#the thing is that the siblings and his father KNOW WHAT HE IS SAYING IS BULLSHIT.... that is so bad.... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arabellasleopardcoat · 1 day ago

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The Brave (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: A collection of first times with Daemon.

Warnings: Bastard! Reader. Daddy issues. Corruption kink. Innocence kink. Age difference, power imbalance. Poorly translated HV. Angst. Enemies to lovers (Sort of?) Happy ending. Usual warnings for Daemon (Sexual thoughts, mature language, violence)

Requested: Yes! My first after Halloween, life has been crazy.

THE FISHERMEN SAIL too early for your liking. You know it has little to do with their personal preference, and more to do with the tides. It doesn’t mean you are happy about it, though.

Your job is to ensure all your ships are in good condition and ready to transport whatever those men bring home. Your mother had made a small fortune by expanding her father’s fleet, and after her passing, it was your turn to handle it. You preferred to oversee things personally, knowing that only an owner’s touch could ensure the quality of service you prided yourself in.

No one loved these ships more than you. Small and old they were, but they tied you to your mother. You lacked her knowledge, and sometimes, they made you far less money than you hoped for, but you insisted on keeping them. Your siblings had not shown such an interest, choosing other pursuits.

Allyn, much more practical, had preferred to learn the trade of a shipwright. He now worked under Lord Corlys. It embarrassed you to say it, but it was him and not you who was the breadwinner of your family. Some months, if not most, it was far more lucrative than your business with the ships.

Addam worked occasionally as a shipwright too, but he didn’t have a steady source of income. He was far too young to be hired anywhere, lacking the experience most lords wanted from those building their ships. Sometimes, he also helped you.

Today wasn’t one of those days. Otherwise, you would have forced him to come here in your stead. With a grumble, you jumped from the ship to the dock. Everything was as it should, so you had to move to the next one.

The sunrise makes Hull look even more beautiful, the city slowly beginning to rise under Driftmark’s watchful eyes. The white marble and ivory of the castle provide a backdrop for the goldens and pinks that color the scene. It would make you smile, were it not for the fact that the peaceful morning is ruined by every damn bell in the city tolling.

Visitors. Noble ones. By the amount of noise, they are announcing the visit of someone very high ranking.

The splash of cold water against your ankle makes you grumble more. You hated getting your shoes wet. Or your ankles. You fix your hair scarf, worried that the sea breeze will make it come loose.

You shouldn’t have bothered. A harsh gust of wind takes it fully off and nearly sends you caroling into the water. The dock shakes underneath you, the ships and water agitated by the same thing. You scream, as do the rest of the sailors who are near.

As you look up, you see him. A man, with silver hair and a smug look on his face, riding atop a dragon. He is showing off, ducking low, the dragon’s tail dipping in the water before springing back up again. It is what is causing the breeze. You marvel for a second, wondering how such a gigantic beast can be so nimble.

You had never seen a dragon up close before. You are not allowed to go near Driftmark, where the Princess and the Lord and Lady keep theirs.

The few captains and sailors that were on the docks alongside you have fled. But not you. Alone, silver hair in full display, you stand frozen in the same spot you had been before seeing him pass.

The man smiles. He winks at you.

You lower your eyes and do not stop running until you are safe at home.

DAEMON SEES YOU again when he least expects it. He has looked for you in every pleasure house on this island and has not been able to find you. The brave little maiden with silver hair, who had screamed bloody murder but stood her ground on the docks when she saw him approach.

You must be of Valyrian descent. There is no other explanation for your lack of fear. You were young and comely, so he had guessed that you must be a whore. It was what happened to girls who looked like you. Men loved pretending they were either a Princess or the daughter of some lord. And so close to Driftmark? They probably asked you to pretend you were little Laena Velaryon.

Daemon would have so enjoyed to play such a game himself. His future bride was far too young to do little more than court under her parents’ watchful eyes. If he could sneak a bit of a taste in advance, you wouldn’t catch him complaining about it.

When he had agreed to accompany Corlys to oversee the progress being made on the news ships for his fleet, the last thing he expected to encounter was you.

Your laughter was the first thing that caught his attention, a sound so girlish it seemed improper among the men carrying saws and woods for the ships. His head had turned instinctively towards the sound, and it was then that he saw you.

The dress you had on was a plain gray, as it was the headscarf you wore. But Daemon would know that face anywhere. He had sought everywhere for it. You were holding a small basket, next to some shipwright. The man looked older than you, already bald. You were all smiles and animated gestures, seemingly taken by him.

The man tickled your side, and you laughed again. You handed him the basket and kissed him on the cheek.

Daemon seethed. He hated sharing. With whores, it was to be expected, yet it didn’t make it anymore palatable. It was why he enjoyed taking maidenheads so much. Yet, he could ignore it if the woman was pretty or well-trained enough, like he did with Mysaria. To watch a whore with her lover, though, it was intolerable.

Whores were professional liars. You paid them to pretend to be someone they were not. But watching you with a man you truly loved would forever break the fantasy. There was no way he could believe the sweetest lies on your tongue, not when he knew what you looked like when truly in love.

Is it in bad taste to approach you when his future father-in-law is distracted by his sailors? Probably. But he cannot stop himself. Because the only thing Daemon can think of, the only thing that would make him feel better, is to bring you as low as he. Ruin your little fantasy as you had ruined his.

He marches towards where the man and you are, and gently cups your chin in his hand. The sudden interruption startles you, and you try taking a step back, but his sweet hold has turned into Valyrian Steel. There is no escape for little whores.

“I looked for you in the brothel, but you were not there.”

“I… Excuse me?” Your voice is shrill, more angered than panicked. “Do I know you?”

And oh, the nerve on you. The nerve to question him, as if he were just a passing man on the street and not a Prince of House Targaryen. The same nerve that drove you to stand your ground against Caraxes.

Begrudgingly, Daemon has to name the strange feeling taking place in his stomach. Awe. Admiration. You had fire in your belly, and steel on your spine. You were a truer Valyrian than many of his own family members.

They were weak. Soft. You were not. But you were still a mere peasant, and he couldn’t allow you to disrespect him such.

“You should be more careful on how you address your betters.”

You shove him, hard. And Daemon feels his rage bubbling up, and raises a hand to do something he will most likely regret… But before he can strike you, the man you had been smiling at steps in.

“Unhand her.” He says, voice firm. His expression doesn’t waver, the same steel you have mirrored in his brown eyes. Up close, he is much younger than Daemon expected, tall and muscular from what seems like a life of hard work. He tugs you behind him.

“And who are you? The husband? The brothel owner?” Daemon sneers, getting in his face. Your hand comes up in between them, fragile and unadorned. Yet, you hit with strength, palm flat against his chest. Daemon laughs and grabs it between his. You attempt to pull back, but his grip is much firmer. “Ah, cupping a feeling, sweetheart?”

“Daemon.” And really, things were just turning interesting. Why does Corlys have to interrupt at the worst time possible? “Unhand her immediately.”

At his appearance, both you and the boy turn an awful gray shade that matches your dress and headscarf. Fear of their liege, perhaps?

But the boy’s jaw ticks, and your dark eyes lower in a manner that they hadn’t when facing him. Something else is at play here.

“I was just…” Daemon slowly retracts his hand, studying the surrounding faces carefully. You, sullen, the boy enraged. Corlys’ cold as ice. Neither of you speak, yet it is clear you are not strangers.

“I do not care. Unhand her. We do things different in Driftmark.”

And the tone Corlys uses is strange, for a man unbothered by the costs of power. What are two peasants to the favor of a Prince? Why does he know them? He had never struck Daemon as someone concerned by his subjects.

And then, a piece of your hair falls out of your headscarf. Silver against a dark background. And it is then he knows it. You are no dragonseed. Nor is the boy with the shaved head.

“YOU DO THINGS different here, for certain.” Prince Daemon says, appearing at your window while you knead bread. His presence is as unexpected as it is unwelcome. It is the first time you are home alone after the incident, not Addam nor Allyn willing to risk this stranger attempting anything worse than he already has. Three days had passed, and they had considered it enough. If the man had not approached you during that time, it meant he wouldn’t, right? Clearly no. He had just been bidding his time, waiting for both of your brothers to go. “Corlys's little secret.”

