that?

“Go back to Illustris, I’ll establish communication tomorrow, Nesex will assist.” She watches Seth step back once sensitive information is done exchanging and he nods. But there’s a serious look on the assassin’s face.

“What about Decimeline?” He asks, knowing full well that the palatine of Adepta Sororitas has been missing for two Terran months now.

“I don’t think it’s about Dec. They wouldn’t bother making an early call just to tell me something about her. No, it’s something else.” Volenta thinks for a moment longer, then nods to Seth. “Follow my orders.” Yet when he lifts his helmet to place it back upon his head, Volenta rises her hand, pausing the man. “Tell Luther to keep himself open for a direct communication from me. He knows what I’m talking about.”

“Very well, Lady Inquisitor Prime.” With a respectful and low bow, Seth finally affixes the helmet where it should be, but then pauses. “Volenta, whatever it is, know that the Emperor’s light guides you.” Seth’s voice comes out jagged through the vox not unlike those used by Adeptus Mechanicus and she curtly nods in response, then offers a placating smile. He learned long ago that even when things look the worst, Volenta’s undying love for the Emperor will see her through. It has many times in the past, some of them near miraculous.

“I know. Go.” She commands in a harsher tone and it’s like the assassin disappears without a trace. His teleporter as quiet as death itself.

Without a pause, Volenta turns on her heel and approaches the steps to the main door. Two guards are standing there, stiff like poles stuck in rockrete, and they salute when she approaches. The massive double door slowly opens up and stepping inside the Inquisitor looks around her own home. It’s lavish, gilded, and much like her office – representing her love for the Emperor and her loyalty to the Most Holy Ordos. It’s a home she built with Xavier, even if neither of them get to use it as often as they would like.

A serf approaches in quick steps when Volenta enters, her long crimson robe delicately embroidered with aquilas, and she bows deeply before her mistress. “Welcome back, My Lady.”

“Is Xavier home?” She asks and pulls off her gloves, handing them to the maid who takes this simple item like it’s a holy relic, her palms upturned in reverence.

“Yes, My Lady. Arrived an hour ago.”

“Anything else?” Volenta asks when another maid appears from a side door and quietly unfastens her cloak, then removes the pauldrons with stealthy efficiency.

“Magos Prime Hermeticon Psykana Etus 80/3 B9C Nes4-1B Ex has just left a message that he wishes to meet you in the office first thing tomorrow.”

So he knows. No wonder. Volenta already assumed that Seth would attempt to make her life easier and contact Nesex on her behalf. “Very well. If there’s nothing else-“

“My Lady, there has been an issue with two servitors in your employ. They malfunctioned earlier today.” The serf bows low again. Volenta doesn’t fly into undeserved wraths, but still the young woman is terrified to give her bad news.

“Any damage?” Without looking at the servant, Volenta simply unbuckles her belt and hands it to the quiet one who takes the heavy item without a fuss, even though she is laboring with the weight of items attached to it.

“Nothing that can’t be easily replaced, My Lady. Two barrels of wine, one crate of canned goods-“

“Merava.” Volenta stops the verbal report and when the woman rises her face to her mistress, she sees a calm expression and a piercing gaze, nailing her down where she stands on the black marble floor. “I took you to serve me and this household under a very convincing recommendation. I would have assumed that you would know not to bother me with trivial things such as units of damaged goods. Unless it’s actually worth my attention, I recommend you don’t bring up things like this to my attention from this point onwards. I have entrusted entire fleet of servants to you, I require that you solve everything you can solve without needing my intervention. Monthly reports are enough to let me know any possible extra expenses. Is that understood?”

“Yes, My Lady.” Merava drops her head in a low bow, still holding Volenta’s gloves like they have been blessed by the Emperor himself.

Without looking at Merava again, Volenta passes her while unbuttoning her longcoat. Maybe it was a mistake to force Isobella to retire. The woman was old but knew how to do her job and Inquisitor took Merava under her recommendation. Before coming here, she served Grandmaster Raphael who released the servant to work for Volenta with ease, not bothering to care who is bringing his morning recaf as long as it’s not cold or spilled along the way. But the woman appears to be scared to perform her duties and that’s one of the trivial things that Volenta herself does not see the reason to bother with.

Still, Isobella was sure that Merava can serve well, just like she did, and so Volenta is willing to be patient. From what she can understand, Raphael wanted everything reported to him and his right-hand man, or lover, depending on how one looks at their relationship. So Merava can be excused for being overzealous when it comes to informing masters of the house about every minutiae detail. Hopefully she will stop doing that now, taking on responsibility as an appointed head of household servants.

Climbing the grand stair, Volenta hooks a finger over the collar of her undershirt and tugs at it, then pulls the zipper lower. Her heart is pounding in her chest the closer she’s getting to the study where she expects her husband to be. She forgets troubles of the Imperium, forgets Heinrix and Seth, and most likely a very unpleasant call she’s bound to have tomorrow morning. All that matters right now is to be in the arms of the one for whom her heart aches so much that it feels like it’s being squeezed in an unforgiving fist.

Her footsteps increase, adamantine heels sounding loud on marble tiles where they are not covered by luxurious carpets and she takes a turn, another one, then climbs stairs again. She’s passing paintings of saints and depictions of the Emperor, passing vases filled with dark flowers and cabinets full of books or displays of every kind of light weaponry that exists, both human and of xenos make.

Finally, after what feels like eternity despite it being no more than fifteen minutes, Volenta stops before an ornate wooden door and sweeps back a palm over her hair, trying to tame any possible strands that might be out of place. She exhales and briefly chews on her bottom lip then opens the door, entering and inspecting her surroundings with same vigilance as if she’s on a battlefield.

The room looks the same as always. Vaulted ceilings, candles and shelves upon shelves crammed with tomes and scrolls. A massive desk in a middle of the room, placed upon a large Inquisitorial symbol under the armorcrys, all assembled from skulls of heretics. Besides the soft candlelight, the hololith lights up briefly, displaying the entirety of the galaxy with Holy Terra at its center. Then it flickers out again for a briefest of moments as it updates with an ongoing stream of information of planets lost, claimed or destroyed. When Volenta glances to the area where the drinks are stacked, she sees it mostly untouched, besides a glass of an amber liquid resting upon the smaller table, accompanied by a bottle of a seventy year old amesac.

Briefly exhaling through her nose, Volenta frowns. More in disappointment than disapproval that she misjudged where Xavier could be. Yet when she’s about to turn the door behind her shuts close and cold, metal fingers wrap around her exposed throat. With a soft gasp, the Inquisitor stiffens and rises her chin before, by her neck, Volenta is pushed backwards, against a body that is taller and stronger than hers.

“Xavier…” She breathes out and the grip on her neck tightens, then another arm snakes around and finds the zipper of Volenta’s shirt, pulling it down and liberating her chest in one easy tug. Cold rosette falls between her breaths, feeling familiar and comforting.

“Yes, my dear?” He croons right against her ear, a warm palm pressing against her stomach and slipping higher, cupping a heavy breast that spills over Xavier’s fingers even if contained by a bra. He fondles it gently, brushing a thumb over where the nipple hides and feels it perk up with eager need.

“I missed you.” Volenta exhales again and closes her eyes briefly, not moving a finger to interrupt her husband’s touches. In turn the grip on her throat tightens, threatening to cut off oxygen, but she only smiles and feels Xavier plant a chaste kiss to her cheek.

“I missed you too.” He whispers and gives her breast a squeeze that borders on painful, with satisfaction hearing his wife inhale sharply despite the struggle to breathe. “It’s been far too long, don’t you think.”

It’s not a question, they both know it’s the truth. Yet when Volenta tries to turn her face, tries to look at Xavier and those features that only become more dear as decades pass, he instead marches her forward, making the woman stumble slightly at the hurried pressure against her back. And despite her initial surprise, she obeys and does not fight. She knows what’s next. They both do.

Just before Volenta’s thighs run into the edge of the desk, Xavier’s augmetic hand swiftly slips from the front of her throat to the back of it and she gets slammed chest first onto the tabletop. The impact makes her huff but she still doesn’t struggle. She smiles instead and moves her arms when Xavier first unceremoniously peels away her coat, throwing it behind himself, then does the same with her shirt. Edges of the rosette are cutting sharply into her chest and both breasts between which it got lodged when she got pinned down, but Volenta barely notices the pain. Instead, she patiently waits for Xavier to cut off her bra, knowing her husband’s impatience with her delicates and only smiles when the blunt but cold edge of an Inquisitorial dagger presses against her back. The tension around her upper body snaps and releases. Two more cuts for the bra straps and the dagger clatters onto the desk next by her head, shining gold glittering in the myriad of lit candles.

There’s a hiss behind Volenta and she bites her bottom lip before Xavier’s fingers press below his bionic ones, still gripping the back of her neck. Warm digits trace down her spine sending a shudder down her body and then between the shoulder blades, outlining the Inquisition tattoo that Volenta has had there since her early days as an acolyte. It covers her entire back, from neck down to lumbar, inked in black and with the skull in great detail at the center. But Xavier doesn’t only touch the tattoo. His fingers move around it, gently sweeping over the scars surrounding the symbol. Scars that he himself has inflicted upon her.

It happened when she was still his acolyte, when she made reckless mistakes and needed to be reminded of her devotion. Through the years, the need to punish her diminished greatly as Volenta perfected herself under his guidance and those of others. It’s been over a decade since he had to absolve his wife of her sins and Xavier doesn’t miss it. It broke him to do it as much as it did her and yet it was a ritual for them both. Sometimes most memorable lessons are those that one learns through pain delivered by a loving hand.

She still is Xavier’s biggest achievement and his most agonizing struggle. Duty versus love, Imperium versus a man. He’s proud, but that didn’t come without a cost. Volenta’s body bears marks of her mistakes, a canvas that are his to paint in crimson. Not with a brush, but with an edge of a blade.

It takes Xavier a moment to remember that this is not one of such moments and he leans down, pressing his lips to Volenta’s naked shoulder. “Beautiful, as always.” Breathing hotly against his wife’s skin, Xavier moves his hand from the tattoo and around her, finding the belt of her pants and handling the buckle with practiced ease. “Have you been behaving?”

Volenta chuckles with amusement, although it is a subdued sound due to her being pressed so harshly upon the table. The hololith flickers in and out, casting a greenish blue hue upon them both at even intervals. “Am I just a feral cat to you?”

“I haven’t forgotten your behavior when you were exactly that.” Xavier smiles and she can feel it against her shoulder, then lower, when he kisses her shoulder blade.

“That was almost sixty years ago.” Volenta protests with a smile but her eyelids grow heavy with desire when her husband swiftly undoes her pants and with a grip over the waistband pulls them down her hips, not sparing even the underwear.

“And memory of those days is as strong as if it has happened just a year ago.” There’s a hint of a smile in Xavier’s on voice and reaching around his wife he gently traces his fingertips against her already soaking sex. She has always been so easy for him and that’s one of many things that he loves dearly about her.

With a tiny gasp Volenta moves her hips as much as she can in her position, grinding against Xavier’s fingers in an unspoken plea that he knows well. And because of his own throbbing need pressing almost painfully against the front of his pants, Xavier doesn’t give Volenta what she needs. He needs her, now and urgently, he’s not willing to waste seconds playing with her.

Only when Xavier removes his hand from between Volenta’s legs is when she finally has enough sense of mind to respond, patiently listening to the sounds of a belt buckle being managed and a zipper drawn down. “I inspected Heinrix, by the way. He’s in the clear.”

“Of that I had no doubt.” Xavier responds absentmindedly. Duty is the farthest thing from his mind right now, especially when he pulls out his cock, the tip already slick with precum. Damn her, he thinks to himself with a loving ache in his heart, she always makes him feel like a teen back in schola, overeager and impatient.

“Did you send him my way to be tortured then?” Volenta tries to turn her head to look at Xavier but it’s impossible, and at her movement the metallic grip on her neck tightens.

“Did you torture him, my dear?”

“Not in a conventional way, no.” She smiles and with a satisfied gasp feels Xavier’s cock rest heavy between her buttocks, but only until he shifts his pants a little lower and out of the way.

“As long as he has all the limbs, I do not care what you do with him.” It sounds like a sentence rather than a playful response and Volenta knows that he couldn’t care less for Heinrix or anyone else.

Except for her. She knows that some think them foolish for indulging themselves like this, with feelings and relations, with marriage. Most agents forsake such things, they usually do not end well for anyone. But she’s willing to risk it all, and Xavier is too, because what they have is so much more precious, because of how fragile it is.

For a second Volenta wonders if she should tell her husband that Heinrix kissed her. And that she responded. That she was willing to do more than just kiss him, too. But that thought gets wiped away from the forefront of her thoughts when Xavier moves, gripping the thick base of his cock in preparation to stake his claim in her once again. “Xavier…”

“One thing I want you to do, Volenta.” He begins speaking and aims the tip right at her entrance, rubbing it there and slicking himself with her arousal.

“Yes?” She breathes heavy, already choking on her desire and then feels her hip being gripped tightly, holding her in place.

“Always perform your duty. No matter what.” And with those words, Xavier thrusts right to the hilt into her, making Volenta cry out both with pleasure and discomfort at his size that even after all these years catches her unprepared. Especially when the two of them spend significant time apart. “Emperor’s Blood…” He sighs with relief when her wet heat envelopes him and Xavier begins thrusting, not wasting even a second more to experience the friction that he has been dreaming about for days.

“Yes, Inquisitor.” Volenta gasps in response and that earns her a soft chuckle from Xavier, at which she smiles too. “I see you really missed me.” She says with a tense voice between her moans at his every pump that fills her near painfully. It’s a sweet kind of pain, the one that she craves for consistently.

“Did you doubt me, my dear?” Leaning over her, Xavier kisses her back in between the thrusts and watches Volenta’s fingers trying to grip upon the smooth surface of the table as he pounds into her. The scent, her scent, makes the Inquisitor finally feel at home.

“No, it’s just-“ She gets cut off by another deep thrust and whines in response so sweetly that it only urges Xavier to fuck into her harder, faster. Screw it, he finds himself thinking, they can take it slow later. But right now he just wants and needs Volenta like a breath of air.

“Later.” Curtly ordering his wife to stop talking, Xavier digs his fingers into her flesh, bruising Volenta’s hip and the back of her neck. He knows this and he doesn’t care. Watching himself thrust into the woman that is more important to him than the Emperor or the Inquisition is all that matters. He knows she would call it blasphemy if he told her, so he won’t. Maybe ever. But he knows this as firmly as he knows tenets of the Inquisition, with truth that is unshakable.

There are only sounds of skin against skin and Volenta’s moans that drown out Xavier’s groans in the room for a few moments, but he senses her tightening around his length. “Xavier, I-“ Another deep thrust cuts his wife off but she doesn’t need to say anything else, he knows. She’s close.

Straightening his back just to see himself better as his cock, slick and dripping with Volenta’s arousal, keeps plundering the body of a woman he loves, Xavier huffs a heavy breath. “I know.” He’s close too and he can feel it, accelerated by mere knowledge that Volenta is going to come for him so fast. His ocular device says it has been barely eight minutes, ticking to nine when Xavier pays the briefest of attention to the clock in the micro display.

She says something again, calls to him, but not even Volenta is sure what she’s saying anymore. Calling Xavier’s name or praying to the Emperor, both can be true or neither. All she knows is how she feels, her body trembling with tension and upcoming pleasure, her thighs shaking every time she’s filled so deeply it makes her head spin. With nails scraping upon the ancient wooden desk, Volenta closes her eyes and lets herself go, giving into the sensations that overwhelm her immediately.

Crying out and moaning with choked breaths, Volenta unravels as Xavier gives her his all for the last few thrusts. Her feet slip on the floor, losing the ground beneath them, and with one last deep shove, the Inquisitor bends over his wife’s prone body. Pressing his forehead against her back, he moans with the pleasure of releasing himself deeply inside of her, claiming Volenta as his in the only way that truly matters.

Xavier’s hips jerk couple times as he empties himself to the last drop and Volenta finally relaxes, her body’s grip upon her husband finally relenting. He was only a handful of seconds late, but that doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, he’s finally home, finally with her.

Panting heavily, Xavier remains as he is for a long moment and so does Volenta, trying to catch her breath. She feels his weight upon her and the fullness inside, at which she smiles a tired, lazy smile. Her hair is sticking to her damp face and her insides ache from the pounding she just has received, but it’s a wonderful kind of feeling. Familiar, welcome and endearing.

“I love you.” Hearing a whisper against her back Volenta smiles, after long months apart finally feeling content again.

“I love you too. Now, can you get off? My rosette will slice me open soon if you don’t.”

“My apologies.” Xavier at last snaps back to the present and with a heavy huff, he pushes himself off his wife and carefully pulls out.

When Volenta rises her upper body by her hands, she glances over the shoulder at Xavier, feeling his fingers spread her folds and observe the mess he has made out of her. With a smile, she lets him look because the moment she rises the rosette dislodges itself from between her breasts, dangling lazily from around her neck.

“Proud of your handiwork?” Teasing, Volenta smiles and Xavier’s eye snaps to her. Then his features soften and the man smiles back, letting out a breath.

“Shouldn’t I be?” With his left hand, Xavier again grips Volenta’s throat and pulls her backwards, turning her body and face just enough to kiss her before she speaks again.

With a chuckle she doesn’t kiss back but pretends to keep talking despite his passionate kiss, and with a playfully annoyed grumble Xavier shoves his tongue in her mouth, finally shutting Volenta up. Two ways work when she’s like this: a deep kiss or a cock in her throat. This time he chose the kiss.

For a long moment they kiss and during it Volenta turns in his arms, pressing herself against Xavier’s firm and broad frame, running her hands under his shirt and feeling scars, muscle and body hair. “You’ve been away for too long.” Whispering against his lips, Volenta slides one hand down and cups his genitals, still damp with sweat and her own slickness, and Xavier in turn holds her by the waist, pulling back slightly.

“Do you think I had a choice? The damned Koronus Expanse has been pain in the backseat of a Golden Throne itself.” He sighs and closes his eyes for a brief moment. “Something has to be done. There are ten other inquisitors there that I left operating, but I have a feeling we need an appropriate conclave to begin tackling the backwater that the sector is. Heresy and chaos abound. Maybe it would be better to just blast it all away and be done with it. Surely-“

“Xavier.” Volenta interrupts and smiles, making him look at her again. “I’m dripping and it’s your fault. You can grumble about the Koronus Expanse in the bathroom.” Rising her hand and caressing the side of his face, she easily makes Xavier calm down and he sighs, leaning into her touch.

“If there’s peace in this universe, then you’re mine.” He says softly, takes Volenta’s hand from his face and kisses her palm. “But fine, we can wash up.”

With a gentle smile, Volenta pulls back. After collecting her clothes and the cut bra, they both exit the study. While chatting about the current events on Terra, they walk to the bedroom and discard the clothes onto the nearest armchair. Xavier then leads his wife to the bathroom while retelling her how his journey through the Warp went. Afterwards, as they both wash off under the shower, he also tells Volenta of the Koronus Expanse. About the Explorator fleet that seems to be deadlocked in an argument over tech-heresy, the pirates and the drukhari plundering Imperial worlds as if they belong to the xenos, and of course the tendrils of a Chaos cult, maybe even more than one, beginning to show signs of corruption throughout the system.

“And what are the rogue traders doing?” Volenta asks. After that brief cleansing shower, they decided to take a bath together. A serf brought them a plate of finger foods and a whole bottle of best amesac from the cellars, placing all atop a movable tray nearby then disappearing.

“Not much as far as I’m aware. There’s three.” Xavier explains and leans against the edge of a tub once it has filled and they get in it, pulling Volenta against him, chest to chest. No more cutting rosettes are present, both his and hers hanging over a small statue of a God-Emperor at the small shrine nearby.

“Three? Not many for a sector like this, no?” She asks and gets comfortable between his legs, brushing wet strands of hair behind his ears. Xavier grips a handful of Volenta’s rear, both to prevent her from slipping away and just because he can.

“Would be enough if they were doing their duty to the Golden Throne.” Xavier sighs and watches Volenta reach to the glasses already filled with rich amesac and take one, then bring it to his lips. The liquor is rich and smooth as it goes down, then explodes in fire in his stomach. “Incendia Bastaal-Chorda seems to be the only one still following the Emperor’s tenets.” Inquisitor continues while Volenta pulls the glass to her and shares the drink, swallowing it slowly. He then reaches to the plate and takes a handful of sweet and sour fruit, home planet of which he can’t even be sure of, but it appears round, deep purple and smooth. “Calligos Winterscale is suspected of murdering previous Winterscale but there’s more than that. Through the several years I’ve had my comings and goings to the Koronus Expanse, I have paid attention to Calligos but recently he appears to swiftly lose interest in his planets and holdings. It’s either worrying or suspicious, depending on what the answer might be for this kind of behavior.

“Winterscale? Isn’t it the dynasty that discovered Koronus in the first place?” Volenta asks and allows Xavier feed her one fruit, then another and begins chewing.

“The story goes as you say, but as always there are rumors that speak different.”

“Mm. And the third one?” Swallowing the fruit, Volenta takes another sip from the glass while watching Xavier partake in the delicacy himself and waits for his response.

“Theodora von Valancius. A fierce woman, but misguided. I suspect she’s hiding something. I have implanted my spies upon her ship and retinue, but none of them have reported back to me in over two weeks.” Guiding Volenta’s hand to himself, Xavier drinks from the glass. The water in the tub is warm, steaming around them and worries of the Koronus Expanse seem to be so far away now, not even counting the actual distance from Terra.

“Shrewd, if she managed to sniff out your agents.” Putting the glass back onto the tray, Volenta plucks another fruit from Xavier’s palm and chews on it for a moment. She wants to tell him about the call she’s having tomorrow but reconsiders. Maybe it’s related.

“There’s another thing.” Xavier says and pauses, looking into those pale grey eyes of his wife. Eyes that make others uneasy when they turn to them.

“Oh? Pray tell.” Getting even more comfortable, Volenta drapes both arms over Xavier’s shoulders and smiles, letting him brush away a strand of hair from her cheek, the rest floating around them like snowy streaks in the water.

“Theodora is looking for heirs. It’s not that alarming, many Rogue Traders like to prepare their heirs in advance as they age and Von Valancius has no heirs of her own, for whatever reason that may be.”

“Looking for heirs? A dwindling dynasty then?” Stealing a brief kiss, Volenta begins toying with Xavier’s wet hair as she lays upon his chest.

“Maybe dwindling in blood, but not riches. Theodora has worked hard to keep Von Valancius as influential as the other two rogue trader houses. However, I have read reports that she has not been extremely successful in finding the heirs. Two so far. A sanctioned psyker by the name of Edelthrad and another one, already in her employ, by the name of Kunrad.”

“Well, here we go, guess she does have heirs.”

“I looked into her bloodline myself. Naturally, I prefer to keep an eye on such affluent people, just in case.” Xavier slows, not sure how to proceed. How does he tell Volenta something like this? And what if, what if she wants to-

“And? Any more discoveries?” Feeling her back beginning to ache from her current position, Volenta moves and straddles Xavier’s lap, making waves slosh over the sides of the tub. When she’s done positioning her body, the Inquisitor strokes her naked thighs under the water and gazes up at her.

“Look at me.” He softly commands and she lowers her eyes onto his, fingers gripping his slick shoulders, hair stuck to her exposed skin, pebbled with bath water. “You are one of her heirs.”

Volenta just stares and him and suddenly breaks into a smile. “Really?”

“Do you judge my methods to be faulty when acquiring information?” Xavier gives her a slightly tense smile and Volenta chuckles.

“No, absolutely not. I’m just a little surprised.”

“I was at first as well but then it didn’t strike me as surprising. A child lost onto a Hive world with no recollection of her parents who crashed onto said planet. No relatives trying to find their family. Until you ended up in Astra Millitarum. And then in the Inquisition.” As he speaks, Xavier’s left hand moves to her back and strokes it in gentle sweeps.

“Still, how did you find out about it?” Cocking her head to the side, Volenta looks almost innocently curious if he didn’t know any better. That cutting, calculating look in her eyes speaks of wisdom far beyond her years and she’s not even that young anymore.

“The spies I sent managed to sneak a sample of Von Valancius DNA to me and I did my own investigation. Considering I have access to data that Theodora doesn’t, it was easy to trace that lineage to you.”

“I see.”

Silence falls as Volenta considers what she has been told just now. In the quiet of the bathroom, she traces her fingertips over the augmetic plate on Xavier’s head, ghosting over the tubes that sneak around his skull and sink into his spine. She remembers how he got this one. She remembers all of them, except for the eye. That he lost before he traversed the filthy tunnels of the regiment she has been attached to as a young woman.

This plate, however, he received some fifty years ago. They were fighting Nurgle’s forces on a planet that doesn’t exist anymore. Side by side, they were the only ones left and a handful of other acolytes that Xavier brought with him to ‘observe a simple cleansing mission’. Things went wrong. Horrendously wrong. Local PDF was wiped out by the time they arrived, civilians scattered in the streets, all in pieces. And those who weren’t killed were infected, going through rapt mutation even when they looked upon poor souls that didn’t deserve the Emperor’s light anymore. It was a site of carnage and disease. The forces with which Xavier arrived quickly engaged in battle, but he brought too few. A mistake anyone could’ve made and it cost lives of many loyal soldiers.

The dropship that Xavier took to the planet has been immediately overrun and so Volenta had to help him organize the terrified acolytes, or what was left of them, and try to find any shuttle that would take them back to the main ship. It was a trek through land so corrupted that the very air stung their lungs.

And then one shot rang out.

One simple shot that nobody saw coming, caught Xavier in the head, taking with it hair, skin and part of the skull, exposing the brain beneath. Volenta took leadership then. Barking orders that she never had to give before, threatening a terrified psyker that she will pluck his eyes out with bare fingers if he doesn’t do anything. A biomancer, the man that was twice older than her and just fresh out of Scholastica Psykana, begged for mercy while she rained verbal abuse upon him. Volenta doesn’t even remember his name anymore, another one lost to the histories of galaxy, but he saved Xavier that day. And ever since then Volenta insisted that he has a biomancer by his side, to which he agreed.

“My love.” Xavier’s voice, present in here and now, cuts through the memories and Volenta blinks couple times, then looks at him.

“I’m not going to serve some sort of rogue trader, Xavier. Heir or not, this is way beneath me and I am already serving the Imperium in a way only I can serve it. So Theodora can go ahead and shove it up her-“

Xavier laughs. He can’t help it. The tirade that was beginning to get angrier with each word is quite endearing and he cups his wife’s face with both his palms. “I didn’t say that you have to claim your lineage.”

“Good, because I won’t.”

“Volenta, I would never threaten to take away what you worked so hard for. You need to understand this.” He says this patiently, every word slow, and Xavier watches Volenta’s expression soften. Then she deflates but still pouts at him.

“I’ll call in some favors and find someone to take my place. Just in case Theodora sniffs out there’s someone else. I couldn’t care less to be a rogue trader, I have my hands full as is.” She mumbles and Xavier chuckles, bringing her face close and kissing her. In some ways she hasn’t changed at all. Even after decades of seeing horrors that the Imperium has to fight against, even after countless losses and failures, some of them etched in her skin by his own hand.

“You’re a handful yourself sometimes, my dear.” Xavier murmurs against her lips and feels Volenta smile widely at that. She takes his right arm by the wrist and leads it to her breast which he gladly encases in his augmetic fingers.

“A handful like that?” She teases and he laughs again.

“Something like that.”

And then he kisses her again, desire stirring in Xavier’s loins in that familiar fashion that Volenta provokes with such ease it could be studied for its effectiveness. But for a moment there, just for a moment, Xavier finds doubt in his heart. And worry.

What if she did want to become a rogue trader. That would’ve put Volenta in closer proximity to him since Lords of Terra have been sending the Inquisitor to the Koronus Expanse quite often as of past few years. But that would’ve been the only benefit. She is where she belongs, he knows. Ever since he made her join Ordo Hereticus and saw her rapidly climb the promotion ladder, he knew that Volenta is where she has to be. And maybe their time together is not constant, it’s worth it. So, so worth it.

“Love me.” Volenta gasps into Xavier’s lips and takes his other hand, intertwining their fingers together when she starts grinding herself against his cock that has grown hard even if his mind was briefly elsewhere.

And he does love her, with both body and soul. Xavier shows it to her again and holds Volenta tight against himself as she rides him, bringing moans both out of his own throat and hers.

It’s so good to be back home.

#rogue trader #xavier calcazar #heinrix van calox #rogue trader crpg #rogue trader fanfiction #xavier fic #heinrix fic #fandom: wh40krt #volenta calcazar #Inter Stellas Inveniam Te #nocturn writes

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shadowknightapologist · 5 months ago

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one of my greatest agonies is like. laurance/aphmau found family or polycule

#hyenlowz #[ 🃏 ]#shadowknightapologist #[ 👻 ]#aphmau #MCD #minecraft diaries #aphmau laurance #i was always ALWAYS a laurance girlie #live laugh love laurmau #but also #laurance mistaking any positive attraction for love bc he's so desperate to have a family #to secure a legacy...#and aphmau introduces this idea that he doesn't need kids to be remembered??#that he can have someone waiting at home for him without being married to them??#or something #i'm not the best at phrasing things rn i have half a brain

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cbeargyu · 7 days ago

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marry me, mr. jeong

summary: while everyone around you is getting married, you're left behind—no ring, no lover, just silence waiting at home. but one night, your boss, mr. jeong, makes an unexpected proposal: "marry me." and suddenly, your quiet world begins to burn.

pairing: boss!jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: romance, slow burn, fluff, emotional smut, domestic married life, eventual pregnancy, emotional growth, healing.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), strong language, emotional vulnerability, pregnancy mention (later), minor angst, lots of kissing, crying, soft husband jaehyun, tooth-rotting fluff, crying-in-the-club type of love.

wc: 19,7K

notes: i’m obsessed with jaehyun as a boss, boyfriend, hubby, and daddy lmao. man’s got range 😮‍💨💍🖤 i swear i try to keep it short but my brain goes rogue every time 😭 like girl be fr, when’s the day i finally drop a short fic??? bye lmao 💀

you’re twenty-nine, and the number feels heavier than you thought it would. not because it’s old—not really—but because thirty is close. and thirty means expectations. by now, you were supposed to have it all figured out. at least, that’s what they say. your friends certainly make it seem that way with their photo-perfect marriages, toddlers learning to walk, houses in peaceful neighborhoods. meanwhile, you still live in a quiet apartment with plants you often forget to water and a fridge that holds more takeout containers than groceries.

you work at an architecture firm—clean lines, big ideas, and even bigger egos. the kind of place where late nights are common and recognition is rare. you’ve built a name for yourself, though. you lead your team well, your ideas consistently get approved, and your work ethic has never been in question. the other women whisper that you’re just trying to impress the boss, that your dedication is nothing but a strategic flirtation. they don't know that your passion isn’t about pleasing anyone but yourself. well, mostly. maybe part of you does want to be seen. to be acknowledged by him.

jeong jaehyun.

your department lead. two years younger than you, but somehow always carrying himself like he’s lived three lives already. he doesn’t talk much. doesn’t engage in the small talk that fills the office kitchen or the empty flattery some of your coworkers throw his way. he’s serious, focused, almost too calm. the kind of man who’s unreadable, and yet somehow always watching. you’re not close, not really, but there’s a quiet understanding between you. he trusts you. you can feel it in the way he gives you space to lead, the way he nods subtly in meetings when you speak, the way his eyes linger sometimes—not in a way that feels invasive, but like he’s... thinking.

you’ve never seen him flirt with anyone. never seen him talk about his personal life. no ring, no photos on his desk, not even vague mentions of a girlfriend or family. and while no one dares to say anything to his face, everyone wonders. he's a man, though—no one criticizes him for being single. no one asks him what he's waiting for.

you, on the other hand, can barely go a week without someone making a comment. still not married? you’re so pretty, what a shame. your mother means well, but every call ends with a variation of you’re not getting any younger, sweetheart.you smile through it. you tell them you're happy. you tell yourself that, too. but deep down, there's a quiet ache. because you’ve always wanted a family. always dreamed of being a mother, of coming home to someone who knows you—not just your schedule or your favorite takeout order, but the way you think, the way you feel things deeply and try to hide it. but love hasn’t knocked in years. not since your last relationship ended at twenty-two, before the world hardened your heart. since then, you’ve been too busy, too careful, too tired.

tonight, you're staying late again. the office is nearly empty, save for a few flickering lights and the buzz of a vending machine down the hall. you're finessing the last pieces of a major project, making sure every detail is just right. you're in the zone when you hear soft footsteps approaching, and then his voice—low, familiar, closer than expected.