Your hands shake. You wished Allyn wasn’t so set on teaching Addam his craft, and hadn’t gone out today. Being home alone with a strange man around didn’t spell anything good for you.

A quick glance at the door reassures you that it is still barred. You take a not so subtle step back from the window.

The prince lip’s quirk upwards, not quite a smile, but betraying his amusement. Does he find your fear funny?

“I won’t hurt you, my lady. I didn’t mean to scare you, either.” His voice is gentle, as if dealing with a spooked animal. The title makes you scoff. No one has ever called you a lady, much less a Prince.

As a child, you used to watch Laena Velaryon and pretend you were her. Wondering what life would have been like if you didn’t have to hide, if your father acknowledged you. Wondering what it would feel, to be a Lady and never go to bed hungry, to be surrounded by beauty all day.

You are no lady. You are a bastard girl, and you have gone to bed nearly starving more times than you could count.

As if sensing your thoughts, Prince Daemon lifts one of his hands. He holds up a package, wrapped in bright white silk. Both he and his gift look deeply out of place here, near your window. In his fine clothes, in brighter colors than you can afford, he sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Any child of mine, even if natural-born, would never have to go hungry. Your father should be doing more for you, not hiding you three like a shameful secret.”

You do not take the parcel. You merely look at him and fight an overwhelming urge to cry.

“Here.” Prince Daemon pushes the parcel through the window. “Consider this my apology for my behavior. Rather uncouth, huh?”

You open it carefully. Two smaller parcels fall from it, both as carefully wrapped.

“You can wear the silk.” He tells you, gesturing to your hair. “And the rest…”

Curious, you peer into one of the parcels. It’s full of cured meat.it would have cost him a pretty penny, having it already preserved for you. It is a luxury Addam, Allyn and you never get to have. Not since your mother passed.

With rushed hands, you open the other parcel. A small sack of flour, lemons, and pages torn from a book. They are all expensive things, nothing like the flour you buy at the market to make bread or the bruised fruit you get when Addam craves something sweet. You squint at the pages, puzzled by their presence.

“Mix one cup of flour with… Is this..?” You ask him, astonished. A small smile begins to form on your face.

“The recipe for lemon cakes. For your baking.” He smiles back. He then gestures to your hands, still covered in flour. “I hear you enjoy it. Just… Save me a piece.”

“Thank you.” You beam at him. He gives you a bow, and leaves. You find yourself smiling like a fool the rest of the afternoon.

You cannot believe it. Prince Daemon has just given you the recipe for lemon cakes. As far apologies go, this is a great one.

Addam and Allyn go to bed with full stomachs. You go to bed with yours full of butterflies. No one has ever ensured such for the three of you.

“IS IT CLOSE enough?” You bite your lower lip, watching Daemon chew a piece of cake. His brows furrow a bit, and he lets out a small, throaty moan.

“Close enough. A tad more lemony than the one at Driftmark, but I like it.” He smiles. You fight the urge to beam. He has been coming almost daily after bringing you the lemons, but it is the first time you allow him to taste your creation.

He says it is because he enjoys the walk. You are not entirely sold, but thinking it is to see you seems a bit conceited.

“I got excited.” You scratch the back of your neck, sheepish. The batter had smelt and tasted so heavenly, you had just kept adding more.

Daemon laughs. He uses his now free hand to tug you towards his side. You love when he does that. The gesture feels very protective. He never lets you walk too far from him, or on the side next to the ocean, so you never stumble or get soaked by an errant wave.

It’s peaceful here. He often says he cares not for the ocean, but the two of you always walk the same route. From your home, towards your ships, then back.

“Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere else?” You ask him, watching the waves lap at the shore. Then, feeling stupid for asking, you lower your eyes. As much as you feign blindness, you are not blind. He is probably ashamed to be seen with the likes of you. Even your father is. Why wouldn’t a Prince?

Your eyes feel warm, and your vision blurs. Gods, you hate crying. You try to focus on something else. Your scuffed shoes. His boots. The sand under your feet. The urge to run away, and scream, and die from the humiliation of even asking.

Daemon sighs. He sits down on the sand, patting the space on his side. His clothes, despite their simple design, are very fine.

“Your clothes…” You mumble, without sitting.

“Bah, I have three other cloaks like this one.” As if proving a point, he takes it off, laying it down for you to sit. You feel even sillier at his patience. “Come. Sit down, jorrāeliarzys.”

You obey him because there is little else to do. You have already messed up, you don’t wish to make any other mistake. His company has become precious to you, a welcome respite from your brothers. Living with two boys, you are never alone. But every so often, you wish for more engaging conversation.

“I am not ashamed of being seen in your company. I just… I thought you preferred it here.” Daemon explains, softly tucking a stray curl behind your ear. “Would you like for us to meet in the city, instead?”

You think of meeting him in the city’s market. Of the rumors that would sure follow, of the names you would be called. Of your father finding out. You know what it would look like to him. That you are making the same mistake as your mother did.

You are not dumb. Daemon is not here to simply plan an alliance. Alliances are always sealed in blood, and your half sister is barely old enough to be considered.

Your mother and you are different. She didn’t know your father was using her. You know Daemon is using you. And you intend to use him right back, milk him for all of his worth.

So why does it hurt like this, why does it feel like something inside you is breaking?

You take the parcels he gives you without any shame. That night, as the three of you are eating a generous serving of venison, Allyn scowls.

“I don’t like it. Can’t you see what he wants?”

Addam’s fork freezes midway to his mouth. He looks down at his plate, as if he is truly seeing the meat he is being served for the first time.

“I am not mother.” You say, icily. The venison tastes bitter on your tongue, but stubbornly, you keep eating. Allyn is just angry that it is not longer him who is putting the meals on the table. “I know what highborn men are like.”

What your father is like, too. How they use women as if they were little more than things, how they produce children and leave them to their fates.

“All the more reason not to allow him to take your maidenhead.”

“Do you listen to yourself?” You scoff, getting up. “Maidenheads, as if I were some great lady. I can handle it. Handle him.”

Allyn looks at you, eyes full of pity. You cannot bear it. Your eyes sting again. You hurry out of the table.

“Where are you going?” Addam reaches forward, as if to grab you.

“To my room. The two of you have ruined my appetite.” But it wasn’t the two of them, not really. Daemon is ashamed of you, the voice in your head whispers. Ashamed of you, just like your father was. He only wants to use you, and once he has had his fill, he will discard you. Just like your father did to your mother.

Alone, in your room, you tear the headscarf he had given you to shreds. You squeeze the rests on your palm, you make a ball, you throw it against the wall.

The next morning, you have sobbed your throat raw. You still go to meet him in the afternoon.

SOMETHING IS WRONG. Daemon can tell when he picks you up that day. Your eyes are swollen and bloodshot, and your complexion an awful gray. The headscarf he had given you is nowhere to be seen, and you are back to your severe gray one.

Like a bad case of heartburn, the lie he had told you comes back to him, leaving an acrid taste in his mouth.

Daemon is not ashamed of you, but doesn't want to be seen with you either. The consequences for you would be too great. He had learned his lesson with Mysaria. The double stain would have made you a pariah, both because of your birth and because of whom you were bedding.

Because it was all that people would think about when they found out. No one would believe Daemon had yet to touch you.

He was unsure if he ever would.

You were an extraordinary girl, yet still a bastard. There was nothing to be done about it. All you could be was friends and lovers, and nothing more.

Yet, your dark eyes were so kind, your face full of such happiness, Daemon dared not to sully you. Something in you screamed at his instincts to protect, something tugged at his heartstrings when he saw your face scrunched up towards the sun, and told him to gather you in his arms and never let anything touch you.

Daemon had been like you, once. When younger. He, too, felt a lack of acknowledgement by those around you, and an urge to prove himself. His father had passed when he was still young, and Viserys had received all laurels. It would have never bothered him because he loved his brother, but Viserys had left him behind. Married Aemma. Had children. Gained the love of his people, found new friends.

Never once Viserys had looked at Daemon. No matter how hard he tried to reach for him, his brother always evaded his hand. Daemon had been left there. He, too, had stood on the shadows and feigned indifference, burning up with secret resentment.

The idea of you growing up to be like him was both appealing and horrifying. There was a sweetness to you, a naïveté that he had lacked even in his younger years. He wanted to preserve it. Shield you from the world.

Bedding you would ruin you. Daemon enjoyed playing the role of mentor, teaching you new things, helping you gain experiences you would never get as a bastard girl. Yet, you had such a tempting figure, with a mouth made for sin, and a body that begged for worship. You were a little girl, but you had all the self-possession and looks of a grown woman.

You would taste exquisite on his tongue, crumbling from his caresses. Your cunt would feel like wet velvet around him, and you would sound your sweetest when he was spearing you open on his cock.

And how would you smile, joyous and fierce, his brave girl. Some maidens cried, but not you. You were made of sterner stuff, a heart that burned brighter and stronger than the Fourteen Flames. You had stood your ground, terrified but unbowed, in front of Caraxes himself.

Such a face you had, all Valyrian empress. A sovereign nose, the fleeting shadow of your eyelashes, and a slippery laugh that always gave you an air of mischief. A face not made for sadness. It is what prompts him to do what will become either the greatest mistake of his life, or his greatest triumph.

“I was thinking…” Daemon says, watching your expression closely. “We could go to a tavern tonight.”

“A tavern?” The surprising offering shakes you out of your sadness. Your face changes from a sad little frown into a curious one.

“Have you ever gone to one?” Daemon tugs the hair scarf from your hair, softly. The silver curls fall free, in a lovely mess. You scowl, trying to get it back, but he holds it just out of your reach. It’s a lovely thing, to watch you give little jumps on your tiptoes, curls bouncing with the motion. “Ah! None of that, now. Answer my question first.”

“No, I haven’t. Addam and Allyn go from time to time, but it sounds too rowdy for my liking.” You cross your arms over your chest.

“It’s rowdy, but in a good sense.” Daemon cannot help it. Your curls are a bit mussed, from wearing the ugly headscarf for too long. He fixes them, fluffing them up slightly at the roots in the way he has seen handmaidens do for Laena. He then tosses the damn thing into the sea, for good measure, ignoring your outraged cry. “Drinks, music, people, greasy food. You will love it.”

“I hate drinking.” You wrinkle your nose, cutely. He fights the urge to bite you. The face you make is too sweet, too tempting.

“Because you have only drunk swill. I’ll teach you to drink real wine.” He tugs you into his side, and begins walking back into the city.

The walk to the city is awkward. Not because the two of you have nothing to talk about, but rather, because of the stares. Your silver hair, despite your simple clothing, commands attention. So does Daemon’s presence, and the arm he has around your shoulders.

He had not been wrong. This would cost you. A cost too steep for someone he sought to keep safe.

Still, you face it all bravely, as you had that morning at the docks. The two of you manage to get a cozy table in one tavern that Daemon had visited before. He calls for wine to be served, an expensive barrel from the Arbor he is sure they had kept around for years before anyone had the coin to buy it.

It’s delicious. But when he serves you a goblet, you take a big sip and begin to splutter.

“Mittys hunes iksā.” Daemon tuts. His silly bunny. “You are not meant to drink it such. You ought to savor it.”

“Savor?” You arch an eyebrow. “Tastes like dragonfire.”

And perhaps it's the choice of words, or the glint of your silver hair under the low light emanating from the torches, but something about you reminds him of the way he had loved Rhaenyra and admired Laena, the other Valyrian beauties in his life. They are not here, he cannot reach them. But you are.

“Come here, hunes.” His own voice sounds strange to him, low and demanding. When he calls you bunny, he is not exaggerating. Does the fox feel as wrong as he feels when becoming over his prey? Does his gums ache like Daemon’s do, with the urge to bite, to tear apart, to wound? Does he mourn the little bunny whose innocence he is about to shatter? “There is something I wish to show you.”

You eye him warily, but get up from your chair and move until you are standing in front of him. It's not enough for Daemon. It never is. He always wants you closer, closer to hold, to protect, to own.

He tugs you between his parted legs.

“Do you trust me?”

There is a slight furrow of your brow. The barest hint of hesitation. Yet, your voice is firm when you answer him.

“Yes.”

His girl. His precious girl. If you had been his, he would have never hurt you like Corlys had. Never allowed to become easy prey for men like him. You shouldn’t trust him.

Daemon shouldn’t be doing this, either. It is a good thing he has never claimed to be a good man.

He takes a sip of his wine, and leans towards you, capturing your mouth in his. At first, you fight him, the suddenness startling you. It’s only when he gives your lower lip a sharp nip, that you melt into the kiss. When your mouth parts slightly, he passes you the wine.

You splutter, but Daemon holds you down, arms held by your side. He forces you to take and take some more, chasing the tart taste of the wine into the honeyed one of your mouth.

Your obedience and compliance only makes him wilder, drives him to grasp at your hips, pull you closer. Just when you begin to lean into Daemon, dutifully swallowing the wine, someone jerks you out of his grip.

“I did not think it to be true.” A woman’s voice, one he knows too well, says. Rhaenys. Her face is a mask of absolute rage. She gives you a shove that sends you stumbling before Daemon can even get out of his chair. “You have much nerve.”

Your face turns ashen. You look like you are about to cry, or worse, flee. Daemon jumps up, and gets between Rhaenys and you.

“You were always a whore!” She screams, her index finger digging into his chest. You let out a sob, quietly. Daemon’s heart feels like it is being wrenched from his chest. At this point, the screams have attracted all the tavern's attention. Daemon doesn’t doubt that by this time tomorrow, the whole island will know.

You will be shunned. Just as he had feared.

“I am talking to you!” Rhaenys insists. You cower behind him. It only makes Rhaenys angrier. “No, not you, you stupid girl. You, Daemon.”

Daemon feels utterly stunned. Never in a million years he would have thought Rhaenys was referring to him.

“Are you calling me a whore?”

He feels the slap before he even sees her move. His head gets forcefully turned to the side, and he hears you whimper. His cheek stings. Daemon has to blink back tears, Rhaenys has hit him that hard.

He wasn’t even aware that a woman could land such a blow.

“You dare! You toyed with my daughter and this girl as you saw fit.” And Daemon cannot even get a word in because she is too angry. He feels his cheeks reddening, and its unsure if he is feeling embarrassment at being scolded like a child, or rage at her words. “But worry not. I will make this right.”

Rhaenys has a manic gleam in her eyes. For a frightening second, Daemon thinks he sees in her the famous Targaryen madness.

Instead of setting you both on fire, she lunges, avoiding Daemon, and grabbing you hands in hers.

“I shall not allow you to make the same mistake your mother did.” Rhaenys says, and she is gone before Daemon can answer anything.

THIS IS YOUR greatest triumph. Why, then, does it taste like ashes on your tongue?

You are wearing the finest dress you have ever owned, gifted to you by Daemon. Princess Rhaenys has forced both him and your father into complacency, and even forced King Viserys to allow your betrothal. Still, you feel adrift. Even betrayed.

What Daemon had done to you had seemed purposeful. You had not realized when he had stolen the kiss from you, giving you your first taste of fine wine, but you understood it now. Had Princess Rhaenys not been there, or had she been any less merciful, a much different fate would have awaited you.

The stink of shame that followed you around, the whispers of dishonor and the looks of distaste, would have been even more intense. You would have been ruined, known as little more than a whore. And your family no longer had the money that had shielded your mother during her pregnancies.

You had not known it. But Daemon must have. He had a reputation for taking maidenheads as he saw fit, Addam had informed you. You were a fool for not knowing, and a fool for believing he wanted something else from you.

The royal decree is read by a Maester, in front of all the Lords of near castles, the smallfolk of Driftmark and the Velaryons. Even in the first beautiful dress you own, you feel small. Out of place. The looks your half siblings are shooting you do not help you feel better.

Once the bill is read, Lord Corlys steps forward.

“Daughter.” He says, grasping your hands in his. He is cold. He is cold, and it makes your skin crawl, even when it is all you wanted as a little girl. It’s the first time he acknowledges you, and he is not at all like the man you imagined, when dreaming as a child of what it would be like for him to look at you. Because even a glance would have been enough back then. “It’s a pleasure to finally have you join the family.”

Addam and Allyn are still in the crowd, unacknowledged. They are your family, not this man who is grasping your hands with a calculating gleam in his eyes. Wondering, as all highborn do, how he might use you. How you might serve to further his own ends.