“you’re still here, byun?”

you glance up to find jaehyun standing by your desk, hands in his pockets, that usual unreadable expression on his face. there’s no judgment in his voice, just quiet curiosity.

you offer a tired smile, leaning back in your chair. “oh, mr. jeong, i just wanted to polish a few things before the presentation. i figured if i leave anything messy, the senior managers will rip it apart. and then you’ll take the heat for it.”

he raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that almost looks like a smile. “you care that much about how i look to the execs?”

you shrug, turning back to your screen. “you’re my boss. if you look bad, i look bad.”

he lets out a soft exhale, a sound that's dangerously close to a chuckle. then he leans against your desk, his body relaxed but his eyes still sharp as ever. “you’re too committed.”

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

he shakes his head. “not bad. just... rare.”

a brief silence settles between you, not awkward, but weighted. it feels like he’s about to say something else, and when he does, it’s not what you expect.

“doesn’t your family mind that you stay this late?” his gaze holds yours. “your husband? kids?”

you blink, the question catching you off guard. your smile falters just slightly, and you look down at your hands before answering.

“no husband. no kids. no one waiting at home.” you try to sound casual, even throw in a little laugh. “i guess i’m just married to the job.”

he doesn’t laugh. doesn’t look away. “i didn’t know.”

you nod, suddenly very aware of the silence around you. “most people assume. but... yeah. i live alone.”

another pause. then, gently, you ask, “what about you, mr. jeong? i mean, you’re always here late too. no one waiting on you?”

he looks away for the first time, his jaw tightening slightly before he answers. “no one yet.”

and there it is again—that silence between you. but this time, it’s different. it hums with something unspoken. curiosity. surprise. maybe even recognition.

you return your gaze to the screen, not really seeing it. he’s still standing there, close enough to feel but not close enough to touch. something in the air shifts, and for the first time in a long time, your chest feels... not heavy, but full.

the next morning, you arrived a few minutes early—just like always. being punctual wasn’t about impressing anyone; it was about control, about proving—at least to yourself—that you had your life together. it made you feel reliable. consistent. in a workplace full of half-assed excuses and people who couldn’t meet a deadline to save their lives, your discipline was something you wore like armor. something no one could take from you.

your outfit was soft, delicate even—rose-pink skirt brushing just above your knees, a crisp white button-up tucked in neatly, the blazer matching your skirt in a subtle pastel tone. your heels clicked softly against the tile floor as you made your way to your desk, and as you passed the reflection on one of the glass panels, you couldn’t help but think: i look good today.

you did. your hair was in place, makeup light but elegant, lips tinted a faint nude-pink. polished. pretty. professional. but beneath all that... you also looked a little alone. not that anyone would say it to your face—but you could see it sometimes, in the glances people gave you. admiration, maybe. pity, sometimes. curiosity always.

you sat down, smoothing your skirt and adjusting your chair, reaching for the little yellow post-it you’d stuck to the side of your monitor the day before. your handwriting was neat, methodical. a short list of pending tasks, each one already being mentally checked off as you booted up your computer. you didn’t waste time—your fingers flew across the keyboard, and within minutes the familiar sounds of productivity filled your small corner of the office: the rhythmic clack of keys, the soft hum and spit of the printer warming up to spit out proposals and reports.

you didn’t hear him come in.

you were too deep in the flow, too focused on aligning the final report with the visual standards the company demanded. your eyes scanned the document line by line, searching for typos, ensuring everything was clean, sharp, presentable. the sound of footsteps behind you didn’t register until you felt it—that subtle, electric awareness that comes when someone is watching.

“good morning, byun. please leave the project report on my desk once it’s ready.”

he didn’t look at you. just passed by, smooth and quick, his voice calm and firm, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand, the familiar scent of roast beans and expensive cologne trailing behind him like a silent presence. his stride didn’t falter, his gaze fixed ahead, like he’d already moved on to the next ten things in his mind. you barely had time to nod, mouth parted to respond, but he was already disappearing behind his office door.

you blinked.

right. the report.

you gathered the last printed pages, slid them into the presentation folder, double-checked the order, smoothed the cover with your palm before rising from your seat. your heels clicked softly against the floor as you made your way down the short corridor, your fingers lightly tapping the edge of the folder, nerves tightening with each step even if there was nothing to be nervous about. it was just work. just jaehyun. just another report.

you knocked once and entered when he answered. he was seated behind his desk, sleeves already rolled up to his elbows, the dark veins of his forearms visible as he typed something on his laptop. he glanced up, briefly, then reached for the report when you held it out.

“thank you,” he said, flipping it open with precision, already scanning the contents. “at two p.m. we have the meeting with upper management. you’ll be joining me at the table. along with choi and hwang.”

you nodded. “understood.”

“good. go over the numbers one more time before then. they’re likely to ask.”

“yes, mr. jeong.”

and that was it. no warm smile. no thank you. just professional, cold efficiency. you turned and left, closing the door gently behind you before returning to your desk, the weight of the upcoming meeting settling on your shoulders like a familiar cloak. you’d been through this before. plenty of times. but it never got easier. not when the room was full of men in suits who barely hid their condescension, who chewed through ideas like tasteless gum until someone—usually jaehyun—said something smart enough to catch their interest.

you spent the next few hours fine-tuning the financial section, making sure your data was clean, graphs properly labeled, estimates realistic but still ambitious. it was a delicate game—making things sound innovative without actually suggesting anything too risky. they didn’t want bold. they wanted impressive illusions of boldness packaged in safe wrapping.

the meeting room was as bland as ever. too much glass, too much beige. you sat at the long table beside jaehyun, your laptop open, presentation ready. the managers arrived first, already complaining about another team’s failed prototype. the director entered last, stone-faced as always, his tie perfect, his opinion impossible to read.

as expected, the meeting dragged. they picked apart the proposal, paragraph by paragraph, expressionless until one of them grimaced like the very concept of originality offended them. you watched them, these men who nodded at each other but rarely smiled, who offered feedback that wasn’t feedback, just empty phrases like “it needs more punch” or “is this trend even scalable?”

then jaehyun spoke.

his voice was calm, slow, measured. and yet he made every single line sound convincing. powerful. like there was no other way forward but the one he was laying out. the room shifted around him. the tension eased. eyes narrowed—not in skepticism now, but interest. he wasn’t just presenting; he was selling a vision, and you felt yourself straightening with pride even if the credit wasn’t yours.

until he said your name.

“y/n,” he said, still facing the director. “if you could present the budget projections.”

you froze for a half second. not out of fear—just... surprise. you hadn’t expected him to call on you so soon.

you stood, smoothed your skirt unconsciously, and took a breath before switching slides. your voice was steady, even if your palms were clammy.

“these are the projections for the next two quarters,” you began, pointing at the chart. “we’ve estimated a moderate increase in cost during the development phase, with a break-even point projected for the beginning of q3. depending on the approved budget, we’re looking at a return on investment of approximately—”

you kept going, explaining the graphs, walking them through the numbers with careful clarity. no embellishments, no guesswork. facts. you swallowed once, clearing your throat before the final slide, then ended with a nod.

when you sat back down, jaehyun glanced at you. just a moment. a flicker of something almost soft in his expression.

like you’d done well. like you couldn’t possibly disappoint him.

the rest of the meeting blurred. the managers began tossing in extra suggestions—small changes, tweaks they hoped would impress the director. the man nodded, offered vague praise, and you remained at your seat, listening to it all with a practiced, patient expression.

when the meeting finally ended, you stood beside jaehyun again. he didn’t say much—he never did—but as he packed his laptop, he looked at you.

“good work today,” he said. “you’re an essential part of the team. if you keep this up, i’ll make sure your name’s considered for the upcoming promotions.”

you stared at him, momentarily stunned. the words hit harder than you expected. you’d worked for five years, given everything to this company, and this—this was the first time someone above you had said something that felt... real.

“thank you,” you said softly, trying not to let your smile get too big. “really.”

he nodded. “you earned it.”

later, when the director extended the dinner invitation, you didn’t hesitate. it wasn’t optional. the team needed to show up, needed to mingle, to pretend everything was a celebration and not an endless cycle of office politics masked with clinking glasses.

the bar was upscale but casual enough to loosen people’s ties. smoke from grilled meats hung faintly in the air, the tang of sweet sauces and roasted garlic filling the space. you sat between your supervisor and jaehyun, trying not to feel too stiff in your work clothes. everyone was drinking, toasting, laughing louder than they had all day.

the supervisor leaned forward, voice slightly slurred. “you know,” he said to the director, “the whole prototype? the mockup? the execution timeline? all her. y/n practically carried the whole thing.”

the director turned to you, surprised. “really? how long have you been here?”

“five years,” you replied, sipping from your glass.

he raised a brow. “how is it possible i haven’t noticed you until now?”

jaehyun, still beside you, said nothing—but you felt the subtle tension in his posture.

“you’ve got a good employee,” the director told him. “it’s your job to shape her. teach her. sounds like she’s already on the right path. with the right guidance... she’ll move up in no time.”

he raised his glass. “to y/n.”

“to y/n,” echoed around the table.

you lifted your glass, cheeks warm—not just from the alcohol but from the unfamiliar sensation of being seen. you smiled, surrounded by coworkers and approval and good food, and for a moment, just one moment, everything felt like it was finally going somewhere.

you were finally going somewhere.

the dinner had blurred into noise.

conversations overlapping, laughter rising and falling like tides. glasses clinked, meat sizzled on the grill, the warm lighting softening everyone's expressions into something hazy and unguarded. you sat at the long table, just a bit to the side, the smoky scent of barbecued meat in your hair and the echo of compliments still lingering in your chest. across from you, your supervisor had long since slipped into a drunken retelling of his glory days. to your left, jaehyun sat quietly, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. his arms were strong, veins defined even in the low light, and on his left wrist, a sleek, expensive watch glinted every time he reached for his glass. he hadn’t touched his soju in a while, though. he just held the rim between his fingers and occasionally let his gaze wander across the room.

when your eyes met, it was casual, almost accidental. but you didn’t look away.

“you’re not drinking,” you said, quietly enough that only he could hear.

he offered the ghost of a smirk, the kind that barely pulled at one corner of his mouth. “someone has to remember what was actually said tonight.”

you laughed, a soft breathy sound, grateful for his clarity amidst the chaos.

a silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. rather, it felt like a small space carved out just for the two of you—unbothered, untouched, a bubble where you didn’t have to keep smiling or pretending. you let out a quiet sigh, swirling your untouched drink in your hand.

“do you ever feel like you're running out of time?” you asked, voice low, not even sure why you were asking him of all people.

jaehyun looked at you, brows drawn slightly, intrigued but still calm. “time for what?”

you hesitated, fingers tightening around your glass. the alcohol was warm in your chest, but not enough to numb this confession.

“for everything,” you admitted. “i mean, professionally… things are going great. i can’t complain. i’ve worked hard, and it’s starting to pay off. but…” you looked down, lips pressing together. “sometimes i feel like i’m trapped inside a giant hourglass, watching the sand fall, grain by grain. i’ll be thirty in a few months. and i know that shouldn't mean anything, but in a world where people expect you to have everything figured out by now—marriage, kids, some picture-perfect life—i feel like i’m falling behind. like my dreams are moving farther and farther away.”

you took a breath, not daring to look at him.

“it’s just… sad,” you continued. “when you achieve something big and there’s no one waiting at home to celebrate it with you. no partner, no family. no one to say, ‘i’m proud of you.’”

jaehyun was quiet for a moment. then his voice came, soft and even.

“i can celebrate with you.”

you looked up, surprised, blinking at him. “thank you, but… that’s not what i meant. it’s not the same.”

he held your gaze. then, calmly, like he was offering a solution to a logistics problem, he said it.

“then marry me.”

your brain stalled.

you didn’t understand at first. maybe you misheard him. maybe he was joking, or drunk—except his voice hadn’t changed. his tone hadn’t wavered. your stomach dropped.

“…what?” you whispered.

“you want a family. you want someone to come home to. marry me.”

the words hung between you like smoke. absurd. unreal. your mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. you glanced around—everyone else was too busy laughing or slurring their next toast to notice what had just happened.

you leaned in slightly, voice tense and hushed. “mr.—jeong—what are you talking about? we don’t even know each other like that.”

“we know enough,” he said without blinking.

“we’ve never even had a real conversation outside of work until now.”

“so let’s have more,” he replied, as steady as always.

you felt like your heart was beating too loudly. “are you… are you seriously suggesting we get married?”

“i’m not suggesting it. i’m telling you i’d do it. if you said yes.”

you stared at him, at the cool detachment on his face, the quiet certainty in his voice, and felt your world tip on its axis.

he shrugged. “how long until you turn thirty?”

“…my birthday’s in november,” you muttered, the words escaping before you could even process them. “it’s april now. that’s seven months.”

jaehyun nodded slowly. “then you have seven months to decide.”

he finished his beer in one slow, final gulp. then he stood up, reaching into his wallet and placing a few bills under his empty glass. you were still frozen when he stepped beside you.

“i’ll take you home,” he said.

you tried to protest, voice stumbling over half-formed refusals. “you don’t have to—i can call a cab, really—”

he looked down at you, expression unreadable.

“that wasn’t a request. it’s your boss giving you a ride.”

and with that, he turned, waiting for you to follow. your legs felt heavy as you stood, your mind racing, still reeling from what had just happened. marry him? seven months? he was serious. he was actually serious.

you had no answers. only questions. and one man who had just offered you everything you’d spent your life pretending you didn’t need.

you didn’t sleep.

not really. you tossed and turned, arms flung across the bed one minute and buried under the covers the next. jaehyun’s words echoed in your skull like an intrusive melody, looping over and over again.

then marry me.

you have seven months to decide.

like some sort of countdown had been triggered.

you must have stared at your ceiling for hours, trying to make sense of what he meant—what it meant for you—and whether he’d been serious. but the worst part wasn’t the proposal. the worst part was how calm he’d been, how effortlessly he’d said it, and how easily he’d walked away afterward like it hadn’t upended your entire sense of self.

your alarm went off at seven, and you hit snooze five times. by the time you dragged yourself out of bed, you felt like your bones had aged a decade overnight. you put on your makeup with the heaviness of someone trying to erase exhaustion from the inside out—concealer, color corrector, foundation. you went over your under-eyes twice, then a third time. you looked like yourself, but blurry. off.

you arrived to work twenty minutes later than usual, which was already enough to earn a few raised brows. no one said anything, but they noticed. you noticed them noticing.

you sat at your desk and stared at your drawers, forgetting which one you kept the monthly reports in. your fingers shook slightly as you shuffled through folders, trying to find the stupid paperwork you'd seen a million times. a stack of them slipped from your grasp and scattered onto the floor like a metaphor. you groaned and crouched down to collect them, muttering under your breath. your brain still felt like it was swimming through molasses.

then—

“good morning.”

his voice. that casual, bored tone he always used in the office. neutral, even, no trace of anything buried beneath it. no sign that he’d ever said something as life-altering as what he’d said last night.

you startled so hard you hit your head on the underside of your desk.

“good—ouch!” you winced, clutching your scalp with one hand and your pride with the other. “good morning, mr. jeong.”

he kept walking. didn’t glance down at you. didn’t smirk. didn’t check if you were okay. he passed your desk like any other morning, like he hadn’t proposed to you over beer and smoke and shared loneliness.

a few coworkers peeked over their partitions, concerned. you gave a shaky thumbs-up and a whispered, “i’m fine,” even though you felt anything but fine.

you weren’t like this. not at work. not ever. your name was synonymous with precision. discipline. control. and here you were, dropping papers and bumping into furniture like your brain had short-circuited.

you finally gathered the reports and brought them to his office.

he was seated at his desk, focused on his screen, the sleeves of his dress shirt still rolled to his elbows. your eyes caught briefly on the line of his forearm, the watch still there, still ticking.

“these are the reports from last month,” you said, setting the folder down.

“thanks,” he replied without looking at you.

you lingered.

“mr. jeong.”

he finally looked up.

his eyes were calm. cool. like nothing was wrong. like he hadn’t detonated a bomb and walked away from the wreckage.

you hesitated, your throat dry. “about what you said last night—”

his expression didn’t change.

“we’re at work,” he said simply. “i’m being professional.”

you blinked, almost offended. “so that’s it? you say something that insane and then just—go back to normal?”

“we’ll talk after work,” he said, returning to his screen. “if you want to.”

you stood there, gripping the folder even though it was already out of your hands, heart thudding with something sour and hot and unnamable. frustration? humiliation? confusion? all of it?

he was treating you like you were the one out of line. like you were being inappropriate for even bringing it up.

you turned around without saying anything else and walked out of his office, pulse hammering in your ears. the rest of the day dragged like wet cement. you couldn’t concentrate. you couldn’t remember what you were supposed to be doing half the time. you reread emails four times before hitting send. and every time someone walked past your desk, you wondered if it was him, if he’d say anything, if he’d look at you, if he even remembered what he said or if the memory of it belonged to you alone now.

you’d never felt so out of control.

you didn’t know what was worse—his silence or the fact that you wanted him to break it.

you tried to focus. god, you really did. you stared at spreadsheets until the numbers blurred into static. you answered emails with words you didn’t remember typing. every time the phone rang, your heart jumped, irrationally convinced it might be him—even though you were in the same building, separated by maybe thirty feet of glass, air, and unspoken tension. it felt like the longest day of your life. your temples throbbed with a slow, building ache, like your thoughts were pressing too hard against the inside of your skull.

you popped two painkillers around lunchtime, washed them down with lukewarm water from your reusable bottle, but they didn’t help. not really. because the pain wasn’t just physical—it was mental. emotional. a kind of pressure that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed.

your mind wouldn’t shut up.

you kept looping the same questions, over and over again, like your brain was stuck on a carousel with no exit.

why would he say that? why now? why you?

he already told you he'd wait. seven months. seven impossibly long, slow-burning months.

so why talk? why meet? it wasn’t for him. it didn’t serve him. he’d been clear. he had time, he had patience. this conversation—it was for you. you were the one desperate to make sense of it. to understand his motives. to justify the insanity of it all.

but how were you supposed to justify something that made no sense?

he’s twenty-seven. handsome. polished. wealthy. he could have anyone—literally anyone. girls younger than you, brighter than you, women who weren’t crawling toward their thirties with a fading list of half-achieved dreams and a fridge full of takeout leftovers. why you?

a mid-level employee in a department no one paid much attention to. someone who had to fight tooth and nail just to be noticed in board meetings. someone who had accomplishments but no one to toast with. someone who fell asleep most nights with their phone face-down and on silent because no one was texting anyway.

why you?

you didn’t have an answer.

you finished your tasks—barely—and the moment the clock hit the end of your shift, you shut your computer down with shaky fingers and grabbed your bag. your steps felt heavy, reluctant, as you made your way through the hall toward the entrance. part of you wanted to bolt, to pretend nothing had ever been said, to go home and crawl into bed and put on a show you wouldn’t really watch. to sleep off the confusion like a bad hangover.

but the doors opened before you could entertain the thought. those clean, automatic glass doors slid apart with a hiss, and there he was.

leaning casually against one of the white pillars just outside, his suit jacket draped neatly over his forearm, his other hand gripping his sleek black briefcase like it weighed nothing. he looked like something out of a commercial—well-dressed, composed, the perfect image of success. but when his eyes met yours, something flickered beneath the surface. maybe restraint. maybe tension. maybe nothing.

he walked toward you calmly, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the smooth tile.

“get in the car,” he said, voice even. “we’re going to talk. like you wanted.”

not a question. not a request.

he turned without waiting for your answer and made his way to a parked luxury sedan—shiny, deep black, windows tinted so dark you could barely see the interior. he opened the passenger door for you, as if the conversation that waited inside was just another part of his routine.

you hesitated, only for a second.

but then you followed.

because no matter how messy your thoughts were, no matter how terrified or confused or unworthy you felt, one truth cut through the noise:

you wanted to know.

you slid into the passenger seat, trying to calm the way your heart was sprinting inside your chest. the door closed beside you with a quiet thunk, sealing you into a space you weren’t sure you were ready for.

he walked around the front of the car and got in behind the wheel, smooth and unhurried.

you stared straight ahead.

ready—or not—to finally ask the questions that wouldn’t leave you alone.

the silence in the car wasn’t uncomfortable. not exactly. but it was dense—like fog inside your chest, heavy and silent and there to stay.

you stared out the window as the city drifted past, familiar buildings made foreign by the storm in your head. beside you, jaehyun drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift. there was music playing—low, jazzy, old—but he didn’t speak. not until you passed a traffic light and he tilted his head, casually.

“did you get enough sleep last night?” he asked, like he was commenting on the weather.

you didn’t look at him. “not really.”

“figured,” he said, turning smoothly into another avenue. “you looked like hell.”

you gave a humorless chuckle, resting your elbow against the door and propping your chin in your hand. “thanks for the compliment, sir.”

“anytime,” he said dryly.

and that was it. that was all the small talk he offered. nothing personal. nothing intimate. just an acknowledgment that he saw you. that he’d noticed.

the drive was short, and before you could make sense of anything, you were already parking in front of a modest little korean restaurant tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore. it smelled like steam, garlic, and simmered bone broth. a place where people went for real food and no-frills comfort.

“this place has the best gomguk in the city,” jaehyun said, grabbing his briefcase from the back. “been coming here since i was a teenager.”

you hesitated at the door. “you like bone soup?”

“love it.”

you wrinkled your nose. “i can’t stand that stuff. never could. not even as a kid.”

he paused mid-step and gave you a look, slightly amused. “well,” he said, “there’s our first disagreement as a couple.”

you blinked at him, caught off guard. “what?”

“now i know you don’t like gomguk. guess i’ll have to avoid cooking it for you.”

you said nothing.

because he wasn’t joking. not really. not entirely. and that was the part that made your mouth dry.

how could he say things like that so easily? so naturally? as if you hadn’t spent the entire day unraveling at the seams while he strutted through the office like nothing had happened?

he sat across from you at the table, unbothered, scanning the menu like it wasn’t even necessary. he already knew what he wanted. meanwhile, you still didn’t know why you were there.

you picked something else. kimchi jjigae, maybe—safe, familiar, strong enough to mask the taste of your confusion.

once the server took your orders and disappeared behind the curtain, you leaned forward, folding your hands together to stop them from trembling.

“why me?”

his eyes lifted slowly from the empty table to your face. “there’s no reason,” he said. “i just want to give you what you want.”

“do you say that to all women?”

he smirked. “if i did, i’d probably be married to half the city by now.”

you shook your head. “don’t do that.”

“do what?”

“don’t treat this like a mission,” you snapped, trying not to raise your voice. “i don’t need your pity. i shared something vulnerable with you, yeah. but that doesn’t mean you have to swoop in and rescue me from a miserable life of solitude by offering a ring. this isn’t some fairytale. i don’t need a man to save me.”

“i never said you did.”

you exhaled slowly. “i want to love and be loved. to build something. something real. not this... whatever this is. a contract. a deal. a deadline to escape loneliness.”

his expression didn’t shift. not a single flicker. but his voice softened.

“then let’s say this. if in seven months, you still haven’t found someone—someone who makes you feel like you can build something... try it with me.”

you stared at him. hard. trying to read every intention in the lines of his face.

“just like that?”

“just like that.”

you couldn’t look away.

and then he said it. the words that settled into the cracks of your resolve like warm rain after a drought.

“we can love. i can love you. you can love me, if you want to. if you want to date, we can date. you don’t have to feel pressured. i just think... you’re worth the risk. and i don’t think you should torture yourself every day that passes just because you haven’t ‘settled down.’ opportunities don’t always come twice. sometimes you have to grab them while they’re here. or regret it forever.”

your lips parted, but nothing came out.

you looked at him then—not as the cold, polished man who walked the halls like a ghost in tailored suits. not as your boss. not as someone who confused and overwhelmed you.

you saw him as a man.

a man who knew what he wanted. who wasn’t afraid to take action. who looked you in the eye and offered you something you weren’t even sure you deserved.

his jawline. his eyes. the little wrinkle between his brows when he got serious. the calm way he listened. the confidence. the clarity.

you saw him differently.

you weren’t ready to give him an answer. not yet.

but something inside you had shifted.

you just didn’t know what to call it.

he didn’t rush you.

he didn’t push.

he just sat there across from you in that tiny booth, his sleeves rolled up and his tie slightly loosened, waiting with the kind of quiet confidence that only made your heart beat louder. he stirred his soup gently, letting it cool, occasionally taking a sip without ever looking away from you for too long.

and then he said it—casually, as if proposing something as simple as lunch next week.

“let’s do this. i’ll pick you up after work from now on. we’ll go out. have dinner. spend time together. see what happens. let it unfold naturally.”

just like that.

your breath caught. “i… i have doubts,” you admitted, almost in a whisper. “i don’t know what to say. i don’t know what to feel. this is all so sudden, so... fast.”

he nodded, unbothered. “that’s okay.”

you blinked. “that’s okay?”

“yes. it’s not a race. but you heard what i said—opportunities don’t always knock twice. you don’t have to say yes right now. just think about it.”

but you were thinking. too much.

his voice played on repeat in your mind: we can love. i can love you. you can love me. and god, wasn’t that the exact thing you’d been terrified of never having?

your fingers trembled under the table. your palms clammy, your mouth dry. you rubbed your hands together slowly, grounding yourself in that simple motion, trying to breathe.

he didn’t flinch. didn’t ask again. just kept sipping his soup, patient as stone, like he’d already accepted whatever answer you’d give him.

you stared at your food, at the steam rising, the way the aroma filled the space between you and him like something sacred. you still couldn’t stand bone soup. but somehow, being across from him made it smell less... offensive. less like something to run from.

and you remembered.

all those nights crying in silence.

all those mornings brushing your teeth with tears stuck in your throat because you didn’t know if ever would come.

ever finding someone.

ever being enough.

ever being loved without begging for it.

maybe he wasn’t what you imagined.

maybe he was better.

you looked up at him.

“okay,” you said, softly. then stronger. “okay. i’ll try. i’ll let you pick me up. we’ll go on these dates. maybe… maybe i can love you. maybe i can let myself be loved by you.”

he paused mid-sip, eyes lifting.

your voice cracked slightly when you added, “maybe i can stay with you.”

for a beat, the world went still.

he didn’t smile wide. didn’t gloat or tease.

he just gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. his eyes warm, deep, but controlled—like someone who’d been expecting this moment and didn’t want to scare it off.

“good,” he said. “that’s all i needed.”

you swallowed hard.

and for the first time since that strange proposal, something in your chest loosened.

you weren’t sure if this was love.

but it was a beginning.

the next morning. everything is different.

you walk into the building like you own the damn place—heels sharp, suit immaculate, makeup clean and fierce, ponytail slicked high like a crown. the memory of yesterday—your stumble, your throbbing head, your wandering thoughts—now felt like a distant, irrelevant dream. that wasn’t you. this was.

a woman who knew what she wanted.

a woman who said yes.

you smiled to yourself in the elevator. not just any smile—that kind. the kind that curled at the corners, the kind that held secrets, the kind that felt like sin dressed in silk. the kind that belonged to someone with a man waiting outside a restaurant, ordering bone broth, and talking about love like it was something simple. doable. inevitable.

you were early. again. not by accident this time, but by choice.

you slid into your desk, organized, efficient, present. the hum of the office hadn’t started yet, and you took advantage of the calm, catching up on reports and scheduling the week like the good girl you were trained to be. but this time, it was different. you weren’t surviving the day. you were anticipating it.

and then—at exactly the hour—he walked in.

jung jaehyun.

same black suit. same silver watch. same air of cool detachment.

but today, when he passed by your desk and muttered his usual, “good morning,” you didn’t just nod like before.

you stood up—too fast.

too happy.

“good morning, mr. jeong!” you sang, voice lilting and almost musical, like you’d just won the lottery.

it was instinctual. not calculated. just... you.

the entire floor stopped.

heads turned.

some eyebrows shot up. a few eyes narrowed.

jaehyun himself halted in his tracks, looking back at you slowly, his brows drawn together in the tiniest frown. he cleared his throat.

“everyone, back to work,” he said, voice firm. and then, after one last look—eyes narrowed at you in something between confusion and amusement—he turned and walked away.

you bit your lip so hard it almost hurt, barely suppressing the giggle building in your throat.

the memory of last night echoed in your mind, maybe i can love you, maybe i can stay with you—and now here you were, trying not to beam like a teenager with a crush. you watched his back disappear into his office, and your lips curled up, despite yourself.

you could still feel his eyes on you. even if he wasn’t looking.

after work, you waited by the entrance as the glass doors slid open.

he was already there—like he promised. leaning casually against his car, black coat folded over one arm, briefcase in hand, gaze scanning the horizon like the perfect ceo out of a drama. but as soon as his eyes met yours, they softened—barely, subtly—but you noticed.

“get in,” he said, opening the passenger door for you.

you slipped in without protest, heart beating faster than it had any right to.

once the car pulled away from the curb, the silence settled—but it didn’t last long.

“you can’t do that,” he said, not harshly, just... firm.

“do what?” you asked, knowing damn well.

“greet me like that. like that.” he glanced at you sideways. “at work.”

you shrugged. “what? we’re dating now. aren’t we?”

“we’re seeing where this goes,” he corrected. “but we still have to be professional. people talk. your position can be affected. and mine—”

you cut in, not harshly but with a certain fire. “i’m not going to apologize for being happy.”

“i’m not asking you to apologize.”

“then don’t ask me to pretend. i’ll dial it down, sure. but i’m not going to act like you don’t mean something to me when we’re under the same roof eight hours a day.”

he stayed quiet for a beat, tapping the wheel with one hand, lips twitching like he was trying not to smile.

“is this how you are with all your boyfriends?”

you grinned. “i’m worse.”

he laughed. actually laughed. that deep, velvet sound you hadn’t heard much outside of formalities.

“well, i’ll brace myself,” he said. “i might enjoy it.”

you turned to the window, hiding your smile. this was really happening.

the drive back was quiet at first—a comfortable silence that didn’t demand immediate conversation. the kind of quiet that says: you don’t need to perform, just exist here with me.

the radio was on. a soft playlist of english ballads played in the background—songs about longing, beginnings, maybe even second chances. you doubted jaehyun picked them himself. it was probably just the algorithm. still, the timing felt so precise… so intentional, that you wondered if the universe was helping him out tonight.

you played with your fingers over your thighs, crossing and uncrossing your legs slowly, watching the night pass outside the window. city lights in the distance. trees swaying softly in the wind. you tried to guess where he was taking you next, but the truth was… you didn’t really care.

not knowing was part of the charm.

“where are we going?” you finally asked, unable to resist the curiosity.

he smiled without turning to look at you, eyes steady on the road ahead.