Your brothers could not be recognized as you were. You had shyly asked Princess Rhaenys, and if she thought you dimwitted before, she had probably confirmed her suspicions. They were men, she had explained, and a threat to Laenor’s rights once your father passed. You, instead, were nothing but a girl who had sullied herself, whose honor had been compromised so thoroughly you had turned even less important in the great scheme of things.

She was helping you because you had been taken advantage of by Daemon, Princess Rhaenys had said, but also to spare her daughter from your fate. Wife to a husband that would most likely betray you and sire bastards.

Lord Corlys was just happy to have another pawn to marry off and forge alliances. Freeing his daughter from a disloyal husband was an added bonus.

Every time you heard them, your hands turned into fist, and you could barely fight the rage from clouding your expression. You had not done the thing everyone was accusing you of, and yet were being judged for it all the same. Daemon, too, did nothing to correct them. Not even when the most scandalous rumors surfaced, saying you would wed him with a child already in your belly.

You had not let him touch you like that. You were not as stupid as everyone thought. As a daughter to a single mother, you knew all about scorn and loneliness. You would never doom a child to your same fate.

The day doesn’t pick up from there. The feast to follow feels just as empty, and you turn down an insincere offer from your father to be housed here. You cannot wait to run back to your brothers.

It would be impolite to leave so soon, though. Lord Corlys has thrown this feast in your honor and is making the lords and members of his household present you with gifts. You admit it is a clever strategy, to avoid having to spend money in your trousseau. Hence, you need to stay a little bit longer.

You get handed new quills and parchments, alongside a new seal for your correspondence by Laena.

“I figured you wouldn’t have one of these.” Her smile is strained as she reaches for your hands. “Since you weren’t raised the proper way.” It says a lot about the company you are in that it is the most polite greeting you receive all afternoon.

When it all begins to become a bit much, and your eyes are stinging after a lady said you had no grace and no manners, you decide you need to run. But when you are stepping a foot outside the hall, Daemon appears by your side.

“Rather improper, isn’t it?” He asks, grabbing your hand in his. You try to jerk away, but he merely interlaces your fingers together. “A lady cannot quite run around unescorted as you used to.”

“Leave me alone, Daemon.” You say, still trying to free yourself. The last thing you want today is to deal with him.

“I do not think I will.” Daemon cups your cheek in his hand, hands gentle despite the calluses on them. It was one of the things you had first liked about him. His hands were artisan’s hands, like the ones of your brothers, despite being highborn. He had seemed so different from the rest of the men you knew, back then. “Not when my betrothed is nearly weeping in her own feast.”

“You heard all those people. I do not belong here.” You look up at him, fighting your tears. You feel like such a whiny child. What happened to you is something that only happens in fairytales, it's the stuff songs are written about. No bastard girl gets acknowledged by her father and marries a Prince.

“Who cares what those cunts think?” Daemon scoffs. “You are above them. You always were.”

You bloom under his praise. There is no other word for it. It warms you, from head to toe, and your stomach fills with butterflies. A small smile forms, even through the tears that threaten to fall.

“There she is.” Daemon brushes his thumb over your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

His girl. There is nothing you would like more.

“I never wanted to be a Lady.” You lower your eyes, embarrassed at the admission. You feel ungrateful for saying it, but it’s the truth. You had never imagined a home away from your siblings. The marriage will mean you will be taken away from them, and only see them if Daemon feels like it.

You do not own a dragon, after all. And you aren’t too sure Allyn and him will be the best good brothers.

He grabs you by the waist and gives a little tug.

“Be mine instead.” Daemon whispers, and when you nod, he kisses your forehead.

MARRYING YOU HAD never been in his plans. Yet, when he saw you walk down the aisle, dressed in Velaryon blue and looking awkward, Daemon was sure you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

You were not a lady or a princess, yet you and him were alike. Birds of the same feather. For the first time, Daemon could say there was someone who understood him.

Daemon had never been poor, nor had he been born a bastard, but he too, had lost his parents while young. He, too, was considered too wild by his brother. And he knew all about of trying to fulfill an impossible task while honoring the legacy of his ancestors.

Laena was a mere child by your side. Her innocence and Valyrian looks had appealed to him once, but after meeting you, Daemon knew no other woman could compare. There was an edge to you, beneath all the innocence and beauty. A fire that burned bright in your belly, and could not be quenched. An anger that both amazed him and scared him, and drew him in like a moth to a flame.

You would have been great if you had been born into his house. Great but terrible.

Or perhaps you wouldn’t have. Perhaps, if you had grown acknowledged by your father, you would have not been the lost little girl who dreamed of recognition and slept lulled by the sea. You wouldn’t have grown into the woman who got the recognition and understood she did not need it at all.

A shame that recognition had come at a price so steep. Recognition in exchange for rumors of dishonor, whispers of the shame of your existence and the shame you had brought on yourself. These cunts did not see you for what you were. Not some malicious creature, some silver tongued temptress. No. You were determined and fierce, brave and true. You honored your house’s words. Your ancestors would have been proud.

Yes, Daemon decided. He would marry you and take you away from here, from this horrible little island where people behaved like they were above you. The cunts should be honored that you were even looking their way.

The distance might even help those stubborn brothers of yours to forget all about the way Daemon had become part of their family. When the grudge was forgotten, he would bring you back, less the eldest skewered him alive.

Not because Daemon feared Allyn. Of course not. But because killing him would be such a nuisance, and you would cry, and… Ugh. He couldn’t stand to see you cry.

You were about to burst into tears right now. He could tell. Daemon grabbed your hands in his, uncaring he was breaking protocol, and pressed his forehead against yours.

“We can still marry on the beach, with only Caraxes as witness.” He whispers, gently. “Hells, I would prefer it. We can run still. The Septon has not spoken.”

You laugh, a bit watery.

“Addam and Allyn would drop dead, thinking we will not be wed.”

“Allyn looks like he would attempt murder.”

“Attempt?”

“I doubt he would succeed.”

“I would protect you.” You say, and it warms something inside Daemon he wasn’t even aware that he had. “If only because killing a Prince is a crime worthy of the ax, and I wish to have nephews.”

Daemon's mouth opens and closes.

“You little..!”

You laugh, but before he can lunge and throw you over his shoulder, the Septon clears his throat.

“If the two of you are done..?”

“Just get to the part where you handfast us.” Daemon says, giving him his best lecherous expression. “I have many things I wish to show my new bride.”

And there were. He had taken many of your firsts already, he wasn’t about to stop now.

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justmymindandstuff · 2 days ago

Text

Desire - Robb Stark X WifeReader

summary: Your life is perfect. You are happily married to your husband Robb Stark and gave birth to your first son a few moons ago. But since then things have changed between you. You miss your husbands touches but after you told him about your worries he shows you how wrong you are.

words: 6.132

warnings: self-doubt, discomfort, smut (oral f receving, fingering, p in v sex), pregnancy Kink (kind of/ mention), Porn with Plot ,fluff, 18 +,MDNI

as always english is not my first language, no beta reader so all mistakes are mine //No use of Y/N // Hope you have fun with this // AO3

requests are open // main-masterlist // GoT-masterlist

You sigh and look back in the mirror in front of you, you turn to the side a few times to look at yourself from as many angles as possible. Then another sigh. Your son babbles in his cradle next to you. You give him a smile. He would soon see his fourth moon. You can't imagine what life was like before him, or maybe you don't want to. The last years have been marked with war, loss, mourning, fear and suffering. First the Lions, then the Others. But you've been through all this, you and your husband, Robb Stark, King of the North. You wipe your black hair out off your face.

The minute it was clear that you are a girl, your father, King Robert, engaged you to the heir of his best friend. You knew all your life that you were going to be Robb's wife, and at age seven, you were sent to Winterfell to live here as Neds ward. You were supposed to become Lady Stark of Winterfell, but then your father died, the truth about your (half)siblings came out, and for Robb and you all this brought the crown of the North. You were dragged into this terrible game of thrones, had to forge alliances, foresee the intrigues of your enemies, and were faced with so many impossible choices. Who do you trust? Who can help you? Who will betray you? You remember with an unpleasant feeling the cold night in the harbour, the wind blowing outside the windows and in a few hours you would sail off to Dragonstone. "Do you want the throne my love?" Robb had whisperd into the night. You lay naked and tightly wrapped around eachother in the uncomfortable bed, his seed was still sticking to your thighs, and when he asked, everything in you was drawn together. You are the only living, legitimate child of your father, his throne, the Iron Throne, is actually yours. "No. Give it to the Dragon Queen, for her help and the independence of the North." The Dragon Queen accepted your offer, and when all the armies of the North and the Riverlands, the Unsullied, the Droharki and three Dragons stood before King's landing, it was over. The city had already opened the gates and ringed the bells. Tywin Lannister could do nothing but lose his head. Then you have turned your armies to the north, just in time to defeat the Night king.

A knock at the door trear you away from your thoughts of the past. "Come in." the door opens and Catelyn enters.

"Hello, Dear," she says in a warm voice, smiling at you. "How are you?"

"Good," you answer, and it's not even a lie. You have a perfect husband, a healthy son and a great family. What more could you wish for? Your mother-in-law is smiling at you.

"Robb is back soon the banners are already on the horizon," she tells you.

You can feel your heart beating faster when you think of your husband. After all these years, mentioning his name is enough, and you feel like a love-sick teenager again. Robb had been in Karhold to attend Lady Karstark's wedding. The journey would have been too long for your son, and you didn't want to be separated from him for so long. So Robb left with a heavy heart without you.

"Finally," you say, and then you take Catelyn's hand. "Thank you again for helping me so much over the last few weeks. I know I have neglected my duties as a queen."

"You're now a mother Dear." her gaze goes to the crib and a sparkling enters her eyes as she looks at her first grandson. "Of course, there are shifts in priorities. That's normal."

You nod, even if you're feeling bad anyway. During Robb's absence, it would have been your job to take care of the North and Winterfell, but your thoughts are always with your little son.

"If you want I can take little Ed for a few hours?" your mother in law asks. "You and Robb were separated for a long time."

Your ears are getting red because you know exactly what she means. "That's not necessary." you say and smile. It's not like you don't trust Catelyn with Eddard but it's really not necessary.

Catelyn smiles. "I was once young and in love too." she says. You try to smile, but instead you sight. Catelyn shrinks her eyebrows. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"I can see in your face that something is wrong."

Your gaze goes back to the mirror. Your marriage to Robb is perfect, he's like one of the heroes from the songs, one the best men in the Westeros, trusting, loving, honest. Everything you can wish for in a husband. God, you love this man with all your heart and you know he loves you too. Nevertheless, your heart is getting heavy. During your pregnancy you have gain weight and have not lost the soft pads on your hips, even though you had a wet nurse, your breasts are not quite as tight as before, besides that you have stretch marks over your abdomen and breasts. You look backt at Catelyn suddenly tears come into your eyes. She overcomes the distance between you in a few steps and pulls you into her arms.

"What's going on?"

It's uncomfortable for you to share these thoughts with her. But why? It was Catelyn who told you all about moon bleeding, marriage, the marriage night and birth. Your mother came to your wedding, but you were so alienated by then that you asked Lady Stark for advice. She was always like a mother to you. You get out of her hug to look at her.

"I think..." you start and swallow hard bevor you speak again. "He doesn't want me anymore," you answer. "Not since Edds birth, even in the time before. He doesn't desire me anymore."

You don't want to think about these thoughts at all, and most importantly, you do not want to keep thinking. If Robb doesn't share the bed with you anymore, who does he do it with? Only the thought that he is lying with someone else causes nausea to rise in you. But he'd never do that, you know, he would never shame you like that, never hurt you that much. Even if you're so sure, there's a voice from the corner of your mind screaming: every man has needs and you obviously can't satisfy his anymore. Everyone would let him in her bed, he always has women around him who want to seduce him. Younger than you, more beautiful than you. Virgins, whores, everybody. He's the king.

"Nonsense!" you're surprised at the sharpness of Catelyn voice, but she keeps talking. "Have you seen how he looks at you, sweetheart? That's not the way men look at women they don´t desire. He's crazy for you. He loves you."

"I didn't say he doesn't love me. I know he does. He just doesn't want me anymore, that's something else."

"Why do you think that?"

"Well, we have." you interrupt yourself, but then you throw all the shame overboard, it doesn´t help. Catelyn held your hand during the birth of your son, shame is absolutely unnecessary in this place. "We haven't shared the bed with each other since Eddard's birth. He didn't make me feel like he wanted that."

You think of the time after your wedding, sometimes you didn't even get to your cambers, he was too eager to take you. Even during the war, it was hard for him to stay away from you for more than two days. Only the memory of the gazes that he has cast on you over the battle plans in the war council, makes your cheeks glow. But since the last third of your pregnancy, he's begun to retreat from you. Not emotionally, but physically. No more hot kisses in dark corridors, no more hands wandering over your body, no longer whispers of dirty thoughts as he passes by in the corridors.

Now Catelyn sigh too. "I can only give you one advice I've learned in 16 years of marriage," she says, and you look at her curiously. "Speak with him."

You grimace, that's exactly what you didn't want. You don't want him to think he's a bad husband or that you miss something. But if you're honest, you miss it, your miss your husbands touches.

Catelyn looks at you determinedly and smiles. "I'll take Edd tonight, I want to spend more time with my grandson anyway and you talk to your husband." her voice does not allow contradiction, and even if you would want to contradict, a horn rings loudly through the hallway and over the courtyards of the castle. Robb's finally home. When you think of seeing him again, your heart beats faster, you missed him so much. You take Eddard carefully out of his bed. Fortunately, he won't wake up. You're just taking him with you because you know that Robb had a hard time being separated from his son for so long and that he really wants to see him.

In the evening, you sit on your bed and open your braids , so that your hair falls open over your shoulders. You've already dismissed your maids for the evening. The crip is now empty and you already have the need to run through Winterfell to your son. You always thought you couldn't love anyone as much as Robb, but then you held your son in your arms for the first time and your heart almost broke from love. You don't love Robb less now, it's just more love. The room door opens and Robb enters the room. When you see him, a smile comes to your face.

"My Lady Wife." he says joyfully and closes the door behind him. He comes over to you, puts a kiss on your lips and sits on the bed next to you. Then he looks at the crip "Where is Eddard?" he asks.

"With your mother, she wanted to take care of him tonight. So we may have a little rest." you answer him. He looks back at you, his gaze becomes troubled.

"Was it too exhausting to have Edd alone? Shouldn't I have left? Do you need more maids?" he asks and takes your hand in his.

"No. No, with Eddard, everything was perfect, he's perfect. The perfect little prince." you calm him down quickly. "Your mother helped me a lot with government affairs." Robb breathes out relieved.

"Good." then he stands up again and starts getting undressed. As he pulls his shirt over his head, you observe the play of his back muscles and you feel a flattening inyour abdomen. You're watching Robb change his clothes, you can't turn your eyes away from him. Then he comes back to bed, he smiles at you from above and caress you cheek, you lean into his palm and close your eyes. Then he squates down in front of you to be on an eye level with you. Your legs lie to the left and right side of his body while your bare toes slightly brush over the soft carpet on the floor.

"I missed you." you say and kiss his palm.

"I also missed you. I wanted to turn around the first day and come back to you."

You laugh quietly and start playing wit the curls in his neck. He closes his eyes and groan quietly. The familiarity you two have grown over the years fills your heart with warmth. You grew up together, were best friends for years, and you never feared marrying him. You slightly pull at the curls in his neck to get him to put his head in the neck. He opens his eyes again and looks right into your eyes, you bow down and put your lips on his. You lean into the kiss, bury your hands in his hair, but before you can intensify the kiss further, Robb pulls away.

You can't help but sigh. You could just turn around now and crawl under the soft blankets and fur, but then your worries would still be the same tomorrow. Catelyn is right, the only solution is to talk to him. You're searching for the right words, but you don't really know what to say. Robb's eyes hang on your face, he's pulling his eyebrows together.

"What's going on?" he asks.

You still don't know what to say, you can't find the right words. So you just decide to speak out. "Why don't you desire me anymore?"

Robb looks shocked at you. "What do you mean?"

You take a deep breath. "Since I was pregnant, since we had Edd, you don´t desire me anymore."

"No, that's not true," he said, shaking his head. Is he just saying that to not hurt your feelings? You know it's true, you feel it, you noticed the change in his behavior.