“it’s a secret,” he said. “you’ll have to wait and see.”

you squinted at him with mock suspicion, amused—and yet, inside, your heart started to thump a little faster with every mile.

there was something strangely beautiful about not being in control this time. about letting yourself be taken somewhere, not out of submission, but out of trust. you weren’t used to that. you weren’t used to letting anyone drive. but tonight, you wanted to believe you could lean back and just... be.

and then… the car turned down a dark, barely lit road, and you saw it.

a wide, open lot. a giant projector screen glowing at the far end. dozens of cars parked in neat rows, some with trunks open, fairy lights, blankets, snacks. couples curled together under the stars.

it was a drive-in movie. like something out of an old romance film.

you gasped, both hands flying to your mouth as you turned to him.

“oh my god. no way. are you serious?! i love the movies—but i've never done this. i’ve always wanted to, but… i don’t know. it just never happened.”

jaehyun glanced at you sideways. and this time, he smiled. really smiled. not the polite, composed smile he wore in the hallways or meetings—but something warm. something real.

“then it was a good idea,” he said simply.

he parked in the middle row. good view of the screen, but far enough for privacy. you were already melting—and then he popped the trunk.

a thick blanket. two small pillows. a tote bag with snacks—popcorn, a big soda bottle, even the exact chocolate bars you’d once said you liked during a random, probably drunk, late-night conversation. you didn’t even remember mentioning it.

he did.

“did you plan all of this?” you asked, curled slightly sideways in the passenger seat while he arranged everything with care between you.

“i just wanted you to be comfortable,” he said. “i wanted it to be... special.”

no posturing. no hidden motive. just sincerity. you felt it in the way he unfolded the blanket and draped it gently over your lap. in how he checked the window—cracked just enough to let in the breeze, not enough to let in the cold. In how he handed you the soda first, before even opening his own drink.

the movie started. some lighthearted rom-com with ridiculous dialogue and cheesy plot points, but it didn’t matter. it was perfect. low-stakes. no pressure. you curled your legs under you, blanket snug, the flickering light from the screen dancing across your skin.

every once in a while, you’d glance at jaehyun. and more than once, you caught him watching you instead of the film.

“are you bored?” you whispered.

“not even close.”

“you haven’t laughed once.”

he turned to you, that sarcastic little smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth, eyes narrowed just slightly.

“you’re already making enough noise for the both of us.”

you gave him a playful slap on the arm, pretending to be offended.

“that was a compliment,” he added, amused.

you rolled your eyes—but smiled. god, you smiled so much that night.

as the credits rolled, something shifted in the silence. the mood thickened—not heavy, just… deeper. weighted with something. a moment hanging on the edge of change. your head leaned against the window as the screen dimmed, your eyes distant but your heart so very full.

he still didn’t touch you.

he didn’t grab your hand. didn’t lean in.

but his presence wrapped around you all the same—solid, patient, waiting. not pushing, just there. learning how to be near you without demanding anything in return.

“thank you,” you said softly, voice almost too quiet to hear. “for this. for everything.”

“you don’t have to thank me.”

“yes, i do. it’s not every day someone goes out of their way like this.”

he paused before answering. his tone was steady, but low.

“i want this to work,” he said. “and if that means planning teenage-level dates with blankets and popcorn, then… yeah. i’ll do that.”

you laughed, eyes dropping to your lap.

“you’re doing well so far.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

and then you looked at each other. just looked. no words needed.

but inside… you felt it.

your shoulders, usually tense, were light. your heart, bruised and cautious for so long, was opening again. quietly, but surely. as if whispering, i’m still here. i still want to believe.

you weren’t sure where this would go. if it would last. if it would end in tears or something worse.

but right now, in his car, under the stars, with the last notes of the film still echoing through your skin…

you wanted to find out.

you wanted to try.

the next morning at the office felt different—less chaotic, more grounded. you greeted the receptionist with a small smile, your heels clicking softly against the marble floor as you made your way in, clutching your coffee cup like a security blanket. you weren't glowing, exactly, but something about you was… softer. less guarded. like a petal finally relaxing in the warmth of spring after a too-long winter.

jaehyun noticed immediately.

you caught him watching you from the glass-walled conference room as you entered the bullpen. he didn't stare, not in a way that would make it obvious to others—but his eyes followed you, just long enough to clock the change. your navy blue pencil skirt hugged your hips, the slit in the back offering just the right amount of grace as you walked. the cream blouse you wore was modest but elegant, the top button left undone, showing the delicate line of your collarbone. your hair was half-up, your makeup minimal, professional—but the gloss on your lips and the quiet shimmer on your eyelids betrayed a whisper of mischief. not overt. just enough for someone paying attention.

you met his gaze briefly through the glass and raised your brows in a silent hello before looking away, sipping your coffee with forced nonchalance.

by the time you crossed paths an hour later—both of you heading into a smaller briefing room—he gave you that look again. the one that asked, really? amused, but faintly disbelieving.

"good morning, mr. jeong," you greeted him politely, eyes straight ahead as if you hadn't spent the last night wrapped in his blanket, watching a movie with your legs tangled under it.

"miss y/l/n," he replied, his lips curving into a knowing smile as he held the door open for you. “very formal today.”

you didn’t rise to the bait. just gave him a brief, professional smile and walked past, heels clicking, not looking back. you were committed to the bit.

the meeting was brief, technical—a review of deliverables, some feedback loops, nothing out of the ordinary. you contributed where you needed to, kept your tone measured, avoided lingering glances. even when he made a rare joke and the room chuckled, you only allowed yourself a small, polite laugh, hands folded neatly on the table.

he didn’t push. but when you passed each other near the coffee station later, his voice dropped low, just enough for you to hear.

“you’re really leaning into the whole executive assistant with boundaries thing, huh?”

you smirked as you refilled your mug, still not looking at him. “just trying to keep things professional, mr. jeong.”

“of course.” he nodded once, pretending to adjust his tie. “wouldn’t want to cross any lines.”

you bit your lip to suppress your grin. the game was on.

at 3:47 PM, your phone lit up with a text from his office number: meeting with the department heads in fifteen. boardroom. don’t be late. signed J.J.

you rolled your eyes but your stomach did a little flip.

the 4 PM meeting dragged—there was a lot of back and forth over campaign numbers and rollout schedules, but you held your own, taking notes, speaking clearly when your insight was needed. you could feel jaehyun watching you when others weren’t—his gaze warm, grounding—but he didn’t speak to you directly unless it was related to the discussion. you appreciated that. It let you stay in control, let you breathe.

after everyone had trickled out and the room was quiet, you stayed behind a moment, closing your laptop and straightening the chairs without a word. he didn’t move from his seat at the head of the table, just watched you as you moved, his fingers idly spinning a pen.

“dinner?” he asked eventually, breaking the silence.

you didn’t look up right away. “are you asking as mr. jeong or...?”

he tilted his head, eyes playful. “just jaehyun.”

you looked up, meeting his eyes. something flickered between you—recognition. of the past few days, the softness in your chest, the way your shoulders had finally stopped bracing for disappointment.

“okay,” you said quietly. “dinner.”

he didn’t take you to a fancy restaurant or anywhere showy. just a quiet little rooftop place downtown, dim lights and mellow music, open air and the sound of the city below. you sat across from him at a small table, knees brushing under the surface. you shared dishes, laughed softly, talked about nothing and everything. he asked about your childhood; you asked about his first heartbreak. there was no rush to get anywhere. just being there—together—was enough.

at some point, after dessert and a second glass of wine, the conversation quieted. the city stretched around you, glittering and alive. jaehyun leaned back in his chair, watching you.

at some point, after dessert and a second glass of wine, the conversation quieted. the city stretched around you, glittering and alive. jaehyun leaned back in his chair, watching you with that open expression he reserved for moments like this—unguarded, gently curious.

“you said you grew up outside the city,” he said, casually swirling the remnants of his drink. “what about your parents?”

you set your fork down and rested your elbows lightly on the table, exhaling. “they still live in the same town. a couple hours from here.”

he nodded. “siblings?”

“one,” you replied. “older brother. married. two little boys.”

jaehyun smiled at that. “you’re the cool aunt.”

you laughed softly, the sound bittersweet. “i try. i send them stickers and weird snacks from the city. but i think i’m mostly the mysterious aunt who lives alone in seoul and doesn’t have a husband, which is a major point of concern for my parents.”

jaehyun raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “concern?”

“oh, huge.” you leaned back, crossing your arms with a mock-serious nod. “they think i’m one heartbreak away from crawling back into my childhood bedroom with a suitcase and giving up entirely. i get the same call every weekend—‘have you met someone yet?’ and ‘when are you coming home, sweetheart?’ like my single status is a national emergency.”

you smiled, tried to make it sound light. funny. but the knot in your chest tugged a little tighter with each word. because underneath the teasing tone, it hurt. the weight of expectation, of having let them down without really meaning to. you’d always thought, by now, you’d have that picture-perfect family. a husband. maybe a child. but life had taken its own sharp turns, and somewhere along the way, you'd lost the map.

before your thoughts could spiral too far inward, you turned your eyes toward him and asked, “what about you? any siblings?”

he shook his head. “only child.”

“wow. that explains the drama,” you teased.

he grinned, playing along. “what drama?”

you shrugged, playful. “the perfectly tousled hair. the quiet confidence. the whole mysterious boss with a tragic past vibe.”

jaehyun laughed, the sound low and warm. “nothing tragic, thankfully. my parents own a condo complex back in busan. they keep to themselves. ever since i moved out, they’ve stayed out of my decisions. no guilt trips. no blind dates.”

he smirked a little, taking another sip. “which is great for me.”

you smiled at that, but there was something about the way he said it—casual, yes, but laced with a kind of loneliness you recognized. the kind that came with being left alone a little too much. with being successful but still carrying a shadow no one quite asked about.

you watched him for a second longer than necessary. then nodded slowly. “that does sound kind of great.”

he looked at you then, really looked, and the silence between you shifted—deeper now. heavy with things not said.

the city hummed around you. glasses clinked from other tables. somewhere, a violinist was playing faintly near the street below. but you only heard the soft cadence of his breath, the way it matched your own.

and then he stood and offered you his hand.

you didn’t hesitate this time. you let him lead you to the edge of the rooftop, where the view was clearer, the air colder. your arms brushed as you looked out together, shoulder to shoulder, warm skin against cool wind.

he turned to you first, eyes darker now, thoughtful. “you don’t need to rush anything. marriage, or whatever they want from you. you’re… okay. just as you are.”

you looked at him slowly, your heart caught somewhere between gratitude and ache. “thanks,” you whispered. “sometimes i forget.”

he stepped closer—barely—but it was enough to make your breath hitch.

you met his gaze, and something shifted between you again. tighter. stronger. the kind of tension that doesn’t demand to be broken, only… felt.

he leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. you didn’t.

your lips met his softly, a single, tentative kiss that carried the full weight of everything left unspoken. sweet, searching, the kind of kiss that says i see you. that says stay.

and when you pulled back, your eyes didn’t dart away.

they lingered.

because something had begun. and neither of you was pretending anymore.

there was no big speech. no sudden declarations.

just the quiet gravity of this moment. the closeness. the way his eyes searched yours with a gentleness that made your breath catch.

april melted into may in soft, golden increments—like a candle burning slow at both ends. the weather grew gentler, the evenings warmer, and with each passing day, your relationship with jaehyun unraveled in small, tender pieces that neither of you rushed to name.

you had more dinners together. nothing extravagant—he wasn’t the kind to impress with grand gestures—but always thoughtful. ramen tucked away in a quiet corner shop with mismatched stools. a spontaneous detour after a work meeting that led to an art gallery’s closing hour. coffee at a tiny cafe with mismatched mugs and jazz playing softly from a dusty speaker. with every outing, something softened between you. the way you spoke to each other, the way you lingered a second longer when saying goodbye, the way your eyes found his in a crowded room and stayed there.

still, at work, everything remained perfectly composed. restrained. you never touched, never called him anything but mr. jeong. no one suspected a thing—and that secrecy gave it all the thrill of something sacred. childish almost. like passing notes under a desk. a shared joke disguised in a spreadsheet. your fingers grazing when you exchanged documents. a glance too long in the breakroom when he poured your coffee before you even asked. you could feel it in the air, that charged silence of two people pretending to be just colleagues, and failing quietly, deliciously.

the project itself was moving well—smooth timelines, promising data. it gave you an excuse to spend more time in his office, laptop open across from his, sometimes both of you too focused to speak for long stretches. sometimes one of you talking while the other typed, nodding with half-listening affection. sometimes, on the slow days, the lines between work and personal conversation blurred gently, like ink on damp paper.

today was one of those days.

you sat across from him, legs crossed under the conference table, scrolling through performance reports while he adjusted a chart on his screen. outside the windows, the afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting pale lines across the carpet and the sleeves of his shirt. he leaned back, stretching slightly, then caught your gaze with a small smile.

“so…” he said, voice lower than usual, “what are you doing this weekend?”

you glanced up, biting your lip to hide a smile. “why? do you need me to run more numbers?”

“maybe,” he said, teasing. “but i was thinking something less tragic. maybe the museum? or that poetry cafe you mentioned.”

you shrugged, trying to sound casual. “depends. are you asking as mr. jeong or as… jaehyun?”

he smirked, eyes playful. “i guess that depends on your answer.”

you were about to respond when the door opened without a knock. both of you sat up straighter instinctively, like students caught passing notes. the supervisor from the analytics division stepped in, scanning the room with barely concealed curiosity.

“mr. jeong,” he said, tone clipped, “the director wants to see you.”

jaehyun stood immediately, buttoning his jacket with an easy nod. “i’ll be there in a moment.”

the supervisor looked at you then. his eyes lingered—not long, but long enough. something unreadable passed over his face. “you’ve been spending a lot of time here,” he said, like it wasn’t a question.

you gave him your most neutral smile. “just supporting the project. we’re on a tight schedule.”

“mm.” he said nothing more, just nodded once and stepped out.

jaehyun glanced at you before leaving, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe. or quiet warning. you went back to your laptop, fingers pretending to type while your heart tried to calm its sudden gallop.

the evening found you both in his car again. the sun had already begun its descent, turning the sky a soft shade of apricot. you slid into the passenger seat, closed the door behind you, and without thinking too much, leaned over to kiss his cheek.

his skin was warm under your lips.

he blinked, clearly caught off guard, and for a second, he forgot to hide it. the tips of his ears flushed red. he cleared his throat and reached for the ignition, like nothing happened, but his smile lingered, crooked and faint.

“you keep doing that,” he murmured, not looking at you.

“doing what?” you asked innocently.

he shook his head, eyes on the road. “making it hard to pretend we’re not dating.”

you grinned and didn’t answer.

he drove you to the han river, where the breeze was cool and kind, and the crowds were light enough to feel private. you sat cross-legged on the grass, sharing tteokbokki and fried dumplings from paper trays, watching cyclists blur past under the lamplights. a small speaker nearby played an old ballad, sweet and melancholic, and you leaned into his shoulder without needing permission.

“i like this,” you said softly.

“what part?” he asked.

“this part. where everything’s… quiet.”

he didn’t speak immediately. just reached over and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“me too.”

you looked at him, really looked—and it hit you in that moment how far you’d come. from formal greetings and polite distance to soft laughter and shared silence. from stolen glances to kisses on the cheek that left him blushing.

and somehow, without realizing it, you’d stopped keeping count of how many times you thought about him during the day. because now he was part of your days.

and you didn’t want to imagine them without him anymore.

june arrived with a subtle shift in rhythm—projects moved faster, deadlines drew closer, and the sun stayed longer in the sky. the office felt heavier in the afternoons, warm with late spring air and the quiet hum of new beginnings.

one of those beginnings came in the form of kim jungwoo.

he was transferred from the incheon branch—a bright-eyed analyst with quick wit and a laugh that filled corners. you were told he'd be supporting the data team, and since your department handled most of the projections, he was placed right in front of your desk, where your eyes met every time you looked up. your first impression of him was that he was disarmingly charming—too friendly, too easygoing for the stiff, quiet culture of the office—but undeniably efficient. he asked questions that made sense, learned fast, and had a way of easing tension with a joke delivered just under his breath.

you kept things professional, as always. showed him how you sorted the quarterly metrics, how to navigate the company’s outdated database system without crashing it, how to color-code your sheets for easier reading. he listened, smiled, nodded. and eventually, he joked. made you laugh when you’d been staring at the same budget chart for hours. brought you coffee with your name scribbled on the lid in dramatic calligraphy. sometimes too much, sometimes exactly what you needed.

you liked him. platonically. comfortably. it was easy to like jungwoo.

but jaehyun noticed. of course he did.

at first, it was subtle. he’d call you into his office more frequently, asking for reports he usually didn’t request until later in the week. you didn’t think much of it—until you realized he was keeping you in there for hours. even when the topic had already run dry, even when both of you were silently pretending to still be discussing something relevant. you’d glance at your watch, mumble about needing to check on jungwoo’s progress, and jaehyun would give you this look—tight-lipped, unreadable, almost irritated.

the third time it happened, you couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“are you seriously going to keep me hostage in your office every time jungwoo asks me a question?” you asked, laptop balanced on your knees, arms crossed.

jaehyun didn’t answer right away. he leaned back in his chair, one hand draped lazily over the armrest, watching you. but there was tension under his cool expression, the kind that coiled in his jaw.

“you’re my girlfriend” he said, voice low, measured. “even if we have to act like colleagues in this building, you’re not just anyone to me.”

your breath caught. not because of what he said—because of the way he said it. with that sharp, quiet certainty, like it wasn’t up for debate.

“you’re jealous,” you muttered, trying to smile, to turn it into something lighter.

“of course i’m jealous,” he said, leaning forward. “he’s new, he’s charming, and he’s looking at you like he already knows what you taste like.”

your face flushed.

you looked away, but only for a second.

because when you met his eyes again, he stood.

in two strides he was in front of you, taking the laptop gently from your knees and setting it on the coffee table without a word. then he cupped your face with both hands and kissed you—deep, slow, and hungry. there was nothing tentative about it. it wasn’t sweet or shy. it was possession, poured soft and molten through the shape of his mouth on yours. you sighed into it, hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulse thudding in your throat.

he pulled away just enough to speak, voice rough. “don’t tease me about this.”

you nodded, breathless. “okay.”

and then he kissed you again.

the kiss tasted like all the things you weren’t allowed to say out loud. frustration. longing. the ache of pretending, day after day, that you were only what the world let you be. his thumb stroked your jaw as his mouth opened against yours, deeper now, slower. you felt your knees weaken and your thoughts scatter, all logic melting into the heat of the moment.

that night, like every night since the start of your secret, you met him outside the office. his car waited at the edge of the lot, tinted windows and the soft thump of quiet music playing through the speakers. you slid into the passenger seat, your heart already dancing.

this time, he didn’t say hello.

he reached over and kissed you—harder than before, lips parting yours in a way that made your body sing. the car wasn’t moving. neither of you were thinking. you kissed like it was all you knew how to do. mouths hungry, breath shallow, his hand tracing the edge of your thigh just enough to make you gasp. every time you pulled away for air, he followed. every time he groaned into your kiss, you shivered.

he never rushed.

never crossed that line you hadn’t yet spoken about.

but you felt how close it hovered. just under the skin.

and as your lips brushed his one last time before pulling back, your forehead resting against his, you whispered, “i like it when you get jealous.”

his smile was crooked. dangerous.

“you better not like it too much,” he said, his thumb stroking the corner of your mouth, “because next time… i might not let you leave so easily.”

thursday crept in quietly, with no big plans or messages of anticipation. the city, usually loud and hungry for excitement, felt unusually tame that week—like it had spent itself on too many events, too many evenings out, too many people chasing novelty in crowded cafés and rooftop bars. maybe it was just you, though. maybe everything had started to feel dull because your world had shifted to revolve around something—someone—entirely new. and nothing outside of that circle could compare anymore.

you barely spent time in your apartment lately. always out. always in his car, in places that weren’t quite home but felt more real because he was there. so on that afternoon, with your head tilted against the cold surface of your desk and your brain spinning from spreadsheets, you blurted it out between quiet keyboard taps.

“don’t make any plans tomorrow night.”

jaehyun glanced at you from across his office, pen in hand, eyebrows drawn. “should i be worried?”

you smiled without looking up. “you’re staying over. the weekend. at my place.”

the pause was heavy. not uncomfortable, but... loaded. you didn’t dare lift your head until he spoke.

“wait—what?”

and there it was. you looked at him finally, biting your bottom lip to keep from smiling too wide. he looked stunned. genuinely caught off guard.

“you heard me. pack a bag. pajamas. toothbrush. snacks. i don’t know. whatever you need to survive two days with me.”

his face went red. a deep, rich pink that spread across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. you laughed. he was thinking things.

“ya, what were you imagining?” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him with a smirk.

“nothing!” he defended too fast. “i just... i didn’t expect we’d be spending the weekend... alone like that. it’s not a bad thing. i like it. i like the idea. i just—i mean, we’ve been doing great. this relationship. it feels good. real. and... if it keeps going like this, who knows—maybe one day we’ll get married.”

you froze.

he didn’t say it as a joke. it was quiet. casual. but he meant it.

married.

you hadn’t thought about that in weeks. you’d been so swept up in the rush of the new—new glances, new kisses, new secret dates and stolen evenings. but that word made your heart skip, stumble, leap. it opened a future you hadn’t dared imagine.

married to jeong jaehyun. walking down an aisle. your coworkers gasping. your parents trying to stay calm. him lifting your veil. kissing you like it was the beginning of forever. sunday mornings with kids and cartoons and coffee. vacations. shared bookshelves. him waiting at the door when you got home.

you shook the image out of your head.

“you can’t just say things like that,” you whispered, barely breathing.

“why not?” he asked softly, his eyes sincere. “it’s where we’re going, right?”

friday night came like a slow exhale.

he arrived with a small black duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a sheepish grin. you wore mismatched pajamas—striped pants and a faded hoodie from a school club you barely remembered joining. the sight of you like that made him laugh, and the sound was so unguarded it made your chest ache with affection.

you stayed in. ordered too much food. picked a cheesy rom-com that made you cry halfway through. he kept making sarcastic comments at first, trying to pretend he didn’t care, until somewhere in the middle he got quiet. his hand found yours under the blanket, warm and steady. when the credits rolled, your head was on his shoulder and your eyes were puffy.

“i hate that you made me cry,” you sniffled, wiping your face.

“i didn’t make you cry. blame julia roberts,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

the rest of the night blurred. an improvised dinner of instant noodles and wine, soft music from your phone speaker, him dancing stupidly in the kitchen with a wooden spoon, trying to make you laugh. and you did. hard. the kind of laugh that made you forget to be careful.

when it got late, and the lights dimmed, the kisses came back. slow. long. searching. his hands on your waist, your fingers in his hair, breathing each other in like you were afraid to stop. the heat built, like always, but neither of you pushed further. it wasn’t time. not yet. but god, it was close.

saturday was lazy and warm and beautiful.

you woke up tangled in the blankets, his arm draped over your stomach, his breath soft against your neck. the kind of morning you never thought you’d get to have—where nothing was urgent, and everything felt right.

you took turns in the shower, argued over who finished the milk, and spent an hour sitting on the floor flipping through old photo albums you’d forgotten you had. you didn’t plan to show him—but he insisted. and once he started looking, he didn’t stop.

“wait... this is you in high school?” he asked, pointing at a photo.

“yeah,” you said, embarrassed. “why?”

“you were so cute.”

you rolled your eyes. “i wasn’t popular or anything. i had one boyfriend. lasted a week.”

he stared. “a week?”

“he said i was too uptight and boring.”

jaehyun’s mouth dropped open. “that guy was an idiot.”

you laughed. “no, he was probably right. i’ve always been... structured. controlled. even back then. guess that’s why i’m like this now—such a workaholic.”

he didn’t laugh. instead, he kept looking at your photo—finger brushing over the glossy paper like it meant something.

“if i had met you back then,” he said quietly, “i would’ve fallen in love with you. no doubt.”

your breath caught.

he didn’t look away. “i wouldn’t have let you go. not for a second.”

“you don’t mean that,” you whispered, unsure what else to say.

“i do,” he said, firm. “you’re not boring. you’re brilliant. you’re thoughtful. you see things no one else sees. you work harder than anyone i know. and... you make me want to be better.”

tears pricked your eyes again. not from sadness. just—too much emotion. too much truth.

“you’re going to make me cry again,” you whispered.

“then cry,” he said, pulling you close. “but only if you let me hold you through it.”

the rest of the weekend passed like a dream.

grocery runs in sweatpants. a half-burnt attempt at making pancakes. arguments over which playlist was better for cleaning the kitchen. you wore ridiculous socks with cartoons on them. he made fun of you until you found his even worse ones.

you kissed between chores. kissed while brushing your teeth. kissed while folding laundry.

it wasn’t glamorous.

but it felt like home.

and when sunday night came, and he packed his bag again, you didn’t want him to go. not because of the sex, or the thrill, or the high of newness. but because somewhere between instant noodles and high school photos, you realized something terrifying and beautiful—

you were falling in love.

for real.

for the first time.

towards the end of the month, your phone rings. you’re in your apartment, folding laundry with the window cracked open to let in the soft breeze of early summer. the sunlight filters through sheer curtains, painting everything in golden hues. you glance at the caller id and feel a knot tighten in your stomach. mom.

you answer.

“it’s your father’s birthday this weekend,” she says, skipping greetings as always, her voice a mix of cheerful anticipation and subtle reprimand. “you should come visit. he’s been asking if we’ll see you.”

you agree, almost without thinking, but then comes the dreaded question.

“and? have you found a boyfriend yet or do i need to talk to mrs. lee again?”

you rub your temple. “mom—”

“her son is still single, you know. owns a good piece of land. sells vegetables to that big food corporation. you’d be set for life.”

you exhale deeply, eyes closing in frustration.

“i’m… i’m seeing someone.”

a pause. then her voice lights up like fireworks. “you are? oh, this is wonderful! finally, you’re not wasting away alone up there in that office job.”

“mom, we’ve just started seeing each other,” you say, hesitating. “it’s too soon to—”

“no,” she cuts in firmly. “you don’t have time to be unsure. the train is about to leave the station, sweetheart. you either get on or it’s gone. bring him. we want to meet him.”

before you can argue, the call ends with a clipped goodbye, and you’re left staring at your phone, pulse racing and chest tight.

the rest of the week, you feel like a ghost of yourself. distracted at work, distant on your dates with jaehyun, your mind spinning in loops. he notices immediately—of course he does—and it only takes one missed joke and a quiet dinner for him to call you out on it.

you’re sitting across from him, poking at your food. the restaurant is softly lit, cozy, but there’s a distance in your eyes.

“y/n,” he says, setting his chopsticks down. “what’s going on?”

“nothing,” you mutter, but he leans in.

“don’t give me that. we’re together now, remember? you can talk to me. or… if you’re second guessing this… if i’m moving too fast, just tell me. i can handle it.”

your heart aches at his words. you reach across the table, grabbing his hand.

“it’s not that. i’m not doubting us,” you say quietly. “it’s just… my mom called. she wants me to visit this weekend for my dad’s birthday. and she… kind of expects me to bring you.”

he blinks. then, without hesitation, he says, “okay. then i’ll come.”

you blink right back. “wait, seriously?”

“yes. if it means that much to them—and to you—I want to go. i want to meet your family, y/n. it feels right.”

your chest swells with something warm and terrifying. you nod, silently.

friday comes and your suitcase is zipped and ready by the door. you’re wearing a floral summer dress, light and breezy, with your favorite pair of nude heels that make your legs look longer than they are. your hair is pinned loosely, lip tint soft and rosy. there’s a nervous flutter in your chest when you step outside.

jaehyun is already waiting beside his car, leaning casually against it like he belongs in a photoshoot. he’s in cream linen pants and a sage green button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar open at the throat. his sunglasses reflect the afternoon sun, and he looks, frankly, too good to be standing in your quiet little street. you gulp.

“need help with those?” he says with a grin, reaching for your bags before you can answer.

the ride is filled with music, laughter, and long, thoughtful silences. the kind that don't feel awkward, but full. pregnant with meaning. he holds your hand on the highway, thumb stroking the back of it lazily, his warmth anchoring you through your nerves.

when you pull up to your parents' house—a modest home with stone finishings and a neat little front garden—your heart thunders. everything feels smaller, more fragile, like stepping back in time. your mom rushes out first, apron still tied around her waist, eyes wide and wet with excitement.

and when she sees jaehyun? she nearly cries. “you’re real,” she says, pressing her hands together like she’s witnessing a miracle. your dad comes out next, chuckling as he wipes his hands on a dish towel.

“so this is the young man,” he says with a knowing nod, clapping jaehyun on the back. “your mother hasn’t shut up about you since she found out.”

inside, the dining table is set with your dad’s favorite dishes. everything smells like memory. you sit in the living room afterward, your parents across from you, jaehyun beside you on the couch, close enough to feel his knee brushing yours.

he speaks up first, voice calm and clear.

“i just want to say that i’m very serious about your daughter,” he says. “i have genuine intentions. we’re still getting to know each other, but… if things keep going the way they are, i’d like to build a future with her.”

your mother gasps, reaching for a tissue. your father nods slowly, visibly moved.

“this… this is the best birthday gift i could ask for,” he says.

you shrink into the couch, cheeks burning, while jaehyun’s hand finds yours again and squeezes gently.

then comes the chaos.

your older brother, baekhyun, bursts through the door with his wife and two kids in tow. he takes one look at you and smirks.

“who’s the guy and what have you done with my perpetually single little sister?”

you groan. “shut up, baek.”

the two of you bicker like teenagers, tossing playful insults back and forth while your nephews cling to your legs, shouting your name with delight. you hand them the toys you brought and their eyes light up like it’s christmas.

jaehyun watches it all, amused, until one of the boys climbs into his lap and hands him a toy too.

he freezes.

and in that moment, something shifts in him. the sound of children’s laughter, the image of you with a soft smile, cradling one of your nephews in your arms. the warmth of this home, the love in every corner. he imagines it—having this with you. kids with your eyes. a house that’s yours. your framed wedding photo on the wall. vacations. birthdays. late-night talks in bed. wrinkles and silver hair, but still loving you with the same fire.

he blushes.

and you notice.

“what?” you whisper as you lean close.

he shakes his head, smiling to himself. “nothing. just… i really, really like this. all of it.”

the night unfolds gently. dinner turns into stories, stories into laughter, and soon the sun has long set and the house is lit with warm yellow lights. you and jaehyun sit outside for a moment, watching the stars.

he wraps an arm around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“you feel like home,” you whisper, not even realizing the words have slipped out.

he turns to look at you, eyes soft. “so do you.”

and in the quiet, with the cicadas singing and the echo of your family’s voices drifting from inside, you know.

this might just be the beginning of everything.

the months of july passed by with little to no complications. your parents were pleased with jaehyun, and you could tell that their approval meant the world to him. jungwoo, on the other hand, was playful and teasing, but with a newfound sense of respect, especially as jaehyun started to show more signs of being protective, making sure that jungwoo didn’t cross any boundaries. you were still professional with everyone at work, but the chemistry between you and jaehyun was undeniable. nights together were spent laughing, and weekends were filled with stolen moments of joy, where you both shared something more than just professional courtesy.

jaehyun had made a habit of calling you during the day, just to check on you, and you found yourself doing the same. the conversations were simple, but they felt important. visits to his office became more frequent, sometimes just for work, but other times, it was an excuse to sneak in a kiss or two. the passion between you two continued to build, a slow, steady fire that became increasingly hard to ignore.

one night, a wednesday, you both ignored the weather forecast and decided to take your date out in the city. the air was warm, and the lights of the city sparkled as you walked the streets together. the mood was light, but as midnight approached, the weather took a sharp turn. dark clouds rolled in, and soon, rain began to pour, turning into a violent storm. the wind howled, and the streets quickly flooded. jaehyun’s car struggled against the force of the water, and you couldn’t help but grip the seat, anxious.

jaehyun tried to keep calm, glancing at you with a reassuring smile. “it’s okay, nothing’s going to happen,” he said, though you could tell he was also feeling the weight of the storm.

the rain pounded against the windows, and the car barely moved as the currents began to grow stronger. after what felt like an eternity, you both agreed that waiting in the car wasn’t safe anymore. as you both discussed where to go, a motel appeared in front of you. it seemed like an odd choice, but the parking lot was dry, and there were few other options at that hour. both of you hesitated, unsure of what to do. it was a strange situation—neither of you wanted to suggest anything that could be misinterpreted.

jaehyun was the one to break the silence. “let’s just use the parking lot, at least we’ll have shelter from the rain,” he said. “and if it lasts all night, we’ll have a warm place to stay.”

you nodded, a little nervous. “yeah, i mean, we’re not going to do anything else, right? just sleep, then in the morning, we’ll head back to our places and go to work, right?”

jaehyun smiled at you, trying to ease your nerves. “of course, just a safe place to wait out the storm. no pressure.”

you both parked and got out of the car, a little stiff from the tension, but the moment you entered the motel, things started to feel different. jaehyun took the lead, making sure you were comfortable and settled in, giving you space to breathe. He didn’t rush you, always checking to see how you felt.

both of you were tired from the day, and the weather didn’t help the situation, so after some brief, awkward glances, you both decided to take separate showers to unwind. you both changed into something more comfortable, but since it was summer and it was warm, you decided to just sleep in your underwear. when you looked at jaehyun in his, the moment felt almost surreal. his gaze lingered for a moment before he quickly turned away, as if both of you were still trying to adjust to how close you had become.

“you know,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence, “you don’t have to feel awkward. we’re taking things at our own pace.”

you smiled, feeling your heartbeat quicken at the sound of his voice. “what if i want to go faster?” you said, your words surprising even yourself.

jaehyun looks at you, eyes widening slightly before they darken with something deeper—something he’s clearly been holding back. “are you sure?” he asks, voice low, almost trembling with restraint.

you nod, stepping closer, your fingers brushing against his bare chest. “i’m sure.”

his hands find your waist gently at first, testing the waters, but when you lean into him, he pulls you in like he’s been waiting forever to hold you like this. his lips find yours in a kiss that starts soft, exploratory, but quickly deepens, hungry and needing. he walks you backwards slowly until the back of your knees hit the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp, taking him with you.

his hands roam your body, reverent and slow, like he’s memorizing every inch of you. he whispers your name against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, and lower still. your breath hitches when his mouth lingers between your thighs, his eyes meeting yours, waiting for any sign to stop—but you nod again, your fingers threading into his hair, guiding him closer.

what he gives you isn’t rushed. it’s worship. like he’s been dreaming of this moment for too long to waste it. you lose yourself in the rhythm of his mouth, the way he listens to your body, adjusting, teasing, giving. he doesn’t stop until your thighs are shaking and your voice is broken with moans you couldn’t hold back.

when he finally crawls back up your body, his lips kiss yours again, slower this time, tasting you. he whispers, “still okay?” and you nod, pulling him closer.

when he slides into you, it’s not hurried or careless. it’s deep, slow, and overwhelming in the best way. you cling to him, breathless, as your bodies move together like they were made to. he holds your gaze, foreheads pressed together, sweat-damp skin sticking in the summer heat, but neither of you care.

you whisper his name like a prayer, and he answers with yours, over and over, like he’s trying to brand it into the moment.

you fall apart in his arms, not once, but twice, and he follows soon after, burying his face in your neck as he trembles against you.

his lips are still on yours when he pushes deeper inside you, and this time, there’s no hesitation. your body arches under him, the stretch of him delicious and overwhelming all at once. he fills you slowly, inch by inch, like he wants to feel every reaction he pulls from you.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he breathes out, forehead resting against yours. “been thinking about this for so long.”

you moan softly, nails dragging down his back as he starts to move, slow at first, rolling his hips into you with precision that makes your legs tremble. he kisses down your throat, biting softly at your skin as he picks up the pace, each thrust hitting deeper, harder. the headboard taps gently against the wall, a quiet rhythm that matches the sound of your breathy moans and his soft, low groans.

your fingers clutch the sheets, the pleasure building with every thrust. jaehyun’s hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider for him, and the new angle has you gasping his name, your voice breaking. he doesn’t stop—he can’t stop—lost in the feel of you, the sounds you make, the way your body clings to his like it’s the only place it belongs.

he pulls out just enough to see the way you take him, watching your slick coat his length before sliding back in with a filthy, wet sound that makes your toes curl. “look at you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your lower lip, eyes locked on yours. “so fucking beautiful like this.”

when he shifts, propping one of your legs over his shoulder, the angle has you crying out, your whole body shuddering. “you’re so deep,” you whimper, and he groans, hips snapping faster, harder, chasing both your highs like a man starved.

your climax hits hard—white-hot and blinding—as your walls clamp down around him, dragging him over the edge with you. he cums with a strangled moan, burying himself to the hilt, his hips stuttering as he spills into you. he stays there, chest pressed to yours, breathing heavy, hearts pounding in sync.

after a few moments, he pulls out slowly, carefully, kissing your shoulder as he lies beside you and pulls you into his arms.

your body’s still trembling when he runs a hand down your spine, voice low and thick with affection. “think we’re still just sleeping?”

you laugh softly against his chest, lazy fingers tracing circles on his skin. “not a chance.”

he kisses the top of your head. “then let’s not sleep yet.”

and before you can even respond, he’s already kissing down your body again—because one round clearly wasn’t enough.

you barely have time to catch your breath before jaehyun’s mouth is back on your skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your chest, between your breasts, over your stomach. his hands roam your thighs with greedy fingers, and even though you’re still sensitive, your body responds instantly—needy, aching, already ready for him again.

“you’re still so wet,” he murmurs, spreading you open with his fingers, dragging two of them slowly through your folds. “fuck, baby… you’re dripping.”

your hips jerk when he circles your clit, light and teasing, and you whine, fingers gripping the sheets. “j-jaehyun…”

he smirks, dark eyes meeting yours as he sinks his fingers into you—slow, deep, curling just right. “you can take it, can’t you?” he says, voice thick with lust. “you want it again.”

you nod helplessly, mouth parted as your back arches off the bed. he fucks you with his fingers until you’re trembling again, begging for him, grinding down onto his hand like you can’t get enough—and you can’t.

when he pulls his fingers out and lines himself up again, there’s no patience this time. he pushes in all at once, rougher, deeper, making your breath catch in your throat. the stretch, the pressure, the heat—it’s almost too much, but you crave every second of it.

he fucks you like he owns you now, one hand on your hip, the other pressing down on your stomach so he can feel himself inside you. “you feel that?” he groans. “you’re taking all of me.”

your moans turn shameless, high-pitched and raw, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room with every thrust. the bed creaks, the headboard pounds against the wall, and you don’t care who hears. he flips you onto your stomach without warning, pulling your hips up, and slides back into you from behind.

you cry out at the new angle, your hands clawing at the sheets as he drives into you, deeper than before. “god—jaehyun, i’m gonna—”

“cum for me,” he growls, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back to kiss the side of your neck. “cum all over my cock, baby.”

your orgasm hits like a shockwave, blinding and hot and overwhelming. your whole body shakes, legs giving out beneath you as he keeps fucking you through it. he follows moments later, groaning your name as he fills you again, hips jerking against your ass, the sound of it all so filthy and perfect.

this time, when you collapse together on the bed, everything is soaked in sweat and heat and the scent of sex. your body is limp, your mind dazed, and he just pulls you close, wrapping you in his arms like he’s never letting go.

“okay,” you whisper, laughing breathlessly. “now we might need to sleep.”

he chuckles against your hair, voice rough. “maybe. after round three.”

that night at the motel changed everything.

it wasn’t just the sex—though, god, it was incredible. it was the way his hands learned your body like a second language, the way he whispered your name like a secret, the way you both let yourselves fall without fear. that night was messy, breathless, and soaked in want. but more than anything, it was a turning point—a quiet, unspoken agreement that this was no longer just something casual. not for either of you.

after that, the line between love and lust blurred beautifully. sex became part of your rhythm, part of how you communicated. stolen glances in the office turned into stolen kisses in the elevator. late nights became sleepovers, and every morning-after was filled with lazy touches and knowing smiles. you memorized each other’s moans like favorite songs, found new ways to say i want you, even when the words themselves weren’t spoken.

but there was one night that stood out. the one you still think about more than any other.

it was the night you stayed over at his apartment—just the two of you, no distractions, no storms outside, only the slow burn between your bodies. dinner turned into kisses. kisses turned into the first round on his kitchen counter, then the second in the shower, steam fogging up the mirror as your bodies tangled and slipped together like water and flame.

by the third round, it was past midnight. you were already sore, breathless, but insatiable. he pulled you back into bed, whispering things in your ear that made your skin burn. he was rougher that time—hungrier—gripping your hips as he fucked you deep and slow, drawing out every moan until your voice was hoarse and your mind was gone.

you were on top, riding him with lazy, desperate rhythm, your head thrown back, your nails digging into his chest. he looked up at you like you were something divine, his hands guiding your pace, eyes locked on the place where your bodies met.

and just when your orgasm started to hit—when everything went hot and tight and unbearably good—the words slipped out of you.

“i love you.”

your voice cracked around it, high and trembling, your body still grinding against his, your climax crashing over you like a wave. for a split second, everything stopped. you felt him freeze beneath you, heard the sharp intake of breath, saw the shock in his eyes.

you hadn’t meant to say it like that. not in the middle of fucking. not when you were bare in every sense of the word.

it was reckless. vulnerable. raw.

but not wrong.

his hands gripped your waist tighter, and then he was sitting up, arms wrapping around you, thrusting up into you so hard and deep that you sobbed out his name.

“i love you too,” he groaned against your neck. “fuck, i love you so much—too much.”

and then he came—hard and fast, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

afterward, you just lay there on top of him, chest to chest, skin to skin, hearts pounding in unison. there was no awkwardness. no regret. only this strange, beautiful calm that settled over the room like dawn.

it was in that moment you realized just how deep your feelings for him ran.

what had started as a simple plan—just something to avoid growing old alone—had become the best part of your life. somewhere along the way, between the office visits and shared glances, motel rooms and quiet mornings, you had fallen hopelessly, madly in love with jaehyun.

and the craziest part?

you couldn’t imagine ever thinking of anything—or anyone—else but him.

august wrapped around you like a golden ribbon, thick with heat and filled with the kind of breathless anticipation that only comes after months of hard work. the project was done—finally—after weeks of stress, endless reports, last-minute corrections and late nights. but it was done. and not just done, but successful. glowing feedback, client satisfaction, numbers that sang. it was more than you had dared to hope for.

and then—the email.

subject line: promotion confirmation.

you stared at it for a full minute before opening it. and when you read the words “congratulations, supervisor,” your breath hitched. you covered your mouth. you gasped. and then you ran.

jaehyun wasn’t even at his desk anymore, he was just walking into the hallway when you caught him. “jaehyun!” you called, your voice trembling with a kind of joy that had nowhere to go.

he turned, concerned for half a second—until he saw your face. and then you said it.

“i got it.”

“you got what?” he blinked, confused.

“the promotion.”

his eyes widened. he froze for a second. and then—his arms were around you before you could even finish breathing. he lifted you, spinning you once, twice, both of you laughing as you clutched his shoulders and buried your face in his neck.

“oh my god, baby—you did it! i knew it, i knew you would!”

you were dizzy, and not just from the spinning. he kissed your cheek, your temple, your lips. everything was warm and golden and right.

he took you out that night.

you didn’t go anywhere fancy—jaehyun insisted that celebrations should be personal, not performative. so he drove you to that one little pizzeria you loved, the one that made the potato crust just the way you liked it. he ordered your usual without asking, and when the wine came, he raised his glass first.

“to you,” he said, his eyes soft and gleaming under the low light. “my brilliant, unstoppable, incredible woman.”

your heart swelled so fast it almost ached. the clink of your glasses felt like the sound of a new chapter opening.

“i’ve never had this before,” you confessed, fingers curling around the stem of your glass. “celebrating something this big. with someone i love. it feels…” you laughed, shy and overwhelmed. “it feels like everything’s different now.”

jaehyun reached for your hand, his thumb stroking the back of it slowly.

“it is different,” he said. “because now, every good thing that happens to you—we get to celebrate it. together.”

you stared at him, your chest tight with emotion, with the kind of love that had no bottom, no edge. just more.

you leaned across the table, kissing him slow, deep, grateful. pizza between you, wine in your veins, your laughter echoing off the walls of that tiny booth.

you didn’t need fireworks.

this was better.

this was yours.

mid-september arrived with a softness that clung to the air—warm enough to feel like summer still lingered, but mellowed by the early hints of fall. the leaves hadn’t turned yet, but something in the wind carried change. maybe that’s what had been stirring inside you all week—a restless certainty that had taken root in your chest and bloomed with every kiss, every sleepy morning wrapped around each other, every whispered i love you that escaped your lips without hesitation. it had been five months, five months of chaos and clarity, of fire and softness, and you knew now—you didn’t want to wait anymore.

you wanted jaehyun. not in a month. not after careful plans. now.

so you climbed the steps to his office, heart thudding like a war drum, nerves tangled with determination. you paused outside the door, breathed once, twice, and knocked.

“come in,” his voice called, muffled behind the heavy door.

you stepped in and found him at his desk, back slightly hunched, focused on the glow of his screen. he looked up, and the moment he saw you, he smiled—that slow, dazzling smile that always made your knees feel like melted wax—and stood immediately, walking toward you without hesitation. he cupped your face, leaned in, and kissed you like he’d been waiting to do it all day.

“jaehyun,” you said, voice almost trembling, more from the gravity of what you were about to say than nerves. he pulled back slightly, tilting his head.

“yeah?”

you met his eyes and, without giving yourself the chance to second-guess it, you let it fall from your lips.

“i want to marry you.”

his lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across his features. he blinked, as if trying to be sure he heard you right.

“i know, baby,” he said, a soft chuckle lacing his words. “that was the whole deal, right? but remember—we said after november. we’d have more time to plan, get everything ready—”

“no,” you interrupted, stepping forward, clutching his hands tightly. “i don’t want to wait till november. i mean it. i want to marry you now. today, tomorrow, next week—i don’t care when or how. i just want to be yours. forever.”

he stared at you, quiet. processing. his brows drew together, and then lifted again like the meaning had just landed fully. his hands gripped yours tighter.

“but—what about the wedding? your parents, mine—”

“we’ll figure it out,” you whispered. “but this... this love we have, i don’t want to keep treating it like something that needs to be scheduled. it’s real. it’s now.”

he took a breath, deep and full. and then, his expression softened into something vulnerable and glowing—his eyes shone with something deeper than just affection. he leaned his forehead against yours and whispered, “you want to be my wife.”

you nodded, lips brushing his as you breathed, “more than anything.”

his thumbs brushed over your cheeks, as if committing this moment to memory. “then we’ll do it. not because it’s rushed, but because we know. we’ve known. and if you want to be my wife now... then i’ll make it happen. we’ll get married. i promise.”

and he kissed you again, this time slower, as if sealing an oath between your mouths.

the proposal happened three days later.

he told you it was just a normal date—dinner, then a walk somewhere scenic. no pressure. he even played it off by wearing something casual: a white linen shirt, sleeves rolled, soft beige slacks, and the cleanest pair of loafers you’d ever seen. he looked devastatingly handsome without trying.

he picked you up and drove toward the edge of the city, toward the river trail where the summer festivals were usually held. the area was quiet now, early autumn having driven the crowds away. but fairy lights still dangled from the trees, twinkling faintly as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting a warm, honeyed hue over everything.

he walked with you along the wooden path, your fingers tangled. his hand was slightly clammy. you noticed, and your heart fluttered, thinking—he’s nervous. the realization made you giddy.

and then, just as you reached the little bridge that overlooked the water, he stopped.

“wait here,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. “don’t move.”

he jogged a few steps ahead, ducked behind a low fence near a cluster of trees, and returned with a bouquet of peonies—your favorite. you hadn’t told him that. he remembered.

your eyes began to water.

he handed them to you, smiling shyly, and then pulled something out of his pocket.

a velvet box.

he opened it without a speech, without fanfare. his voice was soft, his eyes locked on yours like the world outside didn’t exist.

“you already said yes,” he whispered. “but i want to do this right.”

he got down on one knee, the gravel crunching beneath him, and held the ring up.

“y/n, will you marry me—not next month, not in theory, not in some future we’re still trying to picture... but now. for real. because i’m yours. and you’re mine.”

you didn’t cry. you sobbed. like an idiot. like a girl who had waited her whole life for someone like him. you nodded so fast your vision blurred and fell into his arms, and he kissed you like he was promising you the rest of forever.

in that moment, september never felt sweeter.

telling the company was a whole thing.

it started with a scheduled meeting—a weekly operations check-in with the usual suspects: team leads, upper management, the supervisor, and a couple of sharp-eyed executives who never missed a detail. it was jaehyun’s idea to make it official at work, to do it clean and direct and proudly. no rumors. no hiding. just the truth, glowing and solid like the ring that now lived permanently on your finger.

you both walked into the meeting room together, which wasn’t unusual, but something in the way your hands brushed as you took your seat already had jungwoo giving you the side-eye.

the presentation started, charts and projections lighting up the screen behind jaehyun as he stood with calm confidence. it was business as usual—until the last slide.

"before we wrap up," he said, glancing back at the room, his eyes finding yours briefly before turning to the group again, "i have one personal announcement to make."

you swallowed. jungwoo leaned forward like a damn hawk. mr. choi narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as if he'd been waiting for this moment since spring.

jaehyun smiled—soft, boyish, unbothered. “as some of you may know… or have guessed," he said, and gave jungwoo a teasing look that made him gasp, "i knew it," he muttered dramatically—"y/n and i have been seeing each other for a while.”

the room exploded. a gasp from the secretary and the supervisor actually choked on his coffee. someone in the back whispered “what the fuck” under their breath.

jaehyun held up a hand, a little smug, a little amused.

“and, as of last weekend… we’re engaged.”

your cheeks were burning. your heart thundered. you expected chaos, maybe disapproval, but what followed was—

cheering. clapping. wide eyes and stunned smiles. even mr. choi looked like he was trying very hard not to grin.

“you’re marrying jaehyun? our jaehyun?” he blinked at her, then looked at jaehyun like he’d just discovered a double life. “okay, i knew something was going on. i’m not blind. but marriage? dude, that’s insane. like, insane in the good way, but—holy shit.”

you stood up, feeling brave. “we just didn’t want to hide it anymore,” you said. “we’re really happy. and we hope you’ll be happy for us too.”

the room burst into applause again. someone shouted, “wedding invites or we riot!”

the parents came next.

you visited your family first. your mom opened the door and immediately noticed the ring. she gasped, dropped the dish towel she was holding, and squealed in that way only mothers can. within seconds, your dad was there too, grinning, eyes glossy, holding jaehyun’s shoulder like he was already part of the family.

"are you kidding me," your mom kept saying. "you're engaged? oh my god, you're engaged!"

you nodded, trying not to cry as she hugged you so tight it hurt.

“he’s everything i ever wanted for you,” your dad told you quietly, before giving jaehyun a very serious handshake. “you take care of her.”

“always,” jaehyun promised, voice thick with sincerity.

then it was his parents' turn.

you were more nervous, but you shouldn’t have been. the moment jaehyun’s mom saw you, she pulled you into a hug, muttering in korean how beautiful you were, how she’d been praying her son would be smart enough to not let you go. his dad was more reserved, but the sparkle in his eye said everything. when jaehyun said, “we’re getting married,” his mother clapped her hands and screamed like she’d just won the lottery.

“we’re so happy,” she said, eyes shining. “you are already family.”

they brought out food, wine, photos from jaehyun’s childhood. his mom made you take home a tupperware of kimchi and a crocheted doily she claimed she made for whoever he married one day. she said she just had a feeling it was going to be you, and jaehyun turned red.

it turned out that weddings—real weddings—took a lot more time to plan than y/n had expected. even with jaehyun’s calming presence and the help of a surprisingly competent wedding planner, the months passed like petals falling from a tree: softly, quickly, too beautifully to hold onto.

they settled on march 28. it gave them just enough time to breathe, to build, to dream together.

from the moment they told everyone—first their friends, then their families, and finally, in a hilariously formal email, the entire company—the whirlwind began. the announcement caused a stir so loud in the office that y/n had to leave her desk just to get some peace.

the directivos were equally shocked, though mostly amused. her supervisor just nodded sagely, like he’d been betting on this since the beginning.

“you two were always ‘too in sync’,” he said, raising his coffee mug in mock toast. “i give it six months before one of you becomes the other's boss at home too.”

and then came the parents.

jaehyun’s mother cried when she met y/n, tears slipping down her cheeks as she hugged her tight and whispered in korean, “you’re even more beautiful than he said. and i knew he was in love the first time he said your name.”

her own parents, after recovering from the initial shock, became obsessively involved in the planning, sending flower samples, playlist suggestions, and opinions on wedding favors at all hours of the day. but none of it was overwhelming. not with jaehyun there, always pulling her back into calm. always making sure this was their wedding, not anyone else’s.

they chose a venue outside the city—a small vineyard with soft hills, blooming wisteria, and golden light that melted everything it touched. march 28 arrived with the scent of earth and lilac, a warm wind, and the sky so blue it almost hurt to look at.

y/n stood before a mirror in a white gown that made her feel like everything good in the world had been sewn together just for her. she could hear the quiet rustle of guests arriving, the soft music playing in the distance, the laughter of children running between the rows of flowers.

and then, jaehyun.

when she saw him waiting at the altar, dressed in a suit that fit like second skin, with his hair slightly tousled and a look in his eyes that could undo galaxies—she forgot how to breathe.

he mouthed “you’re perfect” as she walked down the aisle.

she mouthed “you’re mine.”

the ceremony was intimate, emotional, wrapped in vows that made everyone cry—even jungwoo, who tried to play it off by pretending he had allergies.

“i promise to protect your dreams as fiercely as my own,” jaehyun said, voice trembling slightly, “and to always make sure your pizza has the right amount of potato crust, even when we’re eighty.”

“i promise to choose you, even on the days we forget how lucky we are,” y/n replied, tears in her eyes. “and to never let the fire between us die, even when we’re old and gray.”

they kissed.

and the world felt new again.

their first dance was under strings of fairy lights, barefoot on the grass. the song was soft, a slow jazz tune that jaehyun had played for her once in the car when she’d been crying. now, with her head against his chest, they swayed like the wind had been made just for them.

“we did it,” she whispered.

“we did,” he said. “and i’d marry you again tomorrow if i could.”

the honeymoon came a few days later. they chose santorini, greece, not for the postcard beauty or luxury, but because y/n had once told him, offhandedly, that she always dreamed of watching the sun melt into the sea from a white rooftop. he remembered.

their suite was perched on a cliff, overlooking the caldera, with white walls and blue domes and windows that opened to eternity. the first night, they sat on the balcony with a bottle of wine, their feet touching, their hands always searching for each other.

they kissed under sunsets and made love under stars. they danced in narrow streets, shared kisses between sips of ouzo, fed each other olives and sweet baklava. they were ridiculous. and in love. and utterly themselves.

“this is the life i want,” y/n whispered one night, tangled in cotton sheets, her cheek against his chest.

“then it’s the life we��ll have,” jaehyun said. “forever.”

and this time, forever didn’t sound like a fairytale.

it sounded like a promise.

three years passed like chapters in a love letter—written slowly, lived fully.

you and jaehyun made a home out of a sleek little apartment tucked into the rhythm of the city. it was all black wood and soft gray, velvet cushions and open windows where sunlight poured in like gold. it wasn’t big, but it held your whole world. your toothbrushes leaned against each other. your shoes tangled by the door. your laughter lived in the walls.

mornings were sleepy and soft—coffee mugs clinking, your legs wrapped around his under the kitchen table, newspaper pages ignored in favor of each other’s eyes. nights were even softer—blankets twisted around you, movie soundtracks playing in the background while your fingers danced across his skin. the kind of love that didn’t need grand gestures—just the warmth of his palm on your thigh and the way he said “come here” like home itself.

but then, one evening, the quiet changed.

you were in the bathroom. pacing. heart in your throat. your phone timer ticked like thunder in the silence. the test rested on the sink, small and still—like it held the weight of the universe. you sat on the edge of the tub, knees pulled up, trying to breathe.

when the timer stopped, you moved like you were underwater. slow. hesitant. scared.

two pink lines.

you stared. blinked. stared again.

your lips parted, the shape of a whisper you couldn’t form. your hands trembled, and for a moment, the whole world tilted—just you and that tiny piece of plastic and everything it now meant.

you stepped out of the bathroom, barefoot, holding the test like it might shatter.

jaehyun was on the couch, lounging with his phone, one leg bent lazily, hair tousled from running his hand through it too many times. he looked up. paused. frowned softly. “baby… what is it?”

you didn’t answer right away. just walked toward him—slow, like the floor might disappear—and placed the test in his hand.

“we’re gonna be parents!!”

the silence cracked. and then—

jaehyun surged forward, arms wrapping around you so tight you gasped. he lifted you off the ground, spinning you around the living room like a kid on christmas morning, laughter bursting from his chest, from yours, from some place deep inside where all the hope had been hiding.

you were both crying. laughing. kissing. saying “we did it!” over and over again like a prayer you never thought you’d get to say out loud. he pressed his forehead to yours, voice shaking, “we’re having a baby.”

“we’re having our baby,” you whispered.

months passed like petals falling from a blooming tree.

you were glowing. exhausted, but glowing.

your blush-pink maternity dress clung gently to your growing belly, printed with tiny white florals that made jaehyun smile every time he saw you in it. your feet were bare, your ankles swollen, your back ached constantly—but he was always there, hands rubbing your spine, lips on your shoulder, whispering, “you’re magic, you know that?”

the nursery was nearly finished—lavender walls painted with care, gold stars twinkling on the ceiling, and a soft mobile that played lullabies like stardust. the crib waited, delicate and perfect, with a plush bunny nestled in the corner.

jaehyun was kneeling by the dresser, sweat on his brow, tongue between his teeth as he finished the final drawer. he looked up, eyes finding you immediately, and god—he looked at you like the whole sky lived inside your smile.

“she’s gonna love this room,” he said, standing to press a hand to your belly. his palm warm. grounding. full of quiet awe. “our little moon.”

you leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “i hope she gets your eyes,” you whispered.

he smiled, eyes soft with wonder. “and your heart,” he murmured. “especially your heart.”

the room went quiet again—except for the soft hum of the mobile spinning slowly above the crib. gold stars turned, catching the light.

and in that moment, just one suspended, breathless moment, everything was still.

you. him. her.

and the love that built it all.

finally. completely.

beautifully yours.

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spookyji · 29 days ago

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wifed up! p.js

nsfw content. this is so indulgent i can’t even defend myself lol 9-5 hubby ji i adore him so much

9-5 husband! jisung doesn’t know how to tie his own ties, so every morning it becomes routine for him to wait for you to tie his tie for him before he leaves, his hands resting lightly on your hip, his heart racing a little ‘cause jisung still feels the flustered just by being close to you, his cheeks dusted with a little pink at the way you’re biting your lip trying to get his tie knot perfect, and pink fades into a red when your fingers wrap around his tie, tugging him down for a kiss before he leaves for work. one kiss, two kisses, three and he’s about to be running late!

9-5 husband! jisung whose coworkers tease him for the way his lunch has fruits cut into hearts and a pink sticky note with an ‘ily!’ stuck to the container every day, making him blush because he feels like he’s falling in love all over again, feeling so shy, like… how did he land such a cute wife ? (jisung never shares his lunch. like ever. that’s for him, from his wife!) he keeps all of your little notes, folding them into origami stars in a jar at his desk. he literally leaves meetings, ‘bathroom’ excuse just to answer texts from you, missing him as much as he misses you.

9-5 husband! jisung’s habit of playing with his wedding band whenever he’s thinking, in meetings, at his desk, any time his hands are free, he’s twisting and fidgeting with the golden ring on his left hand without a second thought about it, unconsciously comforting to him. his friends laughing at him a little because jisung’s absent minded tendencies become wife daydreams, playing with his wedding ring for a hot second before he’s blinking back into the conversation, flustered because they’re teasing him about how obviously in loveee he is,,, like, the moment someone talks to him too long he’s pulling the ‘i’m married,’ ring and all. and they don’t even have to be flirting with him.

9-5 husband! jisung who’s all over you, his wifey, the moment he comes home, wandering into the kitchen immediately, back hugs and his chin resting on your shoulder, wanting kisses so badly, he’s inseparably clingy. who can blame him, he was at work all day. without you! the kind of kisses where he’s leaning down ‘cause he’s too tall, your arms wrapped around his neck and time slows down, he’s so down bad there’s no comparison. his fingers loosening his tie and pushing up his sleeves, wanting to hear everything about your day as jisung gives you starry eyes, barely paying attention to the vegetables he’s washing. or at least, supposed to be washing, if his entire attention wasn’t already taken.

9-5 husband! jisung’s a perv, caught with your panties and his hand in his sweats… no wonder he always offers to do the laundry. so so so in love when you’re equally as clingy to him,, but he gets boners so quick and often ‘cause everything you do turns him on, he’s so fucked whenever you’re wearing nothing but his shirts… the only difference is that now he’s your husband, can have you whenever,, kitchen counters and couches, the wall of the hallway, laundry room and in the shower !

9-5 husband! jisung who ignores work calls and tosses his phone somewhere else ‘cause he’s busy— on his knees, so pussy drunk he can’t think, face buried between your thighs, a couple of buttons undone on his dress shirt and slacks feeling too tight,, hand holding is so important to him, his fingers laced through yours and god are his hands big in comparison,, pretty lips smeared with your arousal and if it wasn’t for you begging for his cock, he’d probably eat you out for hours, anything for his wifey.

husband! jisung with his soft, deep voice always praising you, even if he does all the work, just so obsessed he worships you so much, so insanely lovesick, can’t have sex unless he’s pressed up to every inch of you, big hand on the little bulge he makes in your tummy, has to feel how deep he is! (his size kink). aftercare is all cuddles, because he’d have to pull out otherwise, it’s kind of romantic to him to wanna be inside you, when you’re all full of his cum. wants you to mark him up, make it so obvious he’s taken, lying on top of him and kissing hickeys all over his skin, his collarbones, his neck, his chest, everywhere. sleepy mumbling about how badly he misses you when he’s at work, working only so he can make sure you’re taken care of, have everything you want and more. playing with the ring on your hand now that you’re here instead of his. can’t sleep until you fall asleep first, lulled by his quiet love songs he only sings for you.

husband! jisung gifts a star for you every anniversary, knowing one day there will be so many stars scattered across the universe, you’ll always be able to see one when you look at the night sky together. across so many galaxies, each and every one will have a star he’s given you because he loves you to the ends of the infinite universe.

i want him so bad. please

#9-5 husband and sahw rambling bc this is my dream. my life’s desire haha!#i love him so much why isn’t he mine :(#nct dream smut #nct smut #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #park jisung smut

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quitefawnish · 2 months ago

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the prize of prey

knight!au, simon riley x reader, kyle garrick x reader, johnny mactavish x reader, brief soap x gaz, mentioned john price x reader

cw: noncon/dubcon, abuse of power

word count: 3.6k

synopsis: this is inspired by one of my classes actually, where we discussed how knights in the middle ages only had to court noble women, whereas any peasant woman was open to their desires, and they were in fact encouraged to do so. while this is disgusting as a concept, i am also disgusting, so ofc i wrote this..