"Is it because I'm not as thin as I was before? Or the scars on my stomach? Because I'm a mother now? I can understand that you withdrew from our marriage bed during pregnancy, but Eddard is now four moons old, the maester said weeks ago that I´m healed, Nevertheless, you don't even touch me anymore! I can be happy if you kiss me." the words just sprinkle out of your mouth.

Robb's just looking at you for a few moments. "What are you talking about?" he asks in a quiet voice. "You think I don´t want you? You think I would not longing after you every second oft the day?"

There's something flashing in his eyes and he's moving so fast that you can't even react. Suddenly you lie with your back on the bed, Robb over you. You can feel his body on yours, but you know that he holds most of his weight on his knee between your legs. On his face appears the trace of a smile.

"My queen," he whispers in your ear and then places a kiss right below your earlobes. You shiver slightly and bite your lips so you not let out desperate moan. Gods, you missed his touches. Your hands lie around his body, caress the muscles of his shoulders. "I let you down, made you feel like you weren't desirable. I'm sorry, wife, forgive me." his words are followed by a series of kisses, over your neck, your cheek and finally your lips. When his tongue slips into your mouth, you can't help but cry out. Your body bends toward him and you can feel the pleasant poaching between your legs.

He separates himself from you, rests on his elbows and looks into your eyes. You bend up to feel his lips on yours again, the familiar feeling of his lips allowing heat to flow through your whole body. But again Robb doesn´t let you intensify the kiss an pulls away.

"Wifey," he says in a dark voice with a hint of his northern accent. "I'm sorry, I didn't want you to feel like I woun´t desire you." his lips goes back to your neck, first he places light kisses and then he begins to suck. A whimper comes over your lips. Robb's hands wander over your body, you wish your thin nightgrown wasn't between you. He lets go of your neck again, and you know you're gonna have his mark tomorrow. But you doesn´t care. Your hands wander over his shoulders forward to his chest and you draw on the fabric of his shirt. You want to feel his skin under your hands, but Robb grabs your hands and pushes them with one hand on your wrists over your head into the mattress.

"I forgive you." you say, you can hardly forme a clear thought, it's all about Robb and your desire for him. "Please, Robb." you don't know exactly what you're asking him for, you just want the burning desire in your body to be fed. A deep groaning comes out of his throat, but he won't let go of your hands. You push your hips against his, you feel his body and his hard member on you. Robb and you both moan at the little friction. He caress with one hand over your body, circles around your chest and lets his thumb run over your nipples. You try to suppress a moan, you don't want to look as desperate as you are. Gods, you missed your husband's touches.

"Did you want to know the truth? Why I have withdrawn from you?" he says, bowing down slightly to kiss you, your tongues are playing with each other. Robb finally releases your wrists, you immediately bury your hands in his curls, while Robb puts his hand on your cheek. The gentle stroking of his hand doesn't quite match the hot intensity with which he claims your mouth as hi. You keep pressing on to him. You want to feel every inch of his body against yours. You know you're incredibly wet, almost embarrassed how little it took.

Robb's hands wander over your body, he gently pushes your nightgown up above your hips, finally his warm hand touches your thigh.

"I could hardly be near you without going completely mad." he starts kissing your neck again, going slowly over your collarbone. You slightly pull his hair to get him to kiss your lips again, but he only bites swiftly, then kiss the place again. His hand goes higher and higher under your nightgown until it finally reaches exactly where you want it to be. In the next moment, he pushes a finger into you and moves it slowly. You inhale sharply, bend your hips towards him.

"I had to keep thinking about the fact that you were carrying my child in you. Gods, you thought I don´t want you anymore because you were pregnant? On the contrary, I wanted you every second. I would rather have you locked up in this room. Every second I could only think of pushing you against the next wall and taking you right there."

His lips find yours again, you spread your legs further for him, make room for him and bow toward him. Your hands wander over his neck, his shoulders, to his muscular upper arms. You need something to hold on to. Robb squeezes his thumb into slight circles over your clitoris and your legs start to tremble.

"Fuck. I could no longer have a clear thought, could not concentrate, could hardly be a king, because my thoughts were constantly circling around you. I had to stay away so that I could function at all, so I would not fall over you." he adds another finger. A wet sound fills the room as you are still trying to understand his words. He starts kissing your collarbone again. His lips wander deeper and he starts kissing your breasts over your nightgrown. The movement of his fingers becomes faster, he curves them slightly and increases the pressure on your clit a little. Then he'll start sucking on your nipple.

"Robb," you cry out. The feeling of his lips, his fingers, of him is strange, but simultaneously so familiar. Your whole body is trembling. His teeth brush against the fabric of your nightgown as he intensifies the movement of his fingers and the stimulation of your clit. Your fingers scratch over his skin as you come around his finger with a moan.

Robb waits until you have calmed down again and then gently removes his fingers from you, in the light of the flames you can recognize the glitter of moisture on his fingertips. Robb takes them into his mouth and the sight alone almost makes you moan again. Your breathing is still a little fast, Robb gently kisses your cheeks and smiles at you.

"You taste as sweet as I remember, even better," he whispers in your ear before his lips find yours again.

You bit him slightly in the lower lip, causing him to shudder. You want him. You have to have him. You want to feel him. You push your hips forward, make them slide against the center of his body. You feel his hardness. Robb groans in your mouth, then place his hand at your hips and he pushes you back onto the soft mattress.

"Not so impatient, my queen." he says, and a slight smile appears on his face. He's driving you crazy. His lips wander over your neck, your breasts. Your nightgown is in his way. "Are you hanging on this night grown?" he asks you quietly with a rough voice.

"No." you say confused about his question, and at the next moment he tears your nightgown of your body.

"Robb, I liked it despite that." when the cold air hits your body, your nipples arise, and the next moment his lips surround your nipple, while his hand embraces your other breast, he rubs his thumb over your nippel. Your protest immediately disappears from your lips and is replaced by a moan. You throw your head back into the soft pillows. Your body burns from craving and you give yourself to it. "Robb, please. I want you." you beg him, you want to finally feel him inside you again.

"Let me take care of you first. " he says, his eyes sparkling in the light of the candle, his gaze is full of desire but he holds back. On face appears a smiling, more wolf than man. His lips find yours again, for a fast and hot kiss. Robb's hands wander across your body, his touches are tender, you get goosebumps all over your body. His hands seem to be everywhere on you, sliding down your arms, cupping your breasts, trickling along your waist. His lips followed them down. He kisses ever centimeter of your body. Quiet praises falling from his lips.

"My beautiful wife. My queen. You're perfect. Never think anything else."

And you believe him. With every word, every kiss, the self-doubt disappears. Your body stretches toward him and you feel like the blood in your veins is replaced by fire. Robb's lips slowly wander over your belly, his beard slightly tickles on your skin, his hands move along your sides, laying on your hips.

Feather-light kisses wander over the stretch marks on your belly. "You're so beautiful. I didn't deserve you." Robbs hands slip over your hips down to your thighs, and he slightly pushes them apart. You gladly give in and open your legs for him.Robb makes himself comfortable between your legs, kisses the inside of your thigh, you wimper as his beard strikes over the skin. Anticipation runs through your entire body and you feel yourself clenching around nothing.

"Robb, please."

"Gods, since when have you been so impatient Love?" you can hear the laughter in his voice.

"I have waited months for..." your sentence ends in a cry as his tongue slides through your folds up to your clit. He moans as he tastes you an the vibration sends sparkling through your whole body. Your hand is buried in his curls, your nails scratch slightly over his scalp. You're pressing your hips against his mouth, wimpering desperate. His tongue rotates over your clit. He alternates between sucking and licking. You groan. His beard lightly scratches the skin of your thighs. His tongue slides from your clit through your folds. Robb moans as his tongue presses into you. Your legs are starting to shake again. He rolls his tongue slightly. Hot pleasure runs through you. You twitch against his mouth. Your body shudders and the familiar knot forms in your abdomen. Robb eats you out like a starving man. He licks up every drop of your wetness. His tongue skilled switches back and forth. He feast on your cunt, licks over your folds and your clit. Then he sucks lightly, making you scream. For a moment you're worried that the guards in the hallway will hear you, but when Robb drives back inside you and rolls his tongue every thought flies out of your mind and all you can do is moan for him. Your fingernails scrape across his scalp. He groans and this sound is enough to make you clench again. Your hips rise towards him. Robb laughs darkly and pushes you back onto the bed with one hand. He is enjoying himself a little to much. His tongue doesn't stop for a second.