Everyone in the kingdom knew to stay out of the way of the knights. It was a common sight to see a vendor being heckled by a group of knights while many people walked by without sparing a glance. So you were well aware of how fucked you were when a group of them approached you at the market.

They were in their casual wear but the scabbards at their hips spoke to their knight status. The first one that started the conversation had tanned skin and a crooked grin that caused the edges of his stark blue eyes to crinkle.

His brown hair was styled in a mohawk, with the hair on the sides of his head crudely shaven away, and by the nicks that were spread across his scalp, you guessed he did it himself.

“Well, hello there, bonnie,” he practically whispered in your ear.

His hands gripped your waist as he pulled himself to stand closer to you with his chest against your back.

You stiffened, turning your head slightly backwards to peer at him. You had seen the group of them wandering the market earlier and you had hoped that’s the last you would see of them. You were not so lucky.

The second one, to your relief, pulled Mohawk off of you.

“Don’t crowd her, ye git” He gave you a grin, acting as if his friend hadn’t just groped you a second ago, but you had to admit, he was so pretty, it almost worked.

He had brown skin and tight curls that were close-cropped to his head. His facial hair was neatly trimmed, and his brown eyes sparkled with a mirth you didn’t share.

“I’m Gaz” he said, then he pointed to Mohawk, “he’s Soap.”

“But ye can call me Johnny, if ye like,” Soap interrupted, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

Gaz just shot him a glare and then pointed to the last man who had just been observing this whole interaction, “and this is Ghost.”

Ghost was a hulking creature of man, and if he wasn’t intimidating enough, he had on a skull-painted balaclava. Through the gap in the fabric you could see just his pale skin and soulless dark brown eyes that were boring into your soul.

You introduced yourself as they all stared at you expectantly.

“‘s a pretty name fer a pretty lass” Soap practically cooed at you.

This made you tuck further in yourself, wishing you could just disappear on the spot, “I.. don’t think this is appropriate.”

Gaz cocked his head slightly, “And why is that?”

You swallowed thickly, “B-because I don’t think my husband would approve.”

It was a complete gamble, maybe these knights would leave you alone if they thought you had a man to protect you. Problem is, you were decidedly not married, and all you could do was hope they wouldn’t see through your bluff.

“Husband?” Soap made a show of looking around, “if ye’re married, then where is he?”

“A man shouldn’t leave his woman to fend for herself in such a dangerous place, especially not one as beautiful as you, someone might try to take advantage,” Gaz said in a worried tone, but it was ruined by the slight grin on his face.

“He.. he went home already, I told him I needed to get one last thing, and I would be right home,” your lie was falling apart as soon as it left your mouth.

“He should have waited, no sense in making your woman walk home alone,” Soap grumbled.

By now, they had almost backed you into a corner, both literally and figuratively, as they advanced forward, forcing you to inch back towards the fruit stand behind you.

“He-he knows the people in the community, they would never do anything to me,” you managed to stammer out.

“If this husband o’ yours is real, where’s your ring?” You were startled as Ghost finally spoke up, his voice deep and rumbling as he glared at you with accusing eyes.

You put your right hand up and looked at it, faking bewilderment, “Oh! I must have left it at home this morning.”

“Ah, right, sorry for pestering you, then,” Gaz said, bowing slightly for emphasis, the other two following suit.

You gave them a small, nervous curtsy in response and smiled awkwardly at the three of them, “It’s quite alright. If you’ll excuse me, I think I should head home now.”

You started to walk away when Soap put out an arm to stop you, “Aye, but it wouldnae be right of us to let a woman walk home by herself.”

Your heart plummeted to your feet and your eyes involuntarily widened with horror.

“I should be okay walking by myself, thank you for the offer, sirs,” you said as you attempted to shoulder past Soap.

He just moved closer to you, “It wouldnae be right,” he said in a darker tone, implying this wasn’t up for debate.

You looked between Gaz and Ghost, who had blocked your other exits, and it didn’t seem like they were willing to budge on this either. You swallowed nervously, “R-right, let’s go, then.”

When you made it to your house, you had half-hoped for them to bid you a good night and go on their way.

They, of course, insisted on meeting your so-called husband and giving him a good talk about respecting his wife. You were fairly certain that at this point it was like a game for them.

It was obvious from the start that they never believed you and they knew you knew that, but that didn’t stop them from continuing this ruse, they were having too much fun.

You opened the door to an empty and dark house, it being abundantly clear that no one had been in the place since you left that morning.

“O-oh, I don’t know where he went, he must have gone looking for me since I took so long,” you lied, but winced at your wavering tone.

“Lass, we would have run into him on the way,” Soap said, making you turn around to face the three of them.

“He knows some different paths, maybe he took one of those,” you continued lying, knowing that it was never going to convince them, but you needed to keep talking or you were going to cry.

Noticing the devastated look on your face, Gaz walked forward and took your face in his hands, “It’s alright, luv, we’re not going to hurt you.”

You were shaking so bad that your teeth were practically rattling out of your skull, “You’re not? You’re.. going to leave me alone?”

Soap just shook his head, tutting at you, “We didnae say that, just that we aren’t gonna hurt ye, in fact, you’ll probably like it.”

The grin on his face made your stomach churn, and you stepped back from Gaz’s hands, backing up until you hit your bed frame. It startled you as you stumbled back into the wood, and you looked back to see what you had run into before trying to steady yourself.

When you turned back around, Gaz and Soap were practically face-to-face with you, Ghost choosing to settle in a dark corner of the room, settling into a chair as it let out a big creak of stress under his weight.

You turned your gaze back to the two knights in front of you who both have matching looks in their eyes, a mix of lust and excitement, as they eye you up and down.

“P-please don’t” you managed to stutter out.

Soap just pressed a finger to your lips, “Shhh, you’re okay. We’re going to take good care of you.”

You tried to lean out of the way as Gaz’s lips came towards yours, squeezing your eyes shut as if you could pretend all of this wasn’t happening.

Rough hands gripped your head, pulling your face towards Gaz, who captured your lips in his. As your eyes flew open, you saw that it was both Gaz and Soap’s hands that were holding you steady. Gaz’s other hand settled on your waist, gripping at the soft flesh underneath the fabric of your dress.

He leaned into the kiss, being somewhat gentle, as if he didn’t want to scare you off just so soon. You gasped softly into his lips as you felt Soap’s tongue on your neck, licking a stripe from your neck up to your face, ending it with a wet kiss to the apple of your check.

Gaz pulled away, staring blatantly down at your body before he began to undo the strings at the back of your bodice.

You tried to pull away, muttering out a soft “no” in protest, but Gaz worked efficiently enough that he was able to pull the piece over your head before you could do much else. Soap grinned down at your body, the top half of your thin chemise having been revealed.

Your hardened nipples poked through the sheer clothing, your body having betrayed you in response to Gaz’s kiss. Soap seemed transfixed as he palmed at your breast through the material, cupping both hands underneath your nipples.

“So bonnie, and just for us to see, aye?” he asked.

You couldn’t even move your mouth to answer and you just remained rooted to the spot no matter how much you wished you could move, fight them off, anything.

Soap didn’t seem to mind your lack of response, carrying on fondling your tits. While Soap was transfixed, Gaz slipped off your skirts, leaving you now with one practically translucent layer, which he was now starting to pull off as well.

That was when you got the courage to move, attempting to cover your body while also trying to keep your chemise on. Instead of grabbing your arms like you thought they would, Soap simply pushed you backwards so you landed with an ‘oof’ on your bed.

You tried to scramble away, slipping over your sheets in your desperation but Soap yanked you back towards them, “Behave.”

You swallowed nervously and stopped trying to struggle away, actually finding yourself nodding to his command.

He grinned, “Good girl.”

His words sent shivers down your body, ending with a fluttering in your cunt.

“Told you we were gonna make you feel good, yeah?” Gaz said, positioning himself in the space between your legs, gripping your thighs open with an ease that betrayed just how strong he was compared to you.

“I don’t want this,” you surprised yourself when you said this, having been frozen in fear just moments before.

Soap, who was now positioned in the space above your head, smiled down at you, brushing your hair back against your scalp, “Dinnae say that just yet, think ye’ll like this next part.”

Knowing that your protests would fall on deaf, uncaring ears, you shut your mouth and looked back down at Gaz who had now pulled the bottom part of your chemise up to reveal your pussy to the night air. Once again, you tried desperately to have some remaining decency and pulled your dress back down, only for Soap to grab your hands and pull them back to your chest.

He held them in an X formation with one hand gripping around both of your wrists, “Och, dinnae be naughty, lass. Wouldnae want for Ghost to have to punish ye.”

Your eyes flicked over to the man who was sitting in the corner who was staring over at the three of you, and you noticed him lazily palming at a bulge in his pants. You swallowed nervously and shook your head, looking back at Soap, “I’ll be good, I promise.”

He seemed satisfied and nodded to Gaz, who had flipped the bottom half of your chemise up once again. He pressed gentle kisses to your inner thighs, trailing up until he reached your entrance. It was horrible because even though you wanted them to stop, you needed for Gaz to hurry up and put his mouth on your aching bud.

As if sensing your thoughts, he put his lips to your clit and sucked. You couldn’t stop the whimper that slipped from your lips as he did this, your face flushing at the realization of the obscene noise that you had made.

It only egged Gaz on more as he began to practically make out with your pussy, wet smacking sounds echoing around the room.

Soap, meanwhile, had shifted your hands to pin them above your head, therefore giving him unobstructed access to your tits. He latched his mouth to your right nipple, sucking through the fabric.

He used his free hand to grope at your other breast, practically kneading it like a cat. All you could do was whimper softly, your arms and legs both being restrained. It wasn’t long before you could feel a pressure building between your legs, feeling the pleasure crescendo until it hit its peak and your body started shaking uncontrollably.

You could dimly hear Soap praising you with his mouth still on your nipple with your ears ringing slightly.

As the wave overtook you, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes back into your head. Gaz unsucked with a loud popping noise, and as your sight returned to normal, you saw him grinning triumphantly between your legs.

Soap had already unlatched from your tit, the sheer fabric that covered it being almost translucent from the saliva. Now that you had finally relaxed, or rather, was too tired to move or try to struggle, Soap let go of your arms. You left them where they were hanging above your head as you tried to catch your breath.

At that moment, Ghost stood up from the chair, startling you, as you had almost forgotten he was there.

“My turn,” he said gruffly, which made both Gaz and Soap complain loudly.

“Och, but I’m achin’ LT,” Soap complained, almost whining as he gestured to his dick which was straining against his pants.

“‘ave Kyle take care o’ you” he said matter-of-factly.

Although you weren’t sure of their ranks within the knight’s guard, it was clear that these two readily deferred to him as Soap reluctantly slipped off the bed.

Ghost walked towards you, looking you up and down with almost calculating eyes. All you could do was whimper softly as he approached you, half paralyzed from fear.

His eyes softened slightly as he looked down at you, and although you flinched as he outstretched a hand, he simply stroked your cheek with a softness you didn’t know he was capable of.

“Poor thing, probably scared out o’ your mind.”

You nodded meekly, hoping maybe he would take mercy on you and leave you alone.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good, yeah?”

He then undressed his lower half which was littered in scars and which also freed his erect cock, one that looked like it could split you in half, precum glistening at the tip.

Your eyes widened at the sight of it, “I.. I don’t think it’s going to fit.”

He shook his head, “It’s gonna fit, don’t worry, ‘sides, my boys warmed you up for me, didn’t they?”

You looked over at Gaz and Soap, the former helping Soap out by stroking along his cock with spit-slicked hands, making Soap moan out words in a language you didn’t understand. You stopped looking when Ghost’s hands found your jaw and turned your face back to him.

“Asked you a question, love.”

You nodded, but your lower lip wobbled slightly.

That just seemed to egg him on more, and his eyes crinkled through the gap in his mask. He repositioned you so you were facedown on the bed, legs dangling off the side so your ass was level with his pelvis.

He pulled up your chemise, and once again, your pussy was exposed to the night air. He sucked in a breath at the sight of it, dragging one finger up through the folds and dipping it into your hole. You inhaled sharply at the intrusion, clenching slightly on his finger in shock.

He just laughed, “Careful you don’t squeeze like that while I’m inside, yeah? ‘fraid I’d never pull out.” You took the message and forced yourself to relax, knowing that it was happening either way and it was best just to make things easier on yourself.

You tried not to jump again when he dragged his tip down your pussy, gathering the come that had collected in between your folds. Then he pressed into your hole, it traitorously sucking him in with ease.

He was able to get it in a good amount of inches before your insides started to ache. Sure, maybe you’d had a couple of fingers in there before but nothing like this, certainly not this length or girth.

You whimpered softly as he pressed in further and he soothingly pet your hair as he paused for a moment.

“You’re okay, I know, I know” he said, soothingly, “Just a bit more, okay?” You nodded weakly, knowing that it wasn’t an option to back out now.

“Good girl” he murmured softly as he pressed inch by inch into you.

You whined pitifully as his pelvis pressed against your ass, his cock now fully inside you.

It hurt, but what was worse to you was that this hurt felt.. good. You hardly had a second to take all of him before he slowly pulled out again, and stupidly, you began to hope he was done.

Those dreams were dashed the second he slammed back into you, making you cry out in surprise. He continued this, rocking back and forth into you, his cock dragging in and out of your hole as you gripped the sheets beneath you for stability.

Then, he lowered himself on top of you, bending over at his hips to press himself against your back. All you could hear were his grunts and the sound of his balls slapping against your pussy as he pounded into you.

Even though tears were building up in your eyes, you could also feel pleasure building between your legs at the continuous thrusting. Your body tensed up as you felt another wave overtake you, the sensations making your legs shake uncontrollably underneath Ghost’s.

Your breathy moans earned an even faster pace, causing a slight staccato in your breathing.

Now that your orgasm had ended, the pleasure bordered on painful and with the increased thrusts, you whimpered softly, “It hurts.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of your head and through his panting he said, “I know, I know, just a little longer. ‘m almost there.”

You felt another wave building, this time it felt too intense, too painful, but you couldn’t stop it from overtaking you just as Ghost slowed above you, grunting in your ear as he finished inside you. You couldn’t breathe for a terrifying moment, your lungs drawing in no air as your vision darkened. The ringing in your ears grew louder as you lost sensation, and eventually, lost consciousness.

When you woke up what you assumed to be a few seconds later, Ghost had pulled out of you and you were laying on your back on the bed. You could feel his and your come dripping out of your pussy which was still fluttering around nothing.

He had pulled his pants up and redone his belt, now fully dressed again.

He looked over at you, “Lost you there for a second, that good, am I?”

You didn’t really know what to say in response, sure, he was good, but he also forced his way into your home and your body. You weren’t about to praise the man that violated you. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind your lack of response, looking over to Soap and Gaz who had both finished, seeming both literally and figuratively.

Soap gave you a lopsided grin, “Put on quite a show, lass. Told ye we’d take care of ye.”

“Will you leave me be, now?” you asked bluntly. Now that they had all had their fair share, all you wanted was for them to leave so you could tend to yourself and lick your wounds.

Gaz raised an eyebrow, “Rid of you? Who said anything about that?”

Your heart sank, “I.. I just assumed that once you got what you wanted, you’d leave.”

Ghost shook his head as if you had said something egregiously stupid, “Don’t you get it? You are what we wanted, and we’re not letting you go that easily. From the moment we laid eyes on you, we had to have you.”

You looked between the three of them, this hadn’t been a spur of the moment thing, they had planned this. You knew all along that they knew you weren’t married, but you didn’t think they had planned this, all for them to take you like some unruly spoil of war at the end.

“You can’t do this, someone will wonder where I am,” you mustered the energy to sit up in bed, glaring at the three of them.

“Really? From the looks of it, you live alone, no one knows who you are, and we’re knights. It’s our duty to take things like you home, protect you, take care of you” Gaz said, taking on a more serious tone.

“Y-you can’t do this” you helplessly repeated.

“Oh, lass, we can, and we will. Dinnae worry your pretty little head about it. King John already said he would be very interested in meeting you, doubt he would be too happy if you refused,” Soap’s grin seemed almost malicious now in this lighting.

“It’s time to go home,” Ghost said, scooping you up from the bed.

You were unable to do anything but cry weakly into his shoulder as they brought you to their horses, knowing this would be the rest of your life and there was nothing you could do about it.

a/n: ah ok! first fic on this acct and actually, my first fic writing smut 🫣 so lmk what you guys think, maybe i can write a part two if you’re interested??

sword divider by @/sister-lucifer

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #soap x f!reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #cod x reader #cod x f!reader #cw noncon #cw dubcon #my fics

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heavyhitterheaux · 2 months ago

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To Date or Not to Date

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: Ja'Marr answers the famous TikTok question of "which teammate would he not let date his sister."

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a gorgeous anon 😍

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The Bengals had just wrapped up another practice on what turned out to be a windy day in Cincinnati. Everyone was making their way back into the locker room when Joe looked up and noticed that their social media team kept stopping players for what he assumed to be another TikTok that they were filming.

As Joe was approaching them along with Jake, he caught the tail end of the question that was currently being asked to Andrei and Tee.

“Which one of your teammates would you not let date your sister?”

“Love all these guys on my team, but for Geno… it's a no!” Andrei said before walking off and all of the attention was now on Tee.

“Well, Tee, what are your thoughts? Who would you not let date your sister?” Kelsey from the social media team asked him.

“Ja’Marr because he's a hoe! Oh shit, can I say that on camera?” He asked as his eyes went wide. But what he didn't notice was Ja’Marr right behind him.

“Excuse me, Tee! I heard that with your big ass mouth! They're going to have to edit this out.” Ja’Marr told him before Kelsey held the mic up to him.

“Okay, Ja'Marr you're up. Who would you not let date your sister?”

Ja’Marr looked dead into the camera and without hesitation said the name that no one expected.

“Joe.”

“Um, Ja'Marr….” Kelsey started to say when she saw Joe approaching him from behind and said nothing as Joe caught him in a headlock.

“AH! Get off me! I was just playing! Damn!”

“Well jokes on your dumbass because we're married.” Joe told him as Ja'Marr was trying to get out of his grip.

“Ouch! Okay! Okay! I take it back! Unhand me! I'm your brother-in-law!”

“And that's why you shouldn't have said it!”

“Get him again for me, Joe!” Tee yelled as Joe laughed before finally loosening his grip.

Once he finally did, the two of them continued towards the locker room.

“Joe, I'm telling your wife that you attacked me!”

“And you know good and damn well the first question out of her mouth is going to be if you deserved it or not. So therefore, I highly doubt that she would care.”

“You right. She mean as hell and would probably laugh at me. Look, I even asked you THIRTY minutes before the wedding if you were sure about marrying her. I mean better for me since she now had someone else to bother so she wouldn't be constantly blowing up my phone.”

“She still does?”

“You're right, but don't tell her I said that. Wait, am I still invited to dinner tonight?”

“Let’s call her and ask.”

“Wait, what? Joe, don't you dare tell on me.”

“Too late. Hello? Hi, baby doll. Let me tell you what your brother did at practice today.” Joe said into the phone with you on the other end.

“Oh no. Is he still in one piece?”

“I left him in one piece, but he came close to losing a body part.”

“Don't listen to him, Pebbles! I'm innocent!” Ja’Marr said as he tried to take the phone, but Joe swatted his hand away.

“He has never been innocent, so go on.” You told him as you were currently trying to pick out an outfit to go to lunch with your mom.

“So, you know our social media team is always out here and Kelsey asked him ‘which player would you not let date your sister?’ And your twin who was found in a dumpster behind Popeyes…”

“Joe, what the hell!?” Yelled Ja’Marr as he threw his hands up in disbelief.

“Stop interrupting. He decided to say my name and earned himself being put in a headlock and asked me after the fact if he is still invited over for dinner.”

You couldn't help but to immediately laugh before responding back to your husband.

“I'll go to PetsMart on my way home from lunch and get a doggy bowl to put outside for him.”

#joe burrow #joe burrow blurb #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow fanfic #joey burrow #joe shiesty #nfl imagine

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ashnnix · 11 months ago

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Various JJk men x Male husband reader

Tw: gbang,double pen,buldge,cum inflation, darcyphilia, spanking,forced marriage, dubcon,bj,polysex,cockwarming,almost NTR. Aphrodisiac,squirting

Summary:

As a husband of the famous Gojo who saved japan you always held your head high. Every man from jujutsu society is devastated to hear the news you're happily wed to the honoured one .But they always have a plan to have you in their arms, too. By having a gangbang with you and marry them after

Minors dni

fem align dni

PT.2

"Honey! I'm off to kill bunch of special grades, I might come home late!"

You hurriedly walked to your door to give your husband a good bye kiss. Being Satoru's husband is a blessing

"Leaving me without a kiss? How cruel" you jokingly said, you heard him laugh at your pun. Satoru pulled you from your waist a firm grip that almost made you whimper

"Kiss me" Without hesitation you pulled him by the neck, a quick kiss for him. You dont want to make him late you affectionately held his hands and also gave it a kiss

"Be safe okay? " Gojo gave you a warm smile, he also gave your hands a kiss his warm lips making you shiver

"You know how strong I am honey" Satoru patted your head and left your home. You didn't notice his dark smirk, eyes filled with lust. Gojo bit his lip in arousal

'Oh Y/N...'

After cleaning your home you took a break you sat on your sofa, taking a sip of the tea you made. You heard a knock from the door, you know it wasn't Satoru, it made you worried a little bit

You opened the door, your jaw dropped on the floor

It was all the men you rejected for Gojo

Looking at you with such lusted eyes looking down at you like you are their meal for the whole day

Frustrated you folded your arms glaring at the three Getou, Nanami and Choso

"When are you guys going to give up! Can't you see this ring I'm happily married!" You screamed at them while presenting your ring shining brightly

"Now now Y/N we just want to present you a gift for newly weds. We dont mean harm" Getou said smoothly with his charming smile he only use at you

Lies, its all lies and you can see it

Nanami cleared his throat avoiding eye contact

"We really meant no harm" Nanami blushed of how apron looks cute on you, he can't wait to fuck you already

"Congratulations Y/N" Choso gave you box with a cake inside, written ontop was 'Congratulations on marriage'

You felt slightly bad considering they went this far just to congratulate you. With a sigh you opened the door wider

"Fine fine, come in" you turned your back and walked to the living room you didn't hear how the three men breathed heavily, fighting the urge to pounce at you

The three sat on the couch while you take a seat on the solo sofa. You saw how Choso place the cake gently on the table, you crave something sweet today so you stand up to get a plate to eat the cake after taking off your apron

While you are rummaging to your plates the three men put a lot of aphrodisiac to the cake, enough to fuck you till morning

You grab a piece of cake, you look at the three men before taking a bite

"So how's life? Found someone yet?"

The three men clenched their hands, impatient. Their breath hitched when you finally took a bite of the cake

"We can't move on from you, Y/N"

Your body felt hot and heavy, you dropped the cake and the spoon on the floor

"Ah-ahh... wha-what is hngh! Happening?" Your confused why you suddenly felt too horny you and Satoru just had a morning sex

You tried to stand up with your wobbly legs, your cock wet from the precum its leaking. You pushed your thigh together hiding your erection but the friction from your clothes made you feel good

'nghh~ fe-feels good!more!more♡︎!" You drooled. You gasped when you realized your husband is not home. Your eyes locked in with the three males whos already taking off their clothes. Your body moves on its own, walking closer to them. Your knees went weak and fell on Nanamis chest. The smell of the mans cologne made you crazy and lose yourself

You rub your hard cock with his, Nanami groaned at the friction his dick is also getting hard

"Fuck, you feel so go-good" Nanami groaned also letting out a small whimper.Your bit your lip, Nanami's whimpering does something in your body

Getou and Choso stroke themselves at the scene letting Nanami have the first

"Go on, Kento, you can take him first"

Nanami wasted no time. He bends you over on the couch face down ass up he ripped off your shorts and boxer. His dick went harder when he saw your ass leak from being turned on

You still have your mind back, your mind is still not blank. So with your weak arms you tired to push Nanami away

"N-no you arent m-ngh!♡︎ husband, Ca-call Toru..." Your sentence was broke but they understand it well you saw Getou walked closer and crouch to give your forehead a kiss

"Satoru just buying something from the sex store for this sex we will use a lot of toys♡︎, he'll comeback later..." Choso also walked closer and pull your hair to make you look at him, you wince from the pain

'Toru...did what?'

"Right now, we, your husbands shall take care of your arousal" Your eyes almost rolled back how horny that sentence made you

You felt Nananami rubbing againts your ass, he opened the lube and squirted the liquid all over your ass making it look lewd

"Nooo...Nami haaa....st-sto- ahh!" You felt Nanami spank you leaving red hand prints on your ass

"You tell me that but your ass keeps rubbing on me" you sniffed in embarrassment .Your ass rubs on him not having enough patience

Without a warning Nanami dick plunge inside you, the hot burning sensation and the way it hit your prostate made you roll your eyes back and squirted your cum

"Oohh!!♡︎ cu-cumming!!" Your body arches as your dick continues to let out sperm. Nanami groaned and whimpered how your ass tightens around him. Getou giggled horny and hot at the scene infront of him

"You came just from inserting it? How cute Y/N" Your eyes let out tears as you lay limp on the couch, your drool soaking the sofa

"Ahh! Ahh! Haa! Ngh!"

Nanami thrust inside fast and rough, not forgiving you for rejecting him

Fwop Fwop

"Your so tight ngh!" You whimpered as you tighten up more, hearing Nanami whimper and let out sounds is making you horny

"Ohhh! Ahhh! Ah! ♡︎♡︎♡︎" your moans and whimper made Choso hot, he continued to stroke his dick. He clicked his tounge getting impatient. Choso pulled your head again his dick on your face

Getou continue to stroke his dick not stopping Choso, he understands how horny Choso already is

"Suck" Y/N hesitated and shook his head whining

"No~ do- ahh! Wanna...." Choso scoffed and slap your face hard, you didn't know why your dick twicthed

"Its not a request mmhm!" Choso grabs a hold of your hair, he pushed his dick on your mouth forcing you to deep throat him. You choked and your eyes rolled back. Tears brimming in the corner of your eyes

"Mmhm! Hmm! Ohmm!♡︎" The way Nanami thrust didn't help, it made you take Choso dick deep in your throat. Your hands went to stroke your dick ready to cum again. But Nanami pulled both of your hands taking him a lot more deeper

"Ohm! Hmm!" Your tongue continued to please Choso. Your eyes saw his face, flushed and horny. His whimpers can be heard all over the room

"Mgh...haa ahh your mouth feels good!" Choso groaned he thrust his hips the tip of his mouth hitting the deepest part of your mouth. Your jaw started to hurt already. You closed your eyes as tears flowed down your cheek. Your dick is now leaking precum staining the sofa again, your hands gripped Nanamis hands

Nanami smirked his glasses getting foggy from breathing hot air, his hips stuttered. Hes about to cum deep inside your ass, he can also feel your about to cum too. The way you shake, your ass twicthimg every thrust

Nanami leaned closer to your ear, with his deep voice whispering

"I'm gonna cum inside you" Your eyes widen, your body getting heated up

With one final thrust, both of you three simultaneously came. Your ass filled with Nanamis cum, your mouth choking on Chosos dick his semen also made you choke forcing you to swallow it all

"Mmhm! Ohmm! Mmngh!♡︎" you moaned,whimpered and cried. You kept cumming but your dick is still hard, you needed more...more!!♡︎♡︎

"Ahhh fuck you feel so good, so this is what that damn Gojo had to feel everyday" Nanami pulled his still hard dick watching a strand of cum connecting his tip to your rim

Choso also pulled out from your mouth watching you lay limp on the couch, your ass still up. Choso pulled back his hair already hot and sweaty from the sensation

"Your mouth feels good, I want- no need you everyday"

Your body layed limp shaking uncontrollably, your dick still hard, begging to cum again

Getou smirked of how fucked you looked, but not fucked enough. He will fuck you so hard till you can't speak, move passing out till morning

"Its my turn now darling"

You felt Getou big hands touch your waist, forcing you to lay on your back. He smirked darkly when he saw your dick twicth, hard and swollen stained with cum, your balls also twitching ready to let out bunch of your loads

His eyes moved to Getou catching his breath

"Choso lets double pen♡︎" Choso didn't hesitate he pulled you up from your armpits. Suprised you didn't fight back, he smirked how you just gave up

You felt two hot dick tip touch your rim rubbing it. With your last strength you tried to push Getou away touching his pecs

"Nooo- ahh p-please....Go-toru might see ahhh~ us!"

Choso and Getou suddenly went inside you without a warning, the grith of their cock forcing your ass to take their shape.You squealed loud body twitching from the pain and pleasure all at once. Both men shake and whimpered of how tight your ass felt. Both men groaned their dick touching each other inside you, hitting your deepest parts

"Ohhh! Shoo big! Im gonna cu-cumming!!" You came from the sensation the way they hit your deep parts sends electricity in your brain making you dumb on their dick

"Ooh! Big shoo good!! Ngh!~♡︎" the three men were shocked how hot and lewd your body reacts to double pen

The two men inside you only smirked darkly. They both simultaneously thrusted harshly inside hitting your prostate again and again without any breaks

Your eyes rolled back your pupils turned hearts. Your body arched your head resting on Choso shoulders. You saw his face eyes closed, focusing on pleasing his husband

"Sh-shit Y/N! You haa...ahhh..oh! Feel so good!" Getou moans are so much whinier than the two men

Nanami continued to watch the scene taking a break by drinking water

"Y-Y/N....mhm! Ohh!" Choso moans become much more needier the way his hips stuttered, his eyes almost rolled back of how tight your ass clenched around the both of them

Getou thrust was violent he cannot also forgive you for rejecting him. At your dumb fuck state you must realized now how these men are obsessed with you

Your hands touched the buldge in your stomach, whining of how deep they are inside you

Fwop fwop

The thrust becomes sloppy because of Nanamis' previous orgasm making your ass more wet

"Ahh! Haa! Ah! Choso~ Su!Suguru!" The two men suddenly came, moaning their name made them cum quick. You just had a strong effect on them

The feeling of being full to the brim, hot sweaty men all over you made you cum again. Your dick squirted all over, making a mess on your chest and stomach. Some got in Getou's cheek

Getou wiped it using his fingers, he put it inside his mouth, shaking on how sweet your cum taste

"Haa...n-no more..." But your dick didn't listen. it's still hot and hard

The two men stayed inside you, cockwarming them. Your body continues to be shaking, twicthing. Its your body who begs for more not you

You heard your front door open a familiar voice you heard

"Oh, Y/N! Im back! Look what I bought! Bunch of lube and vibrator!" The voice of Gojo made your heart drop, you saw him enter the living room. Your eyes filled with tears of how shocked he looked

"Toru....I'm sorry I'm such a bad husband..." You sniffled your tears, looking away from him ashamed of how you look. A whore who who just fucked his coworkers and friends

The two men inside you decideds to pull out, bunch of cum leaving your insides a small puddle of cum on the couch

You felt Gojo hands patted your head lovingly

"The others are on their way, Sukuna, Naoya, and Toji...so while we wait want another round?" Your eyes showed confusion. You want to stop, but your dick keeps getting hard . With hesitation, you nodded. After this, you want an explanation

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fluentmoviequoter · 1 year ago

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Lost Time

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!wife!reader

Summary: Jason comes home to you, his wife, after a mission and makes up for lost time.

Warnings: fluff and comfort! brief mention of the Lazarus Pit and human trafficking

Word Count: 1.3k+ words

A/N: I really want to write a lengthy oneshot for Jason but I don't know if I capture him well enough. I don't get many DC requests but I love them so much!!