"Robb I." you start but can't finish your sentence. The pleasure he gives you makes your whole body tremble. You notice sweat forming on your forehead. You shift back and forth in his grip. Can't decide if it's too much or if you want more.

"I got you my beautiful wife." his voice sends vibrations through your core and you flinch away slightly. But Robbs immediately pulls you back onto his mouth. "Come for me." his tongue slaps against your clit. You moan and your orgasm washes over you. You squeeze your eyes shut as you writhe back and forth on the sheets. Your body pulsates pleasantly as your pleasure takes over you. Robb carefully kisses your middle, your thighs, tastes your wetness on his tongue. Robbs fingers caress your legs.

You're slowly coming back to reality. Your skin burns under his fingers. Your breathing is heavy and you have to blink a few times before your vision becomes clear again. You lean slightly on your elbows and look down at Robb. His eyes are on you, he is watching you. There is a satisfied grin on his lips.

"Your are a sight for sore eyes Wifey." his voice is now heavy with his northern accent. His eyes dark with lust and pure desire in his gaze. The hunger in his eyes makes you blush like a maiden and at the same time sends hot shivers through you.

With a smile on your lips your roll your eyes. Your heart is full of love for Robb. He places another kiss on your center. You twitch away from the overstimulation. You whimper softly. Robb sits up again. His hand wipes your wetness from his beard before letting his lips wander over your body again. He knows well that you can´t stand the cold feeling of his wet beard on your skin. He, on the other hand, loves it when the evidence of your desire for him runs down his chin.

Your lips meet for a kiss, you taste yourself on his tongue. You moan and lean into his touch. Your hands wander down his body impatiently,your hands paint over his hardness, his hips bend forward and he groans in your kiss. Suddenly your hands are pushed away and in the next moment Robb pushes his pants from his hips. His cock is hard and stretches toward you, the tip red and dripping with precum.

"I know I have a lot to make up for but I can't wait." you giggle softly at his words and open your legs for him again. His gaze lingers briefly on his wet middle and he takes a deep, shaky breath. “Fuck you look like a goddess."

"Stop with the compliments and finally take me." you say impatiently. New desire burns within you. You can hardly wait to finally feel him inside you again.

Robb positions itself at your entrance, your lips meet again for a passionate kiss. Your husband pushes himself inside you with one quick thrust. Your scream is swallowed by your kiss. Robb pauses, pressing his forehead to yours. His body is shaking. Sweat forms on his bare chest. You raise your hands and scratch lightly over your muscles. But you also need a moment too to get used to the feeling of fullness. Gods did you miss this. You push your hips towards him as a sign that he should move. Slowly he pulls back just to let himself sink back into you, making you feel every inch of its length. You throw your head back on the pillow and moan. Your legs spread further, allowing him to go a little deeper inside you. Pleasure runs through your entire body. You wrap your legs around his wais,push yourself towards him. Robb moans in your ear before he curses quietly. He's so deep inside of you, his body heavy and warm on yours, right now there's nothing for you but him. The sky could fall down and you wouldn´t notice.

"Fuck. I missed you so much." you moan. Enjoying his thrusts and the pleasant pulsation in your center.

"I missed you too. I´m so sorry Love. Don't ever doubt me again. I will never let you doubt again how much I desire you. I promise." he kisses your lips, you open your lips a little and his tongue slips back into your mouth.He doesn´t stop his thrusts for a second. Each of his movemens is precise and lets you see stars. Robb takes you slowly, enjoying every second.

The knot in your stomach is starting to build up again as he rolls his hips, grinding over your clit. Your hands wander over his muscular body as your hips meet each of his movements. Your legs start shaking again.

"Fuck Robb."

His hand is on your cheek, and he gently caress you. His lips never leave yours for a second, your tongues dance around each other. He bites your lip. You moan in response. You lean your head back a little, gasping for air. Robbs lips immediately attack your neck again, he sucks dark marks on your skin.

The knot in your body becomes more intense gets stronger with each of its shocks, you can feel how you pulse around his cock "Please don't stop."

"I could never my sweet love." he whispers, hot breath on the skin of your neck. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you."

Your bodies melt into each other. Robb takes your hand, intertwines your fingers with each other. All our thoughts are just Robb, his body on yours, his cock inside you, his sent around you, the feeling of his warm skin on yours. You clench again around him, make him shiver.

"It feels so good." you moan.

Robb smiles, catches your lips in a kiss. "I know Love. If you ever doubt again that you are not the most beautiful woman on earth to me, say a word and I will fuck that nonsense out of your pretty head." You whimper at his words. His thrusts become harder as he gets closer to his own orgasm. Rapid breathing mixes with your moans. "Have you understand me?"

You nod and Robb stops in the middle of his movement. His cock slips almost out of you. You want to scream in frustration.

"Words. You know that."

"Yes, I understand." you say breathlessly.

He rams himself back with one thrust. "How about I keep you full of me. I'll give you another child. So everyone can see how much I love you. This time, I'm doing it right. I will not depart from you, I will tell you every day how beautiful you are."

Your pleasures pass through you like a storm. Heat runs through your veins as your legs start to tremble again. You interlock your ankles behind his lower back and press him closer into you.

"Please." you whisper and you barely recognize your own voice. You pull his head on his hair from your neck back to your lips and kiss him passionately. Robb's moans in your mouth. A dark, animalistic tone that causes a shiver all over your body.

"God, you're gonna look so good, full with my child." Robbs voice trembles. He is lost in his lust and in you.

"Yes, please give me another child Robb." you want a second child, and a third and a fourth. "A whole bunch of wolfpuppies."

Robb laughs quietly, you stretch to kiss his cheek. His beard picks slightly on your cheek as your lips wander over his cheekbone to his neck to spread kisses there. His laughter becomes a moan, his grip on your hands become stronger, as his strokes become faster. Again, you can't suppress a moan, your free hand goes over his arm and you sink your nails into his shoulder, you need something to hold on to. Hot waves of desire pass through your body and you feel your next orgasm approach. You are not sure if you can come again. It´s to much and at the same time not enough.

"I'll share every thought with you, I'll whisper to you in the council meeting that I'd rather would like to bend you right over the table. And when they're all gone, that's exactly what I'm going to do. I don't care if anyone can hear us. Let them. Let everyone hear how much I love you. How much I long for you. You'll get sick of me."

You shiver at his words, your whole body cramps and in the next moment your orgasm breaks over you. You can feel your nails crawling into the skin of his shoulder, and Robb moans when you clench around him. Uncontrollable and overwhelming, your pleasure drowns you and makes your vison blurr. Robb's name falls from your lips like a prayer. Robb is slowing down his strokes again as he leads you through your orgasm. As the first waves weaken, you feel Robb's thrust get faster again, you throw your head back as you cry out loudly.

"You're doing so well. Milking me so good. Gods I would die for just one second longer in your sweet cunt Love." he praises you, thrusting harder into you. Only now do you realize how much he has holding himself back all this time. You whimper and tremble under him. You can't do anything else but take it. Enjoying the feeling of him losing himself inside you while chasing his own orgasm.

Robb's hand goes between your bodys and starts rubbing fast circles over your clit. In the same second he bites your collarbone, as he sinks even deep inside you. With a groan he comes inside you. The combination of his twitching cock inside you, the skillfull circles around your clit and the slight pain at your collarbone pull you over the cliff again and you scream out your lust. Tears flow out of your eyes and your whole body trembles around him.

He moves carefully for a few more moments before stopping. You're both gasping for air. You have to blink before your vision clears again. Your gaze finds his. His eyes are full of love for you. For a moment you're just looking at each other. An exhausted smile spreads on your faces. You whipe a sweaty strand of hair off his forehead and kiss his lips. Then you put your arms around his neck and pull him down to you. Robb lets his weight fall on you, you can feel every inch of his body on your heated skin, but it's not uncomfortable, it makes you feel safe. You feel warm, loved and happy. Everything is as it should be. Not a single thought of self-doubt is in your head. Robb spreads light kisses on your the skind of your neck. You're scratching his neck wraping his damp curls around your fingers. He sight and close his eyes and buries his nose in the crook of your neck. You stay for a few minutes just lying like this, enjoying each other.