Picture from Pinterest (WFA Jason >>>)

Masterlist | DC/Jason Todd Masterlist | Request Info

Jason Todd leaves, it’s what he does. Sometimes there are warnings, direct and indirect, but other nights he leaves while you sleep or simply doesn’t come home when he should. That’s who he is, what he does. There is more to Jason than meets the eye; he isn’t just Jason, Red Hood, or Bruce Wayne’s dead and nearly forgotten son. One piece of Jason makes him whole: being your husband brings him back, every single time. Jason leaves, but the time you spend alone is spent in confidence that he will come back to you, even if he’s broken and crawling.

While Jason is in Blüdhaven helping his brothers with a mission that Bruce doesn’t know about, you spend the time alone missing him. He hates leaving you, but you understand. That doesn’t mean, however, that you just wait for him to come home. Being married is supposed to be a 50/50 arrangement, yet you have given everything to Jason and there is not a single thing you wouldn’t do for him.

Tonight, nearly 96 hours after you last saw Jason, you make yourself comfortable with one of his books. The pages are yellowed from use, and highlights and notes fill the margins and the empty pages. Each word reminds you of Jason, and though you miss him, you refuse to look at his empty side of the bed. In the time since he left, promising to come back to you with a kiss and a tap to your wedding ring, you have read several of his books, cooked his favorite meal, and baked his favorite goodies. The distractions you created are all centered around Jason because despite what you tell yourself about needing to think about other things, Jason Todd takes up every single one of your thoughts. He’s captivating, and you never want to escape him.

Your phone beeps as you finish a page of Frankenstein. After taking a calming breath, you read the message from Barbara.

The bats are Gotham-bound.

The message makes you smile, and you rise from the bed to prepare for Jason’s return. He has come home without a scratch, drenched in blood, and everything in between. In sickness and health, you vowed, and you plan to keep it. With his favorite food already prepared and water heating in the kettle on the stove, you sit on the couch and wait for his entrance. The front door is behind you, and you watch as the Red Hood lands on your fire escape and expertly navigates into your home. His home.

The couch is empty by the time he turns from the now-closed window, and your arms loop around his waist as he moves. Jason chuckles at your immediate attention and pulls his helmet off.

“Miss me?” he asks.

You can hear his smile in his voice, and as Jason’s arms wrap around you, you sigh and release every fear and worry that had been pushed into the back of your mind.

“I need to shower,” Jason says, though he doesn’t move his hands from your back. “Blüdhaven is gross.”

“And Gotham is known for its cleanliness,” you argue.

“Get off,” Jason grumbles.

He raises his hands to your shoulders and easily pushes you back. You look at him as you raise your hands to hold his wrists. Jason’s gaze is soft and his touch is softer.

“Ten minutes,” he requests quietly.

“Someone needs pampering,” you tease. “Take your time. There’s food and tea if you want any.”

“Just wan’ you,” he murmurs.

Jason leans in and kisses your forehead quickly. He avoids your hands as you reach out for him. You laugh as he walks away, and the sound brings Jason home. He’s physically home, yes, but he is only home when you are completely and wholly with him.

The water echoes through the apartment as Jason enters the shower, and you prepare two mugs of tea before carrying them into the bedroom. You would wait forever for Jason, but as you lean back and close your eyes, content listening to him move through your shared home, you know that you’ll never have to wait long.

When Jason enters the bedroom clad in a pair of Wonder Woman sweatpants and smiles at you, everything seems better. The darkest Gotham day can’t cast a shadow on what you and Jason have. Before Jason left, he told you all you needed to know about the mission, and you won’t bring it up again. If he wants to talk about it, he will, and you’ll listen.

You raise the blanket as Jason approaches the side of the bed. He doesn’t hesitate to join you and pull you closer. After looping your arms over his shoulders, you push your fingers into Jason’s wet curls and twist them gently around your fingers. His white streak is closest to you, yet you concentrate your attention elsewhere to keep your eyes locked on his.

“You read it again, didn’t you?” Jason asks.

His eyes threaten to flutter closed, but he forces them open to talk to you.

“Read what?” you whisper.

“Tell me what I missed,” he requests.

You know he can see his books piled on your nightstand, but you enjoy the smile he gives you when you pretend not to know what he’s talking about. Jason pulls your hands away from his hair, opting to hold you against his side. You lay a hand over his heart and gently trace the bottom of a scar. You know his scars by heart, and each story behind them is ingrained in your memory.

“Not much,” you answer after a moment.

“Did you do anything? Because everything you do is important, and I want to hear about it,” Jason argues.

You lean closer and spread your fingers flat against his skin. His heart thrums steadily beneath your hand, and you think your heart beats in time with his.

“Maybe you just married me for the post-mission cuddles,” you say.

“Or maybe I just married you because I love you. I love you for accepting all of me and loving the parts that I don’t let anyone see.”

“Jason,” you hum.

“You didn’t tell me about what I missed,” he replies.

The first raindrop hits the window, and Jason is reminded that he’s back in Gotham. He’d move to Metropolis and listen to Clark as long as you were by his side, but being in your arms in his home town is a feeling unlike any other.

“I’ll take it you didn’t go to the manor,” you deflect.

“Why would I when I have a beautiful wife waiting at home for me and four days to make up for? Lost time with you will always be more important than Bruce.”

You sigh before you begin telling him about what you did. There isn’t much to tell. You read one of his books, cleaned, cooked, baked, and read another book.

“You baked?” Jason interrupts. “And didn’t bring it up until now?”

“I thought time with me was more important.”

Jason furrows his brows as he turns, pulling you to lay on top of him. When you first started dating, Jason was hesitant to initiate any sort of physical touch. Not long before, he had been Gotham’s most-feared crime lord and the rage caused by the pit was still present. Now, there is nothing to stop Jason from touching you: no fear of hurting you, no concern of scaring you away, and no doubt that you won’t love him once you see his darkest secrets. Jason’s scars, his past, and his nightly activities make him the man you love, and you love those parts of him, not the other way around.

As you cuddle with the man who recently scared human traffickers into turning themselves in to the authorities rather than running into him again, you simply enjoy being together. Your husband Jason and Red Hood Jason aren’t the same, yet you love them both equally.

“Do you really want to make up for lost time?” you ask over the rain.

Jason thinks your voice is more soothing and melodic than any rainstorm could dream of being. He pries his eyes open to answer, “Every second of it.”

You nod and lay your head against his chest. With your hearts pressed to one another and your fingers intertwined with Jason’s, you know that you are loved, and Jason knows you will always be here when he comes home.

You’re nearly asleep when you mumble, “’S a lotta time.”

Jason smiles but doesn’t move because he doesn’t want to disturb you. “Never enough time with you,” he whispers against your temple.

#hanna writes✯#jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd #batfam #red hood #red hood x reader #requests #fem!reader #dc comics x reader

1K notes · View notes

hamburgerndsprite · 2 months ago

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Sprite's Favourite Fics {Bangtan Fics} Part 11

Note: (I'll keep updating the lists as I read more fics. Also, all the moodboards are edited by me therefore I request everyone not to repost them as theirs)

[Masterlist]

[OT7]

{ONESHOT}

➺ Tangled Hearts by writersrealmbts

Pairing: Hybrid! Poly! Bts x Reader Genre: hybrid au, Monsta X cameos, Angst, Fluff, Suggestive Stuff, SFW Wordcount: 22,844 Description: Hybrid!ot7 x reader: You have seven hybrids and life with them can be both good and stressful. Some days are better than others, but in the end, you know that they’re always there for you, in more ways than one.

{SERIES}

➺ Royal/Bodyguard AU by jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue

Pairing: Bodyguard! BTS x mafia princess! Reader Genre: fluff + angst Summary: your bodyguards became your best friends and you couldn’t imagine your life without them. Chapters: 7/7

➺ Before I Leave You by hollyhomburg [ONGOING]

Pairing: Beta! Yoongi, Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin, Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia Au, BTS x Reader Parts: 80 chapters Posted Summary: Someone always has to leave first; They just didn’t expect Yoongi to come back with a new omega (who’s clearly been through some shit).

➺ A Place Called Home by agustdakasuga

Pairing: vet! reader x Arcticfox!Seokjin, Panther!Yoongi, Goldenretriever!Hoseok, Wolf!Namjoon, Calicocat!Jimin, Tiger!Taehyung, Rabbit!Jungkook Genre: Hybrid!AU, Poly!AU?, Soulmate AU, romance, fluff, humour Parts: 25/25 Summary: Having saved your own injured hybrid, you were determined to try and help any other hybrid that crossed your path who needed saving. But being a vet in a small hospital wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to do more, you wanted to make a difference. You wanted to give them a home.

[KIM NAMJOON]

{ONESHOT}

➺ Growth by happy-meo

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader Genre: Fluff, mild angst Summary: Namjoon was everything you weren’t but you were everything Namjoon wasn’t.

➺ Autumn Night by sodoyouknowbts

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader Genre: Romance, steamy smut Summary: You attend an event to support Namjoon, who is the keynote speaker for the night. You can’t help but feel insecure about the attention and the advances he is receiving from the girls he lectures. You attempt to leave the event early, but he stops you, intent on reminding you exactly what you mean to him.

[KIM SEOKJIN]

{ONESHOT}

➺ With You by yoonpobs

PAIRING. kim seokjin x reader GENRE. marriage!au, divorce!au, childhood friends2lovers!au, angst, fluff, smut WORDS. 22.1k SUMMARY. Marrying your childhood best friend was not the love story that most painted it to be. you knew that better than anyone else.

➺ Turn Back Time by raplinesmoon

pairing: baseball player!Seokjin x doctor! reader (based on the movie 13 Going On 30) genres/au/rating: fluff, humour, angst, smut, time travel au, 18+ word count: 13.3k summary: After total humiliation at his middle school baseball try outs, Kim Seokjin wants nothing more than for his awkward years to fade away until he’s thirty. Cue a magic baseball glove, and his wish is finally granted. Seokjin suddenly wakes up seventeen years later, now the star pitcher of the team he’d always dreamed of playing for. Confused and overwhelmed at the prospect of the new life waiting for him, he turns to the only person who seems to understand him — you. Will Seokjin learn what it truly means to be thirty, flirty, and thriving? Or will he find himself wishing he could turn back time?

➺ Good Girl by Jamaisjoons

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: seokjin x reader x yoonji x jimin ❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut • some fluff, pwp au. ❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 23k : ) ❥ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 accidentally walking in on your boyfriend’s flatmate, min yoonji, and her boyfriend park jimin, was probably the best thing you’d ever done. 〞

➺ The End by Jimlingss

➜ Pairing: Jin x Reader ft. OT6 ➜ Words: 31k ➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Angst ➜ Summary: It’s been a habit of yours to vent in the form of love letters. There’s six in total. They’re kept secret, hidden in your closet. But on your 30th birthday, what you least expect is for each letter to become reality. All done by the whacky ghost of Christmas future trying to grant your birthday wish.

➺ Lost and Found by taleasnewastime

Pairing: Jin x reader Genre: fluff; angst; sfw; strangers to lovers. Word count: 21.2k Summary: What do you do when your whole world comes crashing down around you? When everything you loved turns out to be a lie? When your fiancé tells you he’s been having an affair, you feel like your whole world comes crashing down, but then you find an antiques shop and the strange man that runs the shop helps you slowly rebuild your life and realise maybe not everything about you is broken.

[MIN YOONGI]

{ONESHOT}

➺ Bangtan's Receptionist by wooataes

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Min Yoongi x Fem! Reader, implied ot7 x Fem! Reader Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: Mafia AU, swearing, Death, blood, injuries, mentions of human trafficking but nothing too detailed, guns, character death. Summary: Bangtan’s contracts are clear and concise. They are to be followed to the letter, including the most important rule, do not touch their men.

➺ Crave You by borathae

Pairing: Yoongi x f. Reader Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut, some Fluff, smol lil Angst Summary: ”You should be angry at him for breaking his promise to you, but how could you, if kissing him feels so good? Or alternatively: all it takes is a small fight to discover a kink you and your fiancé share...”

➺ Anything by jiminrings

pairing: yoongi x reader wordcount: 10k glimpse: yoongi doesn't want to move on from his ex because she's everything he's ever known, whereas you want to move on from him because he's everything you've ever loved. alternatively, yoongi's your best friend and you've been in love with him your whole life.

➺ The Final - Day 02 by yoongiofmine

Pairing: DDAY!Yoongi x Groupie!Reader Genre: idol au, porn with a lot of plot, one-shot WC: 16k Summary: You've been Yoongi's go-to companion for the past few years, well aware that's all you were going to be. Despite your very real, growing feelings for the rapper, you took what you could get every time. Now, you're backstage at day two of the final leg of his tour when another member takes an interest in you. Will it be enough to make Yoongi realize he's got competition?

➺ Damn the Charcuterie Board [M] by bratkook

pairing: min yoongi x reader x park jimin genre: light crack, smut, pwp, warnings: threesome (obvs), oral sex, face riding, unprotected sex, sloppy seconds, stupid jokes about raw meat lmfao word count: 6.7k of pure filth

{SERIES}

➺ Take Five by jiminrings

pairing: yoongi x reader wordcount: 10k genre: angst, fluff, unrequited love, so much pining glimpse: dr. min yoongi’s a board-certified dermatologist; skilled, renowned, and in-demand — oh and also, he’s divorced. alternatively, you’re yoongi’s nurse and you have a crush on him, and he gives you five chances to ask him out — he never said anything about accepting though.

➺ Oh, Baby! by honey-boyyoongi [ONGOING]

Pairing: single dad! Yoongi x Reader Genre: Fluff, angst, crack, neighbor au Chapters: 60/61 Summary: Min Yoongi, is a simple man. He likes his coffee black and iced, he enjoys his job, and he loves his baby girl. But what happens when the new neighbor, quite literally, drops into his life?

➺ Pink Bird House by 54daysormore

Pairing: Single Dad! Yoongi x Reader ft. Mini Tae Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Tae is yoongi's baby Parts: 25/25 Synopsis: Tae really wants a pink bird house, but his dad is definitely too busy to make one with him. Enter Y/N. Then exit Y/N. Right?

[MIN YOONJI]

{ONESHOT}

➺ La Petite Mort by snackhobi

pairing: assassin! Min Yoonji x assassin! reader word count: 9.7k genre: f x f smut, assassin! Au summary: Based on a post that said: "my ex-wife sent an assassin on me but I sent an assassin on that assassin & they fell in gay love & now they're having sex in my guest bathroom"

➺ As we go along by ddaenggtan

pairing | min yoonji x reader genre | NSFW; Fluff, Smut, a dash of Angst bc why not, idiots to lovers, enemies to lovers, Awkward Gays, Idiot/Oblivious Gays, OH The Min Twins aka Yoongi and Yoonji are siblings uwu wc | 10.4k summary | Four years ago, the beautifulstunningattractivefrustrating Min Yoonji came into your life. Ever since, it’s been a competition between the two of you to win the HOA’s Holiday Decorating Contest. The fiery looks she gives you paired with the pointed insults throw you off your game every year, but not this time. This holiday season, you’re determines to win; and along the way you might just find that Yoonji’s been trying to win something else. ;OR the queer hallmark movie of your dreams.

➺ The Song Thief by justanotherstarlightmonger

Pairing: Idol! Min Yoonji x Idol! Female reader Genre: Smut, fxf, idol! au Word count: 4.5 k words Summary: Min Yoonji makes sure you're not stealing her latest song

➺ Good Girl by Jamaisjoons

➺ Chatoyant by jincherie

pairing: min yoonji x reader genre: hybrid!au, magic!au/ witch!au, familiar!au, smut, slight angst words: 15.5k summary: You’re a witch, and Yoonji is your familiar. The tension between you has been rising steadily over the months, and comes to a head after Jungkook and Taehyung pull an April Fools joke that doesn’t quite go right. Perhaps you should thank them for how things turned out... right after they finish running from Yoonji, that is.

[JUNG HOSEOK]

{ONESHOT}

➺ Midnight Rendezvous [M] by kookscrescent

➤ pairing│Hoseok x female reader ➤ genre│smut, fluff, boyfriend au ➤ word count│6k ➤ summary│Because of a rule that was implemented at Hoseok’s apartment, he has to sneak you in without his roommates finding out. But perhaps you were a little too loud...

➺ Us by honeymoonjin

pairing: idol! Jung Hoseok x gf! reader genre: FLUFF, established relationship, idol au summary: ❝ Among the publicity of being an idol, hoseok wants his proposal to be a private affair. ❞

[PARK JIMIN]

{ONESHOT}

➺ 100 km/hour [M] by chateautae

➵ pairing: fuckboy!jimin x f. reader ➵ genre : college!au, smut, pwp ➵ rating : 18+ ➵ word count : 7k ➵ summary : what exactly happens when you and your friends have to pile into one car for the ride home after an insane halloween party, and you find yourself sitting in park jimin’s lap? especially when he's dressed as an angel, and you're in the sluttiest devil costume ever?

➺ Sugar, Spice And Everything Nice by dovechim

➾ pairing: weak sperm jimin x witch! reader ➾ wordcount: 13k ➾ genre: a crack smut essentially ➾ summary: you and jimin have been trying for a baby for the past six months, to no avail, but then you realise one crucial mistake: you’ve been neglecting your witchy heritage. what ensues is a month of trial and tribulation... for jimin at least.

➺ All into You [M] by taegularities

pairing: Jimin x female reader genre: fantasy!au, HP!au, established relationship, fluff, some crack, basically pwp wordcount: 7.1k Summary: “The weather. It was nice today, no?” you repeated yourself, your gaze meeting his hazy, lustful eyes. “You’re literally riding me right now.” Teasing your boyfriend while being surrounded by your closest friends? Entertaining. But when he drags you away to punish you for it? That’s when you’re in for a ride.

➺ Damn the Charcuterie Board [M] by bratkook

➺ Let's get Quizzical by taleasnewastime

Pairing: Jimin x reader Genre: friends to lovers; fluff; angst; smut Word count: 28.6k Summary: Thursday night pub quizzes with your friends are a must. One of those friends being your long-term friend, long-term crush, Park Jimin. At this point 99.9% of the population knows you have feelings towards him, Jimin being the 0.1% that doesn’t. But what happens when a bet goes wrong and your weekly quizzes become more complicated than fun?

➺ Into the Wilderness by gukyi

pairing: park jimin x female reader genre: angst, fluff, comedy, camp counselor!au, unrequited love!au, friends to lovers!au word count: 27k summary: alright, so last summer’s camp was... disastrous. from the murky green showers to the wasps nests, it was all-around a bad time. but none of those things could be quite as catastrophic as the end-of-camp counselor campfire, when you told park jimin that you were in love with him. and if telling him was terrible, then seeing him again this summer, one year after your fruitless confession, just might be the death of you.

➺ Turn to Stone by jjungkookislife

❄ pairing: gorgon!jimin x elemental!reader ❄ genre: established relationship, supernatural au, smut [18+] ❄ wc: 8.4k ❄ summary: Childhood best friend turned boyfriend has only wanted one thing in his life, to be able to look you in the eyes without the risk of turning you into stone. The last (and only) time it occurred, it was nearly fatal for you but with your anniversary coming up, he’s willing to give it another go.

➺ Home is where the heart is by bangtanfanfiction

♢ Pairing: Jimin x Idol!Reader ♢ Word count: 12K ♢ Genre: Fluff, angst if you squint ⌲ Description: You’ve been together with Jimin for about three months. But you’ve been keeping a big secret from him. A secret in the form of your 6 year old daughter

➺ Paper Hearts by namfinessed

pairing: jimin x reader genre: fluff, college au, friends to lovers word count: 9k summary: hearts fragile like paper, tear it or don’t?

➺ Potions by taleasnewastime

Pairing: Jimin x reader Genre: Prince Jimin, Healer reader, royal au, fluff, angst. Word count: 23.6k Summary: Magic is banned, to perform it is an act punishable by death, a law brought in by the queen. And yet, here you are, living in the same palace as her, defying that law by performing the magic she so hates. You don’t feel at risk of being found out, you are only a lowly healer, a nobody. But when the prince discovers you and can’t seem to leave you alone, you may not be as safe as you thought.

{SERIES}

➺ Tainted by muniiimyg

pairing: jimin + oc au/genre: est relationship, angst if you’re a crybaby, fluff COUGH COUGH jimin + oc are SOFTIES, ex-fuckboy!/ex badboy! and angelic oc, and somewhat healing vibes warnings: implied smut, one sided pining, explicit language, self doubt/hate aka insecure jimin parts: 20/20 summary: after going public with their relationship, everyone is amused as jimin isn’t exactly what they had in mind for a girl that is practically an angel. perhaps a dance with the devil is what it takes for both worlds to fall into place. + nobody thinks he’s good enough for her. she think he’s all she needs. he wants her to be right.

[KIM TAEHYUNG]

{ONESHOT}

➺ Unbreakable by smoljimjim

>Pairing: Taehyung x OC named Siri, lovers-exes-lovers >Genre: angst, small fluff, happy ending >Word count: ~16,300 >Description: Taehyung and Siri were the perfect couple and had the perfect relationship. They were known as the 'unbreakable' couple. That was until Taehyung found out something about Siri he couldn't ignore. He thought he knew everything about her, but this... this one thing was a relationship deal breaker.

➺ Requested Drabble by taleasnewastime

pairing: idol! taehyung x reader genre: fluff, smut, strangers to lovers, idol au summary: The reader meets Taehyung, but she initially has no idea who he is until he introduces himself. Taehyung is immediately drawn to her and goes out of his way to charm her. One thing leads to another, and they end up having a passionate encounter together.

➺ Sunflower Boy by happy-meo

pairing: taehyung x reader genre: fluff summary: a fluffy oneshot of when reader met taehyung for the first time. [Part of First Meeting Series]

➺ Good Luck Charm by gukyi

pairing: actor! kim taehyung x female reader genre: fluff, angst, unrequited love, friends to lovers!au, roommates!au word count: 11k summary: kim taehyung has nearly everything he’s ever dreamed of: an apartment in new york city, a lead role in an off-broadway play, and a best friend to share it with. but even still, there’s one thing missing—love. and when he goes on the hunt for it, he dots every i and crosses every t, leaves no stone unturned, but forgets to look at the person who could ever love him the most: you.

{SERIES}

➺ With a brush of fate by yoongiofmine

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x f!reader Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, idol au, strangers to lovers. Parts: 21/21 Summary: Your roommate was sure she found you the perfect man. Her boyfriend believed he found Taehyung’s soulmate. The only problem was that you never wanted to date an idol and he never wanted to drag you into this life. Taehyung didn’t even know what he wanted anymore and was tired of being criticized for simply growing up. You just wanted to finish university and do something for yourself. What started out with the meddling of your friends became something neither of you expected. Could the two of you be what the other is missing? Or would things just fall apart?

[JEON JUNGKOOK]

{ONESHOT}

➺ Daybreak by bbangtans

pairing: rockstar!ex!jk x f!reader genre/tropes: angst, fluff, exes to ???, right person wrong time/second chances, jungkook is so romance film lead coded – charismatic and well-spoken and genuine and ughhhhh i be fawning frrrr, this takes place where both jk and reader are 28ish, jk is a lead singer in a band with tae-jimin-yoongi, and y/n is a working professional wordcount: 10.1k Summary: One of your favorite things to do when you were in your early 20s was stay up late where reflective conversations eventually blurred into nonsense as the sun rose alongside someone you thought you would spend the rest of your days with… Now you’re stuck in New York City for one night due to a delayed flight with that very person standing there in his leather jacket and guitar case in hand across from you at the airport gate. See, fate is a funny thing and Jeon Jungkook could always find the humor in anything.

➺ Lucky Number 7 by smoljimjim

>Pairing: husbandJK x wifeOC named Siri >Genre: slight angst, satisfying ending >Word count: ~7500 >Warnings: swear words, JK's a cheater, the world works in mysterious ways. >Description: The seven-year itch has hit Jungkook. It hit him so bad, he did the unthinkable to his wife, Siri. How will Siri handle it?

➺ Cool with You by kooktrash

➣ pairing: afab!reader [she/her] x neighbor!jk ➣ genre/au: strangers to friends to lovers. smut. ➣ wc: 14.6k words ➣ summary: your break up from kim taehyung sent you spiraling into what felt like a midlife crisis of tear stained cheeks and tubs of half eaten ice cream with a broken heart. after finding out that your neighbor, jeon jungkook, was eavesdropping on your meltdowns and came to find out that your ex was his old friend, he found himself wanting to comfort you. he knew the kind of guy Taehyung was and he didn’t want to see you beat yourself up over a guy who wasn’t worth it so in the end he helped you through it and was unable to ignore the growing attraction you felt toward each other.

{SERIES}

➺ The Cocktail Triology by borathae

Summary: “It takes a trilogy to tell this story. It is a story of love, friendship, the hardships of being young and unexpected encounters. Experience the tingling butterflies of a summer’s love unexpected, witness the significance one little mistake can have on the lives of others and feel the exciting sparks of a love so strong it could move mountains. Find out what it means to grow up, what it takes to find yourself and how to make the best out of your granted time on earth.” 1. Tequila Sunrise 2. Purple Rain 3. Orange Ginger Tea

Tequila Sunrise by borathae

Pairing: Jungkook x f.Reader Genre: s2l!AU, Diner!AU, Biker Gang!AU, Smut, Romance Chapters: 5/5 Summary: “You always thought of your life as nothing exciting. Small town, stable job at the local diner, a roof over your head and nice friends. It didn’t take much to make you happy. But that all changes with the arrival of Jeon Jungkook, mysterious biker with dark hair, inked skin and a preference for leather jackets. It doesn’t take long for you to realise that life has so much more in store for you and Jungkook is happy to show you all of it…”

2. Purple Rain by borathae

Pairing: Jungkook x f.Reader, Yoongi x Jimin Genre: Biker Gang!AU, Road Trip!AU, Smut, Romance, Hurt and Comfort Chapters: 29/29 Summary: “Two months on the road with Jungkook and his friends and you couldn’t be happier about your life. You spend your days laughing, dancing and rolling around the sheets with the boy of your dreams, all whilst visiting beautiful places. But your idyllic life soon changes, when Taehyungs past catches up with him, putting not only him, but your entire gang in danger. Can the group get through his betrayal and if so can you outrun the danger before it is too late?”

3. Orange Ginger Chai by borathae

Pairing: Jungkook x f.Reader, occasional Taehyung x f.Reader & Taehyung x Jungkook Genre: Smut, Fluff, slice of life!AU, established relationship!AU, domestic!AU, tattoo artist!Jungkook, restaurant owner!OC Chapters: 54/54 Summary: “Snippets out of the adventure, you and Jungkook call “your life together”. This is a collection of drabbles all in the name of The Cocktail Trilogy couple. They all play after the events of the main story.”

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gay-dorito-dust · 9 months ago

Note

Can you please do some headcanons of Stanley being fake married to Fords’ assistant. They had to put up this charade for 30 years to convince people he was Stanford and “Mr. And Mrs. Mystery would bring in way more business!” Dipper and Mabel see her as a mother figure and Mabel likes to plan out their dates because she firmly believes they don’t go on ENOUGH of them. While they’re both on one of these said dates they realize “wait…do I actually like you??” (Slow burn is indeed 30 years slowwwww)

This is so fucking long oh my fucking god-I’m actually going to have to make a part two or something. This is just too long.

Part two here

When you and Ford first arrived at Gravity Falls a lot of people were under the impression that you were a married couple, where they got that preposterous idea form neither of you had single clue but as hard as you and Ford tried to disprove their claims, insisting they you were just platonic partners and nothing more.

It only seemed to give them more reason to assume that there was something more going on between you both. So in the end you both elected to ignore it as Gravity Falls was a small unknown, sleepy town that wasn’t on any recorded map that you chalked it down to them needing something to gossip about to spare them of how boring their lives were. But you and Ford knew others wise and saw Gravity Falls as a treasure trove of information regarding the mysterious and the unknown, it was the main reasons you started this partnership to begin with after all.

But things were quick to fall apart just as it seemed you were getting closer to what you knew was the truth as Ford made a deal with a triangular demon known as Bill, easily swayed by his tricks and even more so by his constant repetition that Ford should ‘trust no one’ not even you, his assistant. Naturally it caused a rift between the two of you as you were sick and tired of having to try and reassure Ford- who was slowly succumbing to paranoia- that you weren’t in any way shape or threat to his research. Even bringing up how you both spend hours on end documenting mushrooms, fungi and others of a similar vein when you both first moved to Gravity Falls.

However this tactic didn’t work in your favour unfortunately as one thing lead to another and you were left helpless as you watched Ford get pulled into the portal that his brother -Stanley- had accidentally pushed him into during their squabble, watching as it seemingly closed forever.

You wanted to be mad at Stanley, you really did but the man had just lost his brother, his twin brother seemingly forever due to his own actions. So instead you eased off of him and offered to help him with reopening the portal in order to get Ford back, while also giving a triangle demon a piece of your mind for taking advantage of your overachiever of a friend. Ford being lost seeing forever hurt you just as badly as it hurt Stanley and you would do anything and everything if it meant seeing your friend again.

That and probably scold him for ever thinking that a deal with demon would ever go down well without some sort of hidden agenda, for if a deal sounds too good to be true then it might as well be. Something you’ve learned from Stan, whom you leaned was an expert conman who conned people for a living in order to get by. You didn’t necessarily saw it as a good thing to do, living off of the nativity of people and their gullible natures, but you didn’t have much of a choice when Stan assumed the identity of his twin and even has the audacity to lean into the town’s assumptions of you and Ford being married.

‘But we’re not married!’ You spat, letting go of Stan’s hand when you got home after a trip into town, all that effort you and Ford tried in order for people to stop assuming your relationship was ruined in one fell swoop, was this town really that desperate that they’d deeply get involved in someone’s life like?

(Yes the answer was yes)

‘I know that and you know that, but they don’t have to know that. Think about all the money we could make off of this! They’d be eating out of the palm of our hands!’ Stan replied with a smile while you could only scoff, not understanding how this was Ford’s twin brother when the two were only alike in the physical sense rather then anything else.

‘Is that all you see this as? An opportunity to capitalise on their naivety? Their gullibility and for what? A quick buck?’ You argued back as you sat yourself down at the table in the kitchen and rested your head in your hands. ‘They’ll catch on eventually.’ You added sombrely as Stan could only watch you and feel a slight pan in his chest at seeing you upset and at a loss, completely the opposite of the person you were when standing next to Ford.

‘Listen toots, I know this isn’t how you expected things to go-‘

‘You think?’ You shot back, glaring at him as he held up his hands.

‘-but there’s no other option for us other then to keep the charade up until we can reopen that stupid portal and get my brother back.’ Stan then tested the waters by planing his hand atop of your own, felling you flinch slightly at the contact before relaxing when you felt his thumb rub your knuckles comfortingly. ‘But until then we’ve got to see this through until the end and hey maybe you’ll come to like me one day!’ He then adds with a smile but you couldn’t help but scoff.

‘Yeah right, the day I come to enjoy your company Stanley Pines is the day I enter an early grave.’ You replied but there was no malice in your voice like there was before and in that moment it felt like things were okay, even if it was brief but it was enough for you to want to take Stanley up on his word and see it through to the end.

Flash forward 30 years and you and Stanley were still going strong with the whole ‘fake marriage’ thing and to Stan’s credit a business ran by a married couple did work wonders on the paying public, most of whom would find more intrigue about how you two met more so then about the fake attractions that Stan tried to have them believe as things that once existed.

‘A unicorn made out of corn? Really Stan?’ You’d whisper to him as you forced a smile while clinging onto his arm while the dumb tourists took their pictures of the supposed unicorn made out of corn. ‘That has to be your worst one yet.’

‘Trust the process sweetheart, trust the process and watch as these idiots throw their money at the first ‘weird’ thing they see. They never stop to question its credibility and that’s what we bank on most.’ Stan replied before pressing a kiss to your forehead, something he always did to keep the facade alive and fresh, along with pulling you into his side by your waist and gloating about you and all your academic achievements to anyone with ears.

You hated how much he seemingly remembered about you that almost had you rethinking everything you know about this man. But then you stop to constantly reminded yourself that Stan only remembered these parts about you because he needed material to keep your story consistent and without any falling potholes, the man knew how to cover his bases that was for sure, and yet that didn’t stop you from feeling seen whenever Stan bragged about how smart his spouse was.

That’s the one thing that you mentally thanked him for. He didn’t make you play into stereotypes or change anything remotely about yourself to fit his narrative, he let you be the smart and intelligent spouse while he played the man who was happy to snag you before anyone else could and had been riding the high ever since. It was…sweet in a way that you couldn’t describe.

When Mabel and Dipper came to Gravity Falls they were naturally skeptical on whether they should stay with you and Stan, but soon enough did they warm up to you when you could match Dipper in terms of intelligence and treated Mabel with nothing but kindness and encouragement of her creativity. That and the fact that you could sway Stan into letting them do whatever by placing your hand on his bicep and bating your eyes at him.

‘Let the kids have fun, you were quite the troublemaker when you were their age.’ You told him as you played devils advocate for the kids going to the movies and Stan sighed before reluctantly agreeing to your terms.

‘Fine, fine.’ He says before pointing at you. ‘You owe me for this though honey.’

You smiled as you kissed his cheek. ‘And how can I do that?’ You asked.

‘How about you both go on a date!’ Mabel exclaimed from across the table as she pulls out a blindingly glittery and sparkly binder that had written across the front: Mabel’s date plans for Grunkle Stan and great aunt/Grunkle/ y/n.

‘How long have you had that sweetheart?’ You asked her, a little frightened to know the answer as you knew Mabel was emotionally intelligent when it came to these sorts of things.

‘Since I’ve noticed that you and Grunkle Stan don’t go on dates.’ She replies as her brows furrowed while she flicked through the pages of her binder for the perfect date for the pair of you.

‘We’re married honey, we don’t need to go on dates. Being together 24/7 is like a date all in itself.’ Stanley replied as he could feel your hand gripping his bicep tighten, wanting nothing more than to soothe that overworked mind of yours as he placed his hand over the top of yours and squeezed, shooing you a reassuring smile.

‘Not good enough!’ Mabel cried as she pointed at the pair of you. ‘I can see the love in your eyes, that love is so hard to come by nowadays and just because you’re married doesn’t mean you stop going on dates!’

‘When was the last time you did go on a date?’ Dipper asked this time as his eyes darted from you to his Grunkle as you both mentally swore to yourselves. You and Stan have never been on a date, sure you’ve both been through town together but you never actually went anywhere that would be considered a date. After all your marriage was just for show and tell and not the real thing, despite how much you’ve grown to like how he held you at night or looked at you as though you hung the stars in the sky.

‘A long time kiddo.’ Stan told him. ‘And it was the date where I realised that I wanted to be with them for the rest of my life.’ He adds, his eyes softening when the looked at you, making you smile in response as you moved your hand to squeezed his.

‘Awwww!’ Mabel cooed as she watched you and her Grunkle look at each other so tenderly. it was obvious to her that you meant a lot to her Grunkle Stan and he meant a lot to you too that she couldn’t help but hope to find a love like yours one day herself. ‘Which is why I think you should both go on a date tonight! Right Dipper?’

Mabel punches dipper in the shoulder. ‘Yeah you both defiantly should go on a date.’ He agrees as he rubs his shoulder.

You and Stan looked at one another and knew that there was no getting out of this one, but you were both kind of excited for it at the same time, after all what was going to happen? You both actually realise you like each other after all this time? Preposterous.

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls imagine #gravity falls imagines #gravity falls #stanley pines imagines #stanley pines imagine #stanley pines x reader #stan pines imagines #stan pines imagine #stan pines x reader

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gold-onthe-inside · 2 months ago

Text

with love, from reid

who? spencer reid (s8) x blake!reader summary: after a case ruins spencer's carefully planned valentine's date, he does his best to make up for it. but all you needed was him. and all the gifts in the world are nothing compared to yours. word count: 3.3k based on: Valentine’s Day Request - Spencer and his partner are separated for Valentines Day (maybe he went to go visit his mom or he was on a special assignment like in Minimal Loss and a storm grounded flights) but he uses every method possible to give his partner the most amazing Valentines Day ever. a/n: i'm so sorry for sitting on this request forever, but inspiration struck today i guess. hope you like it anon.

Spencer’s not like other guys. It’s the mantra you have to keep using to keep your head on straight. But being cheated on by someone you had been about to marry changes your whole perspective on things. Makes it harder to trust, even the most angelic man you’ve ever met. You have to take a deep breath every time he gets a call from JJ or Penelope, have to remind yourself that there’s a valid reason for every missed date, every morning you wake up without him. Because it’s scary how much you like him, how often you think about him.

The scarce amount of time you both get makes the little moments more important, and he knows it. In his head, he’s been building it up, down to the cardigan he would wear on the 14th. He’s calculated the exact amount of time it takes to get from Quantico to your hospital, chosen a restaurant within walking distance — something right up your alley with exotic food and a quiet atmosphere. He knows how many footsteps it’ll take to get there, how many topics you can cover, all of it, down to miniscule details. The flower arrangements that would wait for you both. The menu he had memorised in his head, knowing exactly what you would order. The average time it would take for you both to finish eating while talking. The train back to his apartment, where your favourite movie would be waiting.

If only he could control this unsub the same way. But they were no closer to finding the unsub on the 13th as they were two days ago. He’d been putting off the call all day, staring at his phone until Alex had pointed it out, unravelling the first stitch of his sealed lips. The seam split and he told her everything — the date he’d planned, the flowers he’d bought in advance, the reservation that was waiting for you. He receives the pat on the knee he’d been expecting from Alex, the promise that you’d be understanding (who would know better than her, really?), and her stern voice telling him to call you.

You can hear the regret in his voice when he calls, the tired fatigue that makes you smile sympathetically. “Did you get home okay?” he asked, scuffing the back of his sneakers against the floor, standing right outside the precinct, stars glittering above him, much brighter in Tennessee than in DC. It’s a whole nother date on his bucket list — going star-gazing with you.

“Yeah, just now,” you replied, and he can see you in his mind’s eye, taking off your boots and neatly arranging them in your rack, keys in a clay dish that an 8 year old had made for you, the crick in your neck that he wants to massage for you. “How about you? Any closer to finding your strangler?”

“No,” he huffs, leaning against the railing. There’s a slight chill in the air, but he can’t feel it, not right now. He just wants to hear your voice. “But that’s not important — I just wanted to make sure you made it home safe.”

You huffed a small laugh, and he can hear you bustling around over the call, maybe changing into your pyjamas, or hunting for ingredients to make a quick dinner for one, and a frustrated ache builds behind his eyes. He wants to be there, with you, listening to old jazz music and making dinner and small talk. “I think I’m in less danger than the FBI agent hunting down a serial killer, honey.”

“You’re always in less danger than I am,” he grumbles, the beginnings of a smile playing at his lip. He closes his eyes, tilting his head back and picturing the dimly lit kitchen in your apartment, the scent of spices and the warmth of old vinyl records. “I miss you,” he confesses in a soft, almost broken tone.

He hears you pause, a palpable beat passing before you murmured, “I miss you too.”

“I wish I could be there,” he says. He wants to run a hand down your back, trace his knuckles over your cheek to feel the softness of your skin. “I had a whole night planned for us tonight.”

"I know, lovely," you murmured, leaning on the kitchen counter, phone pressed to your ear. "There'll be other nights."

He sighs. He hates having to cancel on you, especially now, when they’re already so rare. “Not like this one,” he mutters, and he knows you can probably tell by his tone that he’s pouting like a child.

“Why, because tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day?” you asked, talking while making a quick pasta.

He’s quiet for a second. Then — “Yes,” he admits in a near-whine. “It was going to be a special night.”

"Spence... Every day is Valentine's Day with you," you said, knowing exactly how cheesy you sound and running with it anyway.

Spencer’s just grateful you can’t see his face right now, because he knows he’s blushing a little, that he has an adorably smitten smile on his lips and he’s sure it would only embarrass him if you could see. “Sap,” he accuses lovingly.

"Said the man who collects ticket stubs of every movie we see," you retorted, grinning into the phone.

He sputters. “That’s — that’s — you’re not supposed to know about those,” he complained. “I keep those for myself, they’re a private collection for a reason.“

“Wow, what happened to what’s yours is mine?” you teased him, watching the pasta boil, and Christ, you felt like a lovestruck teenager right now, like those sickly sweet couples in Hallmark movies.

“That’s — there’s exceptions to that rule,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t you dare touch those. I’ve sorted them in chronological order, by the way — if one is out of place, I’ll know it was you messing around, looking over my things.”

You laughed into the phone, bright even with how tired you felt, because he brought it out of you, a glowing feeling in your chest that made the ache in your feet hurt a little less. It’s a sound that never fails to make his heart skip — the softest, most wonderful noise he’s ever heard. “I wish I was there,” he says again, his voice suddenly quiet and heavy with want.

"I know," you said quietly, watching the water grow cloudy as your pasta cooks. "But those women need you more than I do right now, Spence."

“Stop using logic on me,” he says, only half-joking, his expression serious even though you can’t see it. “I want to be selfish with you tonight.”

"Sweetheart, you don't have a selfish bone in your body," you replied affectionately.

“It’s not fair,” he complains, still playing the part of the pouting child in his mind, just whining and grumpy because he wants to be with you. “I was going to give you flowers, and take you out to dinner, and I was going to drive you home and kiss you so much—”

"We can still do that," you said, cutting him off before he could fill your head with ideas and then you could say goodbye to sleeping peacefully tonight.

“Not tomorrow,” he says. He’s almost definitely pouting right now, staring down at the pavement, his eyes dark under his lashes. “And it’s only Valentine’s once a year, I wanted it to be perfect.”

You fretted as you turned the gas off, putting off straining the pasta as you turned into the phone. “Why’s this so important to you, angel?” you asked softly.

It’s one of the things he loves about you — the gentleness with which you handle him, the way you ooze with care and curiosity instead of coddling concern. “This is our first Valentine’s,” he replies, slightly petulant. “And I wanted it to be good. Something you could look back on. I had it all planned out.”

Christ, you could cry with how much Spencer cared about you. You couldn’t remember anyone, boyfriend or not, who loved you this much. “You know it would’ve been perfect, regardless, right?” you asked gently. “You and me, that’s all I need. Even if it’s over a phone line.”

He’s quiet for a moment, just listening to you speak. “You deserve the best,” he says eventually. “You deserve flowers. And an elegant restaurant. And a movie. And a home cooked meal.” And me, he wants to add, but he doesn’t. “Not a phone call and the knowledge that your boyfriend is across the country.”

"Sweetheart, I get all of that from you even when it isn't Valentine's," you said, in that same gentle tone. "Besides, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you were here when you could be catching a killer."

“Why do you have to be reasonable?” Spencer groaned, rubbing a hand over his face again because you’re being entirely too logical for him to fight with right now. “That’s not fair.”

You chuckled, crossing your arms and leaning on the counter. "We'll have a make-up date, I promise," you said. "Just how you planned it."

That seems to pacify him a little bit, because he lets out a soft sigh. “Okay,” he agrees, slightly begrudgingly. “But I’m in charge of planning. You don’t get a say in the matter.”

You fake a tsk, as if planning mattered at all to you. "Fine. Whatever you decide."

That makes a soft, contented sound form in his throat — one bordering on possessive. “That’s what I thought,” he says, and you can all but envision the smirk on his lips.

"Go find your killer," you chided him, grinning stupidly, but there's no bite in it.

He lets out an amused huff. “Yes ma’am,” he teases, before his tone softens again. “I miss you. I’ll try to come home as soon as I can, okay?”

"Okay," you replied. "Stay safe, please."

“I will,” he promises, because he knows how much the thought of him getting hurt scares you. “Don’t worry about me.”

You snorted quietly, like it was possibly to not worry about him on cases. "Bye."

“Bye,” he responds quietly, and he wishes he could kiss you goodbye, trace the line of your lips with his fingers and feel the pulse in your neck against his fingers. “Sweet dreams.”

"You too," you whispered before hanging up. Spencer stands there for another moment after the call ends, his phone still in his hand and his heart heavy, and he wonders if it’s possible for someone to actually ache from missing someone this much.

And then Morgan’s calling him inside with his newly minted nickname since dating you — ‘lover boy’ — to adjust the geographic profile and he’s unwillingly dragged back into the vortex that is his job. And he has to shove any thoughts of you to the back of his mind for the time being, the lingering ache at the edge of his chest a constant, nagging thing that he has to continuously push past to focus on the case.

The whole team is working hard to try and solve this, but progress is slow. Somewhere between analysing blood spatter patterns and doing his own research to figure out their unsub’s deal, he does his best to plan your make-up date, paranoid that someone would see him looking for places to take you and make his day worse. Eventually, tired of having to look over his shoulder, he bites the bullet and calls Garcia for help, even if it would no doubt get back to Morgan and the rest of the team.

And then he has to deal with Garcia’s excited squealing, her incessant questions about you both, her comments about how cute he is and how she needs to meet you. He keeps his head down and grits his teeth, because he knows she means no harm, and it’s a small price to suffer through just to have this night be perfect.

The first thing to arrive was a bouquet of tulips with your morning paper waiting outside your door, a pretty arrangement of red and pink that matched the outfit you were going to wear to work — the whole department had agreed to come in red, white, and pink colours — and you can’t stop smiling as you go to put in a vase with water.

He gets the picture texted to him in the middle of a briefing with Hotch and the team, barely able to restrain his smile as he checked his phone under the table.

You: They’re beautiful, thank you.

He’s oblivious to Morgan giving him an odd look as he texted you back:

Spencer: Only the best for the most beautiful girl in the world.

Spencer tucks his phone back into his pocket when the meeting ends, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Morgan. He knows he’s going to get bombarded with questions he doesn’t feel like answering, and for once he’s glad they have a case to work on so he can use that as an excuse not to interact with him.

The second arrival was a package sent to your office, because of course he had your shift schedule memorised, and you signed for it, grasping the brown paper package that was obviously a book back to your desk. There’s no reason for you to hide it, not in the sanctity of your own office, but it’s as if you’re back in school, your crush sending you a note that you unfurl under your desk, finding a hardbound copy of Persuasion, arguably your favourite Austen novel.

You do your best not to blush, picking up your phone to text him, chewing on your lip before flipping to the right chapter and sending him a direct quote.

You: There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison.

Spencer’s in the middle of examining a body when you sent him the text. But as soon as he feels his phone vibrate, he pulls it out without a second thought, uncaring of the fact that Morgan and Rossi are looking his way. He has to hold back a smile because no, he won’t give Morgan any ammunition.

Spencer: You have my whole heart.

“You two are sickening, I hope you know that,” Morgan told him, a smirk on his lips.

Spencer’s head snaps up in alarm at the sound of his voice, and he quickly drops his phone in his pocket, face flushing. He’s silent for a minute, trying to regain his composure and come up with something to defend himself. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he replied weakly.

"Uh-huh," Rossi replied, masking a smile. "Can we look at the body now, or does your girlfriend have more input?" He wouldn’t be surprised if you did, to be honest, but he’d rather keep you out of this part of his world. He just shook his head, stepping closer to the slab.

Your last gift came in just as Valentine’s Day was about to come to an end, Spencer silently tracking into your apartment, 5 minutes away from midnight, cringing as he opened the bedroom door as quietly as possible. You’re asleep, your breathing soft and deep, the soft, soothing sound filling the room. He kneels by your side of the bed for a moment, just looking at you: all loose-limbed and relaxed, your face soft and sweet against the pillow. He can’t help the little smile that tugs the corner of his mouth up, and he wonders how he got so lucky. Softly, he reaches out, fingertips gentle as he brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

You flinched, startled awake, until you recognise Spencer's eyes blinking back at you. "Jesus Christ, you scared me," you breathed out. "You should have told me you were coming."

“I was trying to be quiet,” he murmured, keeping his voice low so only you would hear. His hand brushed the curve of your jaw, a soft, almost reverent motion. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You sink back into your pillows, shifting inside so he can sit on the edge. "I would have waited up for you if you'd called first," you murmured, voice thick with sleep.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hip right against your knee, his fingers still trailing along your face, then resting on your thigh over the covers. “I tried to get home earlier,” he said, and he sounded exhausted, the stress of the case weighing on him. “But the team was debating something. And then paperwork...”

"You don't have to explain," you said softly, shaking your head, making a mess of your hair.

He watches you, his gaze lingering on the mussed locks on your head, the sleepy bleariness to your eyes, the pinkness to your cheeks, and he feels a surge of longing so strong it borders on painful for a moment. He loves you like this — soft and sweet and rumpled with sleep, and he wants nothing more than to curl up next to you right here and now. “I hate being away from you for so long,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I missed you so much.”

"Should've caught your guy faster then," you said, shifting up to meet his lips with yours. "Happy Valentine's."

He returned your kiss, his fingers trailing up to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. “Happy Valentine’s,” he murmured against your lips, before he was kissing you again, harder this time, and you could tell he was tired by the urgency with which he held onto you.

"I realised something when you were away, you know," you murmured against his lips.

He pulled back slightly so he could look at you, his fingers still trailing along the back of your neck. “Yeah?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and studying your face with those sharp, intelligent eyes of his.

You nodded, looking at him with your own fond gaze. "I love you," you said softly. Plain and uncomplicated.

He had heard those words plenty of times in his life, but he’d never tire of hearing them from your lips. He felt his heart stutter in his chest, and he moved his hand to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Say it again?” he whispered.

"I love you," you repeated, your smile glowing in the dark, streetlights dancing over your ceiling.

He felt something in his chest settle at the words, at the reassurance that you really were here, and you were his. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your nose, the. corner of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw. “I love you,” he murmured against your skin. “God, I love you so much.”

Your arms winded around him, his face burying itself in your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin, his arms wrapped around your waist. His hands slipped up under your sleep shirt, his touch warm and soft against your back, and he practically sunk into you, needing the closeness, needing to be surrounded by you.

"I know the day didn't go to plan," you murmured, "but this is the best Valentine's Day I've ever had."

His arms wrapped around you a little tighter, like he couldn’t get enough of having you pressed against him, and he pulled his head back from your neck so he could look at you properly. “Me too,” he said, then reconsidered. “Well, the whole day was hell, but this… this is perfect.”

"Yeah?" you asked, pecking his lips.

He chased your mouth, kissing you again, lingering on your lips for longer. “Yeah,” he replied softly. “Being with you is all I need.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x blake!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine

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sugoi-and-spice · 1 year ago

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Vox Relationship Headcanons

Time to strike the iron while the hyperfixation is HOT!

(I mean come ON . Look at this fucking evil dork. I love him).

SFW

It goes without saying that Vox is HUGE on appearances. He does not make his relationships public lightly. His brand as one of the V’s after all is perfection, and he’s not going to go out arm and arm with a person unless they know that.

That being said, especially given his on again off again relationship with Valentino, I could absolutely see him as being the type to fall for a hot mess.

A very different person with his partner in front of and behind the scenes. When the cameras are off, he’s warm, affectionate, and vulnerable. He’ll share his every insecurity with you, strip himself bare to the bone for you to love and comfort truly and honestly. And he’s an excellent listener too, always available to hold and talk through any problem you have. Your problems are his problems — you’ll work through them together.

When in the public eye however, he can be a downright prick — putting everything, and I do mean everything between you two on the backburner to keep up appearances. He will not hesitate to make jokes at your expense if it means his ratings will go up.

Fights with him are explosive. No, he’s not the type to lay a hand on you, but we’d be lying if we didn’t admit that he can scream at you within an inch of your life.

Words of Affirmation and Gift Giving are his primary love languages. Specifically, he needs words of affirmation and he loves to give gifts. And holy shit does he give the most uncomfortably lavish gifts. Diamonds, rolexes, new cars — no price is too high for his darling.

Surprisingly, he prefers home dates. Watching a movie on the couch or having a little game night with a bottle of wine. He does genuinely enjoy the authentic time you spend together and he wishes he could have more of it, so the more he can get of that private, intimate time together, the better.

And while he is a man of the future, so theoretically should like video games, I do think he has a certain soft spot for a good old-fashioned board game.

When it comes to video games though, he does tend to gravitate to phone games.

Vox is from the 1950’s so I do think he prefers a more nuclear family and relationship dynamic. He wants to bring home the bacon and have his partner ready to fry it up in a pan with a dirty martini ready and waiting for him. That being said, he is a man that always looks to the future as well, so he’s by no means above doing chores of his own. At the end of the day, this desire for more traditional relationship roles really comes from a place of needing to be doted on rather than any views he actually has about gender.

The man’s a sucker for a good massage from his partner. This wired up workaholic has knots that you can’t even imagine, so please, offer him a nice bankrupt at the end of the day. He’ll be sure to return the favor tenfold.

A very lovey-dovey drunk. Oh my GOD, he’s so touchy-feely and weepy and just all the y’s. You want a guaranteed cuddle-wuddle session? Load him up with a couple glasses of scotch — you’ll have those chords coiling around you.

And yes, his alcohol of choice is scotch. Scotch, dirty martinis, or a nice oaky chardonnay.

This man wants to get married. Yes, even if he is in hell, the idea of not having to worry about who his next lay or source of connection will come from, having someone that will stand by his side through thick and thin, a partner? Now that’d be the (after)life.

NSFW

BIG fucking praise kink. This man NEEDS you to stroke more than just his bod and his cock, he needs you to stroke his ego too.

“God you’re so good”, “FUCK, you’re so big”, “Nobody can make me feel this way but you, Vox”.

Don’t worry, it’s not just for his own ego. He loves to give praise as much as he receives it. This man is a TALKER in the sack.

“Fuck, fuck yeah. Just like that, baby. You’re so fucking good, just like thaaaaat.”

He’s also got a little bit of a degradation kink — but in general, it still feeds into stroking his own ego. Loves to tease and taunt his partner once in a while about what a horny little slut they are, how he loves to see them so desperate and pathetic. Asking his partner, “you’d have anyone right now, wouldn’t you?” just for them to assure him that no, nobody but him will do.

On that note, the man can dish out degrading dirty talk, but he can NOT fucking take it.

Very much a switch. Sure, he loves to fuck, but he’ll just as happily let his partner bend him over his own desk and fuck the shit out of him. A good orgasm is a good orgasm, his ego may be big, but not big enough to get in the way of that.

Big fan of bondage, both on his partner and himself. There are few sights better to him than seeing his partner bound and shibari’d in his own cord and wires, holy shit. But he’ll also never say no when his partner breaks out their own pair of fuzzy handcuffs for him.

He absolutely short-circuits when he cums, so watch out. Sometimes, if he cums hard enough, he may just zap you a bit so watch out.

Favorite position is seated cowgirl. He loves the way he can hold his partner close while ramming as deep into them as possible. Not to mention the fact that either one of them can take over control at any moment. He can thrust up, they can grind down — it’s just the best of all worlds. Not to mention you can do it from his desk chair.

On that note, he’s a big BIG fan of cockwarming.

LOTS of precum. This HD motherfucker is just a weepy mess.

I can’t explain why, but Vox just seems like an ass man to me.

He’s not necessarily a cuddler after, but he is something of a “savor the moment” kind of guy. He likes to lay in bed (or chair lol) with his partner for a good while afterwards, smoking a cigarette, reveling in some post-nut clarity conversation, just really taking in the moment. His life is so busy at all other times honestly, always looing and speeding to the future. Sex and post-sex are the times where he really does just like to stop and live in the moment.

#vox #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x you #vox x oc #smut #spice writes

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dilfdater420 · 1 month ago

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cecil fluff alphabet 🤔

I didn't mention this the last time you requested, but by the universe are your images funny I love them.

As always, thank you for requesting!

#dilfdater420 : answering asks! Cecil Stedman fluff headcanons through the alphabet. maybe sweet enough to rot your teeth? this is formatted as if you're dating/married to him. gender neutral reader. "___" used in place of y/n. may be a little OOC, i'm sorry! not beta read we die like... you know who...

A - Affirmation

Cecil works day and night, 24/7 for the safety of the human race and Earth. At times, it can feel like you're getting in the way, taking time away from what is more important.

However, Cecil would rather die than let you feel this way. He'd let you know that you're just as, if not more important to him than his job. You're his only break in the day, something positive amidst the chaos. It's integral to him.

B - Bald

He's balding, all stress related too. After someone at work pointed it out, he confided in his now lowkey insecurity about it. You try to tell him that it's not a big deal, and he looks fine, but he can't help but think about it at least a little.

You telling him he still looks fine as a mug makes him feel better though.

I have a feeling Cecil would use it as a way to get compliments and affection from you without outright saying it. He's old, old guys love to avoid being completely transparent with their needs.

C - Chicken

I have a headcanon that he's from the south, specifically Kentucky, so he absolutely loves his chicken (and food in general) well seasoned. He can't have it any other way or he will throw a fit. And if that does happen, it's super funny to see him hangry. He'd have his signature frown, a bib he clipped to his dress shirt, a glare at the food, and his arms crossed.

D - Down (to Earth)

Cecil is a very practical man, taking things in as they come. He's always working pro-actively, never waiting for something else to come and lead him in the right direction.

This bleeds over to you. When you both were starting to date, the way he got a first date was not by flowers and nervousness, he was very blunt about it: "Hey, I'm going to say this outright because life is too precious to hesitate: I like you. I think you like me too. Can I take you to dinner?"

It definitely doesn't work for everyone.

E - Elated

When he gets happy, it's noticeable. His smile reaches up to his eyes, and he loosens up. In fact, him being delighted can make him tired since he's stopped tensing up. It's like the weight of the world is lifted off his shoulders, which is more literal than figurative.

In particular, say it's Valentine's Day. You're both at home in the living room, and you're giving each other your gifts. You'd already given him his gift, and you're currently opening the one he's given you. Before you can even tell him how much you love it, he's passed out on the couch.

F - Faithful

Is very committed to you and only you.

One of my personal headcanons is that Cecil loves love and values the close relationships he has with others more than the other party might understand (i.e. Cecil bringing Donald back from the dead).

So, say there's a scenario where you might feel a little insecure that you're away from him so often and that he might be cheating--he'd swiftly nip that misconception in the bud. It'd be a very serious conversation with hard boundaries on that being set.

He'd never forsake you, his whole heart, for momentary pleasure.

G - Gentle

Yes, he's practical and blunt, this was the case back in the letter D, but that doesn't mean he's not considerate with it. He'd treat you like a gentleman.

Him being upfront (most of the time, we'll get into that) means he cares, not that he has a lack of tact. Like if you two were shopping and you were modeling outfits you might want to buy, and he didn't like any of the ones you tried on, he'll tell you he doesn't like it. Not like "I don't like any of these, you should try on some other clothes." It'd be like, "Sorry ___, to be honest, I don't like any of the ones you've showed me so far. I feel like they don't really fit you, can we go look for some other ones?"

H - Hard-Headed

He's very stubborn. When he's stuck in his ways, he's very unmoving in that viewpoint.

Once something clicks, it clicks forever until there's some situation when he's forced to re-evaluate his ideas, which doesn't come often.

With you, he's a similar way. It can lead to some strong discussions on outdated opinions on the world that shouldn't be held anymore. Nothing serious like human rights or something, just little stupid stuff like the Monopoly Man definitely having a monocle or how he won't even try Wingstop because, "Kentucky Fried Chicken is the best".

Compromise is only made when his hand is forced.

I - Icy

Sometimes Cecil can be quite cold.

He thinks in a calculated nuance at work, and it's hard for him to relax that part of him sometimes when he's with you. He tries but the man is stressed out! Having the whole world under the care of you and your annoying heroes is a lot.

J - Jazz

He loves music, and I have a strong feeling that jazz (and country but that's not at the forefront) is a genre he's been accustomed to since childhood in the south.

Since he's a boomer, I could see him being born in the midst of the boom, which would be the 1950's. This era was characterized with a shift to rock and roll through the lens of things like rhythm and blues, i.e. jazz.

Since the (white) south was y'know, not cool with black music (which is rock and roll) they listened to the thing they just got accustomed to: jazz. And he loves that shit

I feel like he'd have a little dream of being like the big wigs and going to a jazz bar in NYC, surrounded by alcohol, love, and sweet tunes. He'd take you there as a treat one evening, and it would be grand.

K - Kiss

I headcanon that he was a bit of a player back in the day, not a lot though. Like he didn't have a revolving door of people every day, but maybe about 10 partners a year? (He could've also went undercover for operations that might've gotten a little freaky, but I digress. Would love to talk more about this full length if anyone's interested.)

So to that respect, he knows how to kiss, and how to do it well. His style of smooching changed as he got older, he got more tender, less cocky. But that same passion permeates through his kisses.

L - Lazy

He hates lazy, relaxing is hard for him. It was frowned upon to lounge around when he was a kid (southerner on a FARM? trifling...), and it's even more frowned upon now in his line of work. He's always doing something whenever he is home, whether it's tidying you both's room, washing the dishes, doing the laundry, etc.

Even with all the money he has he refuses to hire someone.

M - Money

Speaking of money, Cecil's dough is so large that he probably doesn't know what to do with it. Every time he teleports it's over 7 billion, and he couldn't care less! He teleports all the time!

In your relationship, you don't even have to work for a day in your life. He provides everything! And working is frowned upon anyway, because it could allow people to find your relationship out and use it against him.

For the readers that might want to do more than be a house spouse (/are like Debbie), you and Cecil would have to find a workaround that doesn't include a public establishment with easily broken records. Perhaps the government? But even they're flimsy. Regardless, despite his hatred of compromises, you both would find a way that worked.

Also, depending on if he even let you know what his real job was or not, he'd still be acting in the same way. He'd just go about you working in different ways.

N - Nocturnal

His sleep schedule is probably incredibly off from where it should be. He lives on melatonin and caffeine. This can make for some long nights where he wants to talk to you before the melatonin kicks in, and you're hanging to consciousness for dear life so you can listen.

O - Oblique

Whenever Cecil discusses his work, it's very vague.

Depending on if he tells you what he actually does or not, because I feel like he could do either or, he's the same.

He doesn't want his work life to bleed into his normal one. Something that brings him peace shouldn't be tainted with chaos. He loves you dearly, but his world wouldn't, so he saves you from it as much as he can.

P - Petnames

Since he's a southerner, "darlin'" is most definitely his favorite. You make his real self come out, the one not polished to be "professional" and lack his accent.

His runner up? Love. He loves love, so he should call you what he loves.

And finally, his third favorite has got to be hun and hunny--I just have a feeling.

Q - Quality-Time

His time with you is precious, considering he doesn't get much.

It's become one of his core values in life, so he cherishes whatever he can get with you at any time.

R - Romance

Yes, he loves you, but is he the smooth, romantic type? No.

In fact, he might fumble a little whenever he tries to do that. This could look like surprising you to a night of champagne and a trail of flowers leading to the living room more often than Valentine's, but that isn't his style.

But if you liked it, he'd at least make an effort. That's the type of "romantic" he is.

S - Snuggles

In the sterile world Cecil works in, and the touchy world he'd grown up in, he'd be a touch loving man. In fact, with the right amount of whiskey, he might see you laying down someplace and jump on top of you for a hug like the "oh boy it's smooching time!" Link and Zelda animated scene.

Here's the clip for reference: https://youtu.be/zPAo6mW3WYE?si=ZXziBHDO5Vd6IoIX

T - Timeless

When he loves someone, he loves like there is no tomorrow. With the reality of his world often being bleak, and with the amount of time he gets to see you, whenever he does see you, his love is very purposeful and full.

U - Unspoken

His communication skills only activate in things he deems truly serious. But when it comes to "little things" like his emotions or stress, it's something that goes unspoken.

It takes a lot for him to really open up.

To put it in perspective, he calls therapists "shrinks".

V - Vacation

He can't have a vacation; it'd just be a hibernation where he catches up on the years' worth of sleep he hasn't gotten. And that's if he's with you, since you make him elated.

W - Warmth

He grew up in the south, he loves warmth. But up working in the Pentagon can get cold, and he absolutely hates it.

This can look like Cecil snuggling up when Mark was doing his training in the artic.

So as soon as he gets home in the winter months, he's turning up the temperature and you can't do anything to change his mind. Your sauna is his normal.

X - XOXO

Sometimes he'll have to leave for work in the middle of the night, so he'll leave you a note in the kitchen for you to read.

Somewhere along the track of his life, he learned that you put XOXO under your letters without learning how that makes him sound.

Depending on the reader, you might not have the heart to tell him that doing that makes him sound like a little girl writing her first crush a note.

Y - Yearning

When he's not with you he thinks about you and wants to be with you. He wants to know what you're doing, shoot you a text, get a picture back maybe? He just wants you.

Z - Zephyr

Last but not least, he loves walks in the outdoors. Feeling a nice soft breeze to carry some of the sweat away with his love is his kryptonite. It always reminds him of what's important, of what he's protecting.

You, the answer is always you.

a / n : heyyy

I am always open to critiscm especially since it's my first time doing something like this. Not too confident but, I'm being honest with how I see his character and I think that some of that can resonate with my fellow Cecil enjoyers.

On that note, lemme know if you liked it. I also have a huge fear and pet peeve with OOC-ness, so please, help me out! lol

Anyways, thank you, and lemme know if you want me to elaborate on my ideas with any of the letters. My thoughts have been shortened down to little bite-sized pieces for this post.

#dilfdater420 #cecil stedman #cecil stedman x reader #cecil stedman x you #cecil stedman x y/n #cecil x reader #cecil x you #cecil x y/n #cecil stedman headcanons #im ceciling it #cecil stedman is hot #invincible #it's a hard combination to be objective in your observations of a character and their possibilities at the same time #hope i did it well #always open to critique

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haobubbles · 4 months ago

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Riize when you argue and they have to go on tour

genre: fluff, crack n kinda angst?

tw: no foolproof read!!, cursing

roxy yapps: i publicily apologise for taking so long to post smth😭 with my exam's week and now christmas (having family over ALL THE TIME) i haven't had time but well, here it is!! enjoy and if u can leave some ideas for req!!

── . ★ shotaro

after the attitude of fans at the airport and the fight he had had with you, this boy was quite a mess and was in very low spirit.

known as probably the most energetic boy on this earth, that day he would catch their fans by surprise when, even if his performance was astounding, he sounded more tired than usual and he clearly had his mind somewhere else. when he closed the door of his room in the hotel, after the concert, he made sure to send an apologise to briizes on weverse. without a second thought (after cheking the time of your country ofc) he called you.

"if you just need to, pretend we're fine until i come back home. i can't perform knowing i've fucked up and haven't made things right"

── . ★ eunseok

after having a fight with you, eunseok sent you a message about his departure for the tour, and as he didn't receive any message back, he second guessed that you needed your space, which he decided to give. he was sure you'd reach out when you felt better but the wait was slowly killing him.

on stage, he wouldn't seem as if he just had a fight with his significant other, although he kept on thinking about his electronic device, and if it had buzzed with a message of yours. he definetely acted flirty with the camera, sending flying kisses or winks in hopes you were watching it at home and you knew they were for you.

seeing your messages on his lockscreen made his face lit up instantly, which even if he knew he would be made fun of later, he couldn't care less.

eunseok: did you see me on stage? all those flying kisses and winks were for you

── . ★ sungchan

would definetely be pouty and with big ass moodswings.

on stage, he would be the sungchan everyone knew and loved, however, on backstage he would be (for the couple minutes they have) pouty, with his eyebrows furred and maybe even moody.

his teammates would probably need to take part in it by telling him how much you miss him. then he would call you with all his confidence built up and he would curse them out loud for setting him up.

"well, now that i've called you, let's just fix things okay? i miss you and i dont want to be abroad while having an on-going fight with you"

── . ★ wonbin

number 1 sulky boy. he would be confident about you two fixing your diferences but he hated the thought of getting on stage and being in a fight with his first and most important supporter.

either spam messages or he would go silent because he'd be too scared to say something or do things to worsen the situation. however; he wouldn't wait for you to make the first step.

would deadass indirectly tell you things during his speech "don't forget to tell your loved ones how much you appreciate them, no matter if you're arguing or phisically distant from each other.."

would leave everyone stunned and would low-key be very proud of himself when he would see your message "call me when you have some time x"

── . ★ seunghan

another boy with speeches however, he would take your arguing as a possibility to get you back, so he would put up a romantic act just for you to see (even if he was in front of thousands of people)

woulnd't be too worried because he was confident in deeply knowing you. he knew how you acted when you were mad and how he was supposed to act

"i've started listening to (your fav song) recently but i think it lacks some reasoning, could someone explain it to me?" "can i marry you? oh no, no, my heart can receive all the love from everyone but it can only give it to one person back"

── . ★ sohee

he would be lost. not only about what to do, but not talking to you and being currently not in good terms, it wrecked his routine and his "normality" so he wouldn't be sure on what to do.

i feel like he would need to talk it out with another member to ask for advice on how to make things right. he would be too shy to act bold by hismelf, so that's why he recurred to talk with euseok during the flight. even if the older member told him to just call you and have a proper conversation (which he of course would do) he dedided to add his own touch.

during the concert, he would say some words or constructions you usually used and poses and gestures you usually made. he just wanted to show you that even if he hadn't reached out, he kept you wiht him everywhere, everytime, no matter what.

"please call me or text me when you can. i miss you so fucking bad and i refuse to go on like this"

── . ★ anton

wheni tell you this boy would risk losing his flight because he didn't want to leave while you hadn't fixed things.

if he did really had to leave (or they just obligated him), he would be all the time sending you reassuring messages about how much he loves you, or maybe some memes to make you laugh.

on stage, he would be bubblier and happier than usual, but he would go viral for singing a snippet of 'the reason' of hoobastank. when the fans would ask him later on about why did he choose to sing it, he would dismiss the topic by saying that he just felt like it.

"i hope you liked it..i bet you'll even like it more when you know the boys have been making fun of me for 15 mins now"

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cursedcola · 2 years ago

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Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde(here!), Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): The relationship is kinda toxic because it's Idia and I have to be realistic - but it gets better as you read. Just know that there are themes of miscommunication, self-sabotage, self-neglect, and insecurity in both Idia and the MC. I gave him some character growth at least and some maturation to the character. Note: All Ignihyde has is Idia so I gave his piece some extra love(super long. Like, this isn't even considered a headcannon set anymore. I really went overboard, I'm so sorry). Not proofread for grammar since I'm a bit lazy right now. Also, I haven't finished his chapter in game because I'm too weak (seriously wtf is up with these fights). I know the plot mostly but forgive me if there's an inaccuracy in a reference

Idia had it made during his youth - and deep down he knows it despite all his complaining. He knows that he won the introvert lottery. For three years he was able to live in a reclusive dorm room with no expectations beyond showing up to class (via a tablet of all things) and doing his work. Sure, he had to return home at some point and deal with that hot mess...but it was a displaced problem. One to be dealt with whenever. As a full-time 'student' he had junk food readily available, his brother down the hall, all the games and tech he needed, and somehow managed to land himself a loving partner despite his quirks.

The Ramshackle prefect - someone he initially wanted nothing to do with. Chaos seemed to follow their every move and Idia wanted no part of it. He never expected to come within a twenty-foot radius of them without force.

For the record, force indeed was used. Unfortunately they had a nasty habit of being nosy. Very 'main character complex' of them, if you ask him.

Yet it worked in his favor. Their stubbornness and intrusive ways wormed a place in his stone-cold heart. It fueled his ego much to everyone's chagrin. Out of everyone - princes, busy bodies, future doctors and the literal fish mafia - you picked him. The noob cursed to lose all his 50/50s and rot in bluelight. Idia seriously questions your tastes, but hey! He beat the normies and that's all he cares about.

Well, at least that's how he phrases it. Underneath that god-tier ego is an inferiority complex that he tries to keep down for your benefit. Something about your mood dipping by 20% when he talks trash? He'd need Ortho to run another test on that. Just to be safe.

Unfortunately, he still can't reign it in all the way. Victories can be temporary and who's he to say that your relationship isn't a one-shot story? Nothing worthwhile is ever that simple. Good games always get sequels...so the question lingers, will he still be a main character in yours?

When Idia graduates, he fully expects for you to walk out of his life. He returns to S.T.Y.X and leaves NRC to fulfill his role back home. You have no reason to care about him when he's no longer nearby. Life isn't like an isekai manga. You won't wait for him - no, you'll get a taste for how life is without him and indulge. Slowly you'll stop texting him, calling him, playing games with him - well, he'll do it first! He refuses to be the second male lead that gets dumped when you finally find your prince. That's for chumps.

He'd rather you just up and leave this world! At least then he wouldn't be in this pitiful situation...but he's seen that crow's shitty work ethic. You're stuck.

Idia's scared to say the least. One could say that his self sabotage was in action before your relationship even began. Old habits die hard, and no one could stop his spiral. Not even Ortho. Idia left his little brother behind as well. The boy sent him off with a smile, promising to take good care of you in his big brother's stead. After all, you both were in the same year.

It's not surprising that he reverts to his old ways. A hard battle is even more difficult to win when you don't have the motivation to fight it in the first place. Idia loses his drive...and in turn his already negative outlook grows worse.

Needless to say, Idia ... neglects you.

Your relationship has always been more of an 80:20 than a 50:50 - with him taking more than he ever gave. You always set aside time and made sure he was comfortable. You respected his anxieties and dealt with his temper on more than one occasion. His jealousy. You indulged his hobbies, always tried to include him in on activities with your friends (even though he rarely ever accepted), wore your heart on your sleeve and always took the lead. You were always too good to be true.

Two years. Two years with him at S.T.Y.X and you at NRC. Not a day passed where you did not text him or call. Not a week passed where you did not video-chat or play a game with him. You made time. You checked in. Told him stories about your life an friends. Ortho often would send him recordings and clips as well. During vacations you'd make plans to see him and always invited him to come to campus for events. Even though he never accepted, you still always offered. Throughout it all he kept you at a distance, yet unable to fully let you go at the same time. He needed you to do it. He needed his inner thoughts to shut up and to have someone else to blame.

You. You. You. When would you stop? Why weren't you tired of him yet? On a good day he can be frustrating, so how were you not mad when he was physically trying to make you hate him? Were you waiting until graduation to drop the bomb on him that you'd leave for good? On another's arm or back to your world?

Imagine his surprise when neither happened. On the dawn after Ortho's graduation ceremony, Idia came out of his cave to greet him at the S.T.Y.X entrance. He would no longer be as lonely, and perhaps without Ortho around, you'd finally put distance between yourself and the Shroud family. All would be as it should.

He did not expect to see you at the gate as well. Ortho flew up to him with a bright grin and twirl in the air - babbling on and on about how he arranged for you to come work as a research assistant in the lab. After all, you had an extensive knowledge of blot as well as field experience. It was a win-win situation for the company and your relationship! You could now be a happy family! Isn't that just amazing?

"It was extremally difficult to keep this a surprise!...Brother?" Ortho halts mid-rant, his receptors going haywire, "Brother, your heartrate has increased and your temperature is dropping below stable levels. You must regulate your breathing pattern!"

White noise rang like television static in Idia's eardrum. He watched you thank one of the guards while handing off your suitcase. His pulse increased and mind went under water. How long had it been since you were together longterm? You looked different. More mature. Meanwhile he was still the same - physically and emotionally. Still the pasty shut-in with dark eyebags and energy drinks running through his veins instead of blood. He wasn't used to seeing you in person. How should he react? Should he hug you? Do you want him to? That's weird. He hasn't held you in a while - yeah, it would be creepy. Does he even deserve to? What made you want to work here anyways?! You could have gone anywhere. ANYWHERE. - Shit. You're looking this way. What should he do?! aHH! You're walking over!

He does what he knows best. Shuts down. You receive a disgraceful greeting. No affection. Not even a smile.

Idia's brow furrows at your approach and he buries his hands deep into the pockets of his lab-coat. When you lean in to kiss his cheek, he catches you by the forearms and holds you in place. "Since when were you going to work here? You do remember what S.T.Y.X is in charge of, right? Once you're in, there's no going back. Are you a masochist or something?" Ah. There goes the heartfelt reunion. Being home did bring out a more harsh and cut-throat side of him after all.

Despite his poor treatment, you don't react upset. Now the relationship has now become something of a 90 : 10. He knows you have no reason to come here other than for Ortho and himself. You really are an Otome protagonist, jeez. Willing to do all that for him? Giving up your future and friends just to be at his side...dammit. Don't give him hopes! Don't undo all the work he's put in to survive without you! Stop welcoming misfortune for his sake! You're stupid. Stupidstupidstupid .... man he loves that stupidity. Gods he missed it.

Shit. Not even an hour in and he's reverting.

You don't realize it but you're heading straight for a bad ending. He does though. He's read the guides and played more visual novels than he can count. As a pro, he needs to steer you off this villainy ending and towards the true route.

After all ... what was that one saying? Heroes will sacrifice you for the world, while Villans will sacrifice the world for you? He heard it from some normie bookworm...but it seems fitting right now.

Idia's no hero. He'll destroy his world if it means you get to be happy. Not that he had much of one to begin with. You...gave him a life beyond fiction while all he's offered is a curse. Literally and figuratively. Its time he returned what he so greedily stole. He'll make you move on through force.

The months are slow and difficult. Despite being nearby, Idia only ever seeks you out for work-related reasons. Even then he is very cold and dismissive . He also does not turn you away when you take the initiative. Just like old times, you linger around his room and prod him for attention. He wants you to leave, but also doesn't want to be cruel. So, he maintains this impassive position and lets you do whatever you please. Yet the situation is scarily similar to how you both were at NRC. Except instead of using his past as an excuse, he now uses your work dynamic to enable his noncommittal ways.

There really is only so much one person can take. After Idia left NRC, you pinned his switch in behavior on the lifestyle change and distance separating you both. You knew Idia would be someone you had to work hard for when you started to date, and so the situation was one you viewed as an obstacle to overcome. The solution was simple - you would go to S.T.Y.X and prove to him that you were willing to make it work. Without the physical distance, you hoped that he would let you in again. That you wouldn't have to hear reassurances from his brother anymore, and instead hear his feelings from his own mouth instead. Then you both could work out the details together in time. Seeing him reject you at first was discouraging, but you did not let it rest there. Perhaps he needed time and to get used to your presence in his home. After all, these were new waters. You would be patient. You would prove yourself capable.

Life becomes a time capsule. As the days went by, a bitter feeling grew in your stomach. Why wouldn't he laugh? Why wouldn't he look in your eyes anymore? Why is he retreating even further? What were you doing wrong? How could you fix it? Is it you? Your performance in the lab is outstanding according to your supervisors, and your work friends seem to find you agreeable enough. Can't he see that you've adjusted well and are happy here? There's nothing to worry about. How else can you prove yourself?

These thoughts plague your mind to an extend that Ortho felt the need to preform psychiatric evaluation. You dismissed his concerns with a long list of things about your new home that make you happy - including him. It pacifies his panic and somehow mitigates your own as well.

Until one fateful day, when you decided to take your lunch early and overheard a conversation between two senior S.T.Y.X employees

"Isn't the boss' partner kind of pitiful?" One technician spoke in a hush whisper, taking a bite from her salad, "He doesn't give them the time of day. I can't believe they've stuck around this long. Screw the job, I would have been out after the first week," "Shhh! Quit gossiping, it's bad. Especially about the one who pays our bills," The other scolds. "I know....but isn't it just sad. They're clearly being taken advantage of. I can't help but feel sorry" "It's not just you...to tell the truth, I had no clue Director Idia had a partner up until recently. If anything, I thought he disliked Assistant MC and kept them around for Director Ortho's sake. Imagine my shock..." They both snicker at the notion. "Yeah. I give them a few more months...maybe a year. Despite being smart in the lab, they clearly can't read the room:

It was the last straw. Like ice water being dunked over your head after a hot shower. The lunch pale in your grasp suddenly felt like it weighed ten times heavier, and a cold sweat dripped down your back. They were right. He didn't want you here. It was time to move on or else you'll just be living out an endless loop. Nothing has changed since your youth aside from the location. No matter how long you wait, no matter how much effort and time you offer ... the relationship is doomed to fail. You gave him everything...and it was time to stop waiting. To stop expecting and hoping. Time to accept reality.

Your lunch goes discarded in a nearby bin and your shift abandoned. You would not work another second for S.T.Y.X despite the facility not being the source of your anguish. Your shoes clack loudly against the tile flooring as you speed-walk to Idia's office, where he was lazily reviewing data on a recent experiment. His phone set off to the side with some automated gatcha daily playing.

You use your 'special' pass (curtesy of ortho) to get in. The metal door swings out as you march inside and turn off his screen without asking.

"H-h'-hey! What are you-" He shrieks and turns in his chair. "We need to talk" "Can't it wait until later? I'm busy working, if you can't tell" "No" Your tone is demanding. Definite. You all but yank the badge from around your neck and drop it in his lap. In that motion, he knew. Your eyes scrunch tight and teeth grind together. He was prepared for this. For you to lash out and yell at him for your suffering. Make him the bad guy in your story and finally beat the game for good. Not for you to deflate. Not for the glassy, disappointed stain on your eyes. Or the shallow breaths as you calm yourself - not letting your emotions frighten him like a spooked cat. "I'm quitting," "S.T.Y.X? You know you can't just quit. There's a process," He refutes, lazily pushing his chair back with an anxious fidget. "Not just S.T.Y.X...I'm quitting us. I can't do this anymore," "Oh. Alright. Let me get the paperwork," "Alright?" You whisper, gaping at him "...just alright? That's all you have to say to me? Not even 'why' ?" He pauses typing on a holographic keyboard, cocking an eyebrow at the question. "What? You want me to beg you to stay or something like that? We're not in an anime," His words die out at the end, and had it not been for your disbelief you would have caught the note of sadness in them, "you want to go? Then go. I warned you about this place" "No...you warned me about the facility. It's not the facility I have a problem with. I actually like it here" "So it's me then, huh? I warned you about that too," He grumbles and continues to type, "I'm not whatever it is that you saw in me. It's your fault for sticking it out this long. I knew this was how it would end from the start" A silence follows aside from the occasional noise from his computer. That's it. The nail in the coffin. You finally realized the truth. He was no good for you. He couldn't be 'fixed'. With an approving chime, he finally has all the departure paperwork pulled up for you to sign. "Alright. Sign these and I'll get you an escort," He holds out a tablet in pen without looking from his computer. You don't take it. "Hello? I said - " he turns to face you, irritated "....here" Silent tears stream down your cheeks and pool at the tip of your chin, dripping to the tile below. Wide eyes lock in his general direction. Your hands tremble slightly at your sides, as if your mind was thousands of miles away. His heart breaks. "You never even gave us a chance, did you?" He says nothing. "It wasn't about 'making it work' for you. It was always a matter of 'how long'. You've been waiting for me to leave you, all this time?" It wasn't a question. "All this time, I've been trying to prove myself. I've been thinking that I did something wrong...that I needed to be better" the word stings your tongue and seems to strike him, " but I was never even close to enough" we were never enough

With languid movements, you take the pen from him and sign the papers. You would not hide your sadness. Your grief. Your pain for a relationship that was never actually one. For a battle that only had one party fighting.

He lets you go, the metal door swinging shut and rattling him to his core. Idia's hands shake as he tries to return to his work. They tremble over the holographic keyboard, making his blue nails look like moving neon streaks in the air.

He had always thought you ere just being kind. That your self-sacrificing nature was natural, and that someone else was more deserving of it. He failed to consider the possibility that all the things you did...you did for him alone. You did out of the same anxieties and fears he felt.

In a way, you both were at fault. He led himself down a self-fulfilling prophecy - letting his anxieties and what-ifs become reality. And you? You thought everything could be fixed with time. With sacrifice. That eventually he would grow. You both were plants, one overwatered and the other left parched in the sun.

He did get one thing right. This was defiantly a bad end. Just not in the way he originally believed...

Somehow, life becomes worse than before you arrived at S.T.Y.X. At least when you were around, people did see him more out of his office or room. Seeing him revert to his previous ways without so much as an inkling of sadness for losing you....yeah, it did not look good. Worse than people not even knowing you were his partner at first. After your departure, rumors began to spread that you had finally snapped. The pity felt for you morphed into judgement towards his character. Others saw him as a heartless recluse, and the pity was extended to Ortho of all things. If Idia could toss out a loyal partner of years, what about the little robot? Perhaps despite all the gossip, the others at S.T.Y.X did not fully believe that he would let you leave so easily. That he wasn't as detached as the Shroud name dictates.

Little do they know that he's become a shadow of his former self. He can't even act self-depreciative. Pleasantries don't hit like they used to. Having you at a distance...well, was still considered as being with you. Now that you're never coming back, it's harder. Everything reminds him of you. Your favorite snacks are still stocked in the cafeteria, and there are blankets in his room that still have your scent. Occasionally a file will pop up with your work in it while he's doing reviews...and then there's Ortho. When you left, he was crushed. He pestered Idia for days - the security cameras giving him full knowledge of what happened. Yet no matter what the robot said about the situation, Idia didn't want to hear it. Eventually he took away Ortho's access data to his personal spaces.

That didn't stop the bot from talking through the door and spamming his brother's inboxes. Despite cutting off contact with his big brother, you still spoke to Ortho regularly. He refused to let his big brother lose all connection to you, and updated him on your well-being. Regardless of what Idia said, hearing about you made a difference. At first it increases his anxiety and drops his mood...but every time, like a scheduled delay, his serotonin levels will spike. Be it from a clip of your voice, a picture, or even just the mention of your name.

"Brother! I just finished a call with MC. Today they decided to adopt a cat! Would you like to see a picture?" His computer beeps with an incoming missive. Idia clicks it, and the screen displays a photo of you with a small white kitten in your arms. "They've decided to name it Grimm Jr. From what I heard, the predecessor was not pleased to be 'replaced,' as he calls it" Ortho laughs from the other side of the door, but Idia is too focused on the image on his screen. The curve in your smile and the way you gently cradle the kitten. You seem...happy. Much better than how he is doing. He fails to hear the door beep, granting access, neither the bot fly up next to him to look at the picture. "Big brother, why don't you apologize to MC? They would listen," Idia startles, clutching his chest as his hair flairs cherry red for a brief moment. He swivels in his chair and closes the image quickly. "I'm not apologizing for nothing. It's not like I miss them or anything. My life's great without having a normie relationship to manage" "Your body language suggests that you are lying" Ortho states, his eyes squinting cheekily. Idia hunches over, glaring at his keyboard and fiddling with his sleeves, "It's not like they'd want to see me anyways. I blew it. Only an idiot would forgive what I did," "That's not true! MC loves you!" Idia glares at him from the corner of his eye, "Yeah? They look pretty happy without me. They were miserable here" "Because you purposefully made them miserable! You are very smart brother, but even I understand emotions better than you and I am an artificial lifeform!" "Then what should I do, Ortho? Go beg them to take me back like some cringe sitcom?!" "Yes!" Idia blanches at the thought, but doesn't entirely dismiss it. Ortho glares holes into his head, causing Idia to shrink into his chair. "You are always afraid, brother. You lost them to your fears once...do you want to regret that? Are you really satisfied with pictures and stories? Why deny yourself wonderful things! We are not trapped anymore!"

Ortho leaves him with one piece of information - an apartment address. He sends it to all of Idia's emails and even somehow makes it the background of his tablet. He can't change it or take it off.

He stares at it long and hard. Searches the place up and even uses virtual reality to scope out the building. While perhaps a bit creepy...he hacks the security cameras and watches feed of you coming and going over the past moths. Some days you look perfectly well, and others you look worse for wear. If he went...would you even want to see him? Would you let him in? Kick him out? Is he willing to even try? What if you already moved on...no, Ortho wouldn't set him up for that if he knew you were happy with someone else.

Idia leaves S.T.Y.X for the first time in months. His request for leave shocks other employees. Yet he's gone the moment it's approved, afraid that he'll lose his edge if he thinks too long on it.

He finds himself at the door of a middle-class apartment in the Kingdom of Roses. Second floor, third door to the left, just like he memorized. He knows its yours from the ribbons tied on the doorknob, themed after one of your favorite animes. One he introduced to you...

In his hands is a small box of candies - a peace offering, just in case you want to kill him on sight.

His boney knuckles wrap around the doorknocker and thwack it three times. Sweat pools in his palms and he jolts away. The seconds like hours as his painted nails dig crescents into his palms. The door opens. "Hi, how can I -" You pause mid-sentence, your mouth going dry. Grimm Jr. snuggled in one of your arms while the other holds the door open, "I-idia?" "T-that's my name," He grimaces, looking anywhere but at you. "What are you doing here?" His tongue feels heavy and the tips of his hair fade to a pale orange. He studders and fumbles with the box of candies, holding them out to you with a grimace. "I wanted to see you...urk. I hope that's not weird! Can ... I come in?" You eye the box in thought, before reaching out to take it and opening the door further. It was a start.

You hear him out - through the stuttering and the self-depreciative comments that he hastily retracts. This isn't just about him. It's about you and everything else in-between. Shockingly enough, you agree to give him a second chance. It wasn't entirely his fault after all ... and you did still love him. Although now there are ground rules. You would not be returning to S.T.Y.X. You've finally created a stable home for yourself and have a life in this new city. You have a career, friends, and a life that doesn't include him. You need the individuality. You would no longer try to morph yourself for him or be placid. If he wanted to spend time with you, he would have to leave S.T.Y.X and come stay at your apartment. You would no longer be the one always reaching out, he would have to start showing initiative and making time for you. You would see how things progress from that point. He was not a child, and you would not beg for basic needs to be met anymore. Words would not be enough, you need actions. It was time for 50 : 50.

Weirdly enough, he agrees to all your rules without a single complaint. Not a normie comment or slang filled statement leaves his lips. He's still that nerdy dork you fell in love with at heart, but these 'normie' things? Well, Idia's accepted that he wants those things. As much as it is difficult for him to admit, they only grossed him out so much before because he always believed they were unattainable

He's true to his word. He calls you every day, first thing when he wakes up (in the late afternoon. He still is a hermit at heart). At first it made him anxious, and he'd hover over the contact for fifteen minutes before dialing. Yet it soon became easy, with his heart only beating fast from happiness. He takes the weekends off and comes to spend them at your apartments. Sometimes he brings Ortho and it becomes a sleepover with games - and at some point you start inviting your other heartslabyul friends from back in the day too. Eventually you do come around the compound again. It's awkward to say the least, considering how you left. Yet at the same time, it's a breath of fresh air. The others are shocked to see him out of his office, and he eats IN THE CAFETERIA. Woah. He calls you by your name and not 'assistant' when in public. Homie scares some people. That's what he does. He gives you a special watch for your anniversary. It's paired with on he has and solar powered, so you can contact him at any time. As a natural born worry-wart, he can't help but worry for your safety. Since watching the appartment CCTV is 'creepy,' he just asks that you wear the watch if you're going out anywhere. It won't die and with the click of a button he'll be alerted. In exchange, you can use it to contact him whenever you want. He'll always get back instantly since it might be an emergency. The watch is also directly linked to Ortho's system, so you can contact him as well. Who needs Cortana when you have Ortho?

For the first time, Idia feels secure in a relationship. He can't count Ortho since the boy is technically his creation. Ortho would always be there...and now? Idia's confident you will too.

Does that mean you should get married? Isn't that the next step in all this?

Well....shit (pleasant connotation)

He never would have tinkered with this idea before considering his 'family'. Who the hell in their right mind would marry a Shroud? A fool. Are you a fool? Maybe.

It's late evening on a Sunday night when you're both walking home together after hitting up a local diner for hearty eats. Wow. Look at him. On a date. So weird...pshh.

Idia walks at your side, forcing his pace to match yours. Not everyone is graced with his long stickman legs. His hands are buried deep in his hoodie and his posture is slightly slouched. Classic scary dog privilege for a nighttime walk - well, if his hair didn't scream valentine's day pink to the world. Although no one else has flaming hair other than the Shroud family, so he doubts anyone would interrupt.

You decide to take the long path home and through a nearby park. The night was still young for nightowls such as yourselves, and fresh air was always crisp at this hour.

Along that path you decide to stop at a cement bench by some vending machines and chill out for a bit. Despite having just ate, Idia gets you each a can of coffee.

He'd be leaving to go back to S.T.Y.X tomorrow. Like he does every Sunday. His gaze drifts to the watch on your wrist and thinks about adding some new features - maybe video chat? So he can see you throughout the day. He wonders what you'll be up to while he's stuck in the lab. Maybe you'll go shopping, or play a new game. Maybe you'll try out a new recipe or take Grimm Jr. out to play. He wishes he could see you during the week.

Ah. You're talking. He should probably tune in or you'll get mad at him. Why's it so hard to focus? He hasn't felt this uneasy in a while...

Why is he having these kinds of thoughts? It's weird.

"You okay? You seem a little spaced," You pull him from his thoughts, a concerned crease wrinkling your temple. "Eh. It's nothing. Just not looking forward to the week," he chuckles weakly. "I know that feeling. It's always a bummer when you dip. Not to sound clingy or anything" His golden hues spark for a moment, a pale pink dusting his cheeks as he whips his head to look at you.

"W-wait - really? I was just thinking the same thing...." "You were?" "Yeah. It's...kind of weird without you. Everything's emptier. Wow. That was pretty cringe. Sorry." He grimaces, internally screaming and knowing that this was going to replay when he tried to sleep later. You tilt your head at him, a slight frown on the cusp of your lip. Something tickles at his fingers and he looks down to see you lace your hand with his. "I miss you too," your words are soft. Genuine. He feels his neck grow hot, the pink glow radiating off him betraying him. Idia looks between your interlaced fingers and the drink in his hand. There...wouldn't ever be a 'right' time for this. Would there? You've waited long enough. He pulls his hand away and pops the soda tab off with deft hands.

"Hey..." he twiddles with the soda tab in his hands, "on a scale of 1-10, how are my odds of getting a yes?" "A 'yes' to what?" "To this, " he sighs through his nose, holding the tab out towards you with a shaking hand, "will you marry me?"

{A soda tab from canned coffee. Not the most charming offering, and it barely fits around your pinky finger. Yet, Idia's always been impulsive at his core. Had he not acted in the moment, he likely would have ran countless possibilities over and over in his mind. While not your forever ring, the tab will remain a sentimental piece}

{Idia is not a man with a keen eye fore jewelry - but he knows quality. Combine his eye for perfection with his craftsmanship and behold - a ring made from purified blot. The center gem is a piece of magestone in it's most refined state. The band is titanium and there are small sapphires along the molding. Since he would be wearing a matching band, Idia decided to keep the design simple. He prefers functionality over all. Yet he does want you to feel proud of his handiwork, so he includes vintage molding on your band only. He wears a smooth black band on his ring finger, and never removes it}

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #twst idia #IM DEAD #THIS TOOK FOUR HOURS #I LEGIT WAS NOT PLANNING TO WRITE ALL THIS #MY HANDS

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