Robb kisses your forehead, then gently rolls down from you. As he slips out of you, you immediately miss the feeling of him inside you.

"Are you all right?" he whispers.

"Yes." you answer in the same volume. "You?"

"Of course." smiling, he turns to his side, pulls you in his arms and kisses your cheek. "I mean what I said. There's no one else for me. I love you. With every fiber of my body, I love and desire you. Always. Please don't forget that. I'm sorry you doubted me. That's never gonna happen again. I swear. I love you so much."

You slide closer to him and paint small circles over his chest. "I love you." you kiss his naked chest and caress over his arm. Then you shigh satisfied and cuddel closer to your husband.

"Don't make yourself too comfortable, I'm not done with you jet." he whispers in your ear with a rough, deep voice, and you have to bite your lips to suppress a whimper. Gods, how could you ever doubt him?

#robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark x you #robb stark fic #game of thrones fic #robb stark smut #robb stark x reader smut #got smut #robb stark x you smut #robb stark fluff #robb stark fanfiction #robb stark fanfic #game of thrones

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dr-flipflops · 1 day ago

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OOC: Will's Lonely 18th Birthday people, as per Cresent's request. - @permetutotheworld @the-eclipse-is-in-me @fukurouonthesea Here we go :) Its sooooooo long, I got so bloody carried away, sorry guys.

*Will left another tray in front of Nico's door, a yellow sticky note on the side*

(what the note said is in italics)

*I hope you've been eating all the food I'm giving you Neeks. Ew- I'm 18 today, EW!!! I'm oooooold :( . I don't have to be a functional adult now do I? Surely, I get a pass for being neurodivergent. I hope you have a nice day INSIDE, please come out. I miss you*

*It had been a week, and Nico was still holed up in the cabin. Will had been denied access, but he'd seen Cresent and Noa go in just fine, heck even CLARISSE gained entrance. It broke something inside Will, but he shrugged it off. They were his family, of course he'd let them in. Will was just an inconvenience he had to put up with, and take care of. He'd known Clarisse for years, Cresent was his sister, and Noa was like his little brother*

*Its fine Solace, come on. Its your birthday. Cheer up. Its fine. Everything's okay.*

*Will's siblings had given him a lovely morning, and the campers who remembered and were the ones who still looked him in the eye had wished him at breakfast. It was nice. But it wasn't the same. Chiron had given him the full day empty, but he had no-one to celebrate with. His siblings all had duties, and they refused to let him work on his birthday. Everyone else was busy too. Will would usually go back to Texas for the week to be with his mother, but with Nico holed up he wanted to stay here*

*Besides, it wasn't like he wanted to celebrate it anyways. The only thing good about it was that he was another year closer to the grave. He didn't know what to do, he wished he could work, that way at least he wouldn't feel so lonely and useless. At least healing gave him a purpose and he felt good after saving someone. At least he'd feel something*

*Will lazily walked through the woods, kicking his feet, cupcake with candle in hand. He made it to his special spot on the coast, where he had the shade of the trees, and a view of the sparkling lake, but could still bask in the sun's rays without it bothering his eyes, not that it had ever in the first place. Wind whistled past, and birds sang, the sun shone golden rays that illuminated the rocks, slick with crashing waves*

*The day was undoubted perfect. Will knew it was curtesy of his father, his way of saying "happy birthday". Will was grateful, but he didn't really feel it*

*The candle glowed bright, Will cupped the cupcake in his hands and held it close*

Happy Birthday to me, happy birthday to meee.

*Will blew it out gently, and wished that today would be the day Nico would come out, even if it was to just say a simple hello. Tears stung his eyes and he laughed a little*

Guess I'm an adult now. huh. Never thought I'd get here.

*Will leaned back against the rock behind his perch, face tilted up as one or two tears down*

But you always knew, didn't you Lee? You said I'd make it Micheal, you were right it seems.

*Tears choked his throat, he looked up at the trees shadowing him above, and the sun softly shining through the canopies. It was like they were here, he could almost hear their voice. Almost feel the laughter of the younger ones. Gracie would've loved to meet Fay*

I wish you were here. I wish you all were.

*Something shimmer past his head and he looks to see his mother's smiling face*

*Will jolts upright*

MA!!?

Naomi: Hi Billy!!! Aw, my little William has grown up so much, 18 now! I thought you were coming home for your birthday?

Will: You-you remembered?

Naomi: no, I just happened to throw a drachma into the lake on accide- OF COURSE I REMEMBERED WILLY!!! You're my favourite son, I can't believe expect so little of your mother.

Will: Ma, I'm your only son.

Naomi: Even better! No competition. Anyways, how come you aren't home?

Will: Sorry Ma, things happened, and I got caught up in camp.

Naomi: Aw, I wanna see my son! You're officially an adult!

Will *small laugh*: Still can't drink though.

Naomi: You can drink water.

Will *groans*: Maaaaa

Naomi: Oh pish posh. Those Americanos *tuts* we're Spanish William, they don't have to know *winks*

Will *laughs fully for the first time all day*: Maaa!

Naomi *grumbles about Americans, then gives Will a stern look* : You better come home for Christmas William Andrew Solace, and you can tell that Chiron of yours to stick it where the sun don't shine if he says otherwise

Will *laughs again*: Alright, alright ma!!!

Naomi *smiles*: Seriously. Oh look at you my sweet boy. When you were taken from me, you couldn't even tie your laces, now you're 18, all grown up. *sighs*

Will: I'm still your little boy Ma, always

Naomi: Damn right you are! Don't you change a bit Billy. You've got a big heart, you dare lose it and your Abuelo will roll in the grave, and your Abuela will storm over from Spain

Will: Don't worry! I won't :) Even if the reason is my fear of Abuela's ladle.

Naomi: That woman, when she has her hands on a cooking utensil, y'all better run away or run towards the table ready to be stuffed like a Christmas hog.

Will: Yeah.

Naomi: Well, you're only 18 once Willy, I hope you have a good day!

Will *tight smile, hiding the loneliness*: Yep, terrific, look! I got the cupcakes you sent me!!!

Naomi: Aw, *someone gestures off-screen* uh huh, *back to Will* Billy, I'm so sorry, but I'm gonna have to go, there's something wrong with the sound systems, I'm so sorry. I want to talk to you more, after all, my baby is only gonna turn 18 once, its a special day! *bites lip and looks conflicted*

Will *his heart breaks. He was gonna be alone again. He makes a smile*: Its alright Ma, I've got a cupcake to eat after all! *huffs a laugh*

Naomi *blows him a kiss*: Love ya Willy! Happy birthday sweetheart.

Will: Bye-

*Naomi cuts the message*

-Ma.

*Will swallows. He was alone again. His mother had more important things to do, OF COURSE SHE DID SOLACE, SHE HAS A LIFE, grow up Will. Will took the burnt out yellow candle from the cake, and bites into it*

*It tasted like home. Tears brimmed on Will's eyes and warm memories flooded his brain at the chocolate melting in his mouth*

*Memories of Spain- the brightly coloured streamers everyone would hang around. Abuela would be cooking a feast in the kitchen , so Will would wake up to the scents of heaven filling the house and smooches from Ma. He'd bound down the stairs and promptly be told that even though it was his birthday he still had to brush his teeth. Will would get it done as fast as possible, then go and help Ma bake cookies and cupcakes. He'd go outside and immediately be pelted with shouts and cries, hugs and noogies from the neighbourhood kids. Then, after being fed like a king, at night, the family would gather and Will would blow out the candles, and cut the cake to find the clue at the center*

*He'd use the clue to find others to find his gifts, which only then he'd be able to open. The whole procedure from the candles, to the singing, to the cake, to the hunt, to the opening would be filmed. Will's beaming face photographed on his birthday every year*

*Will finished the cupcake, and found a note in the centre. Hollowness that had filled his heart swelled. It was a little heart with a smile, and a "happy birthday Billy". Will smiled through the tears, and he was almost home in Texas with his Ma. But he looked up and the empty lonely came back. He smiled a bit through the tears. At least his Ma had sent him these. Will knew he was going to find other notes in the other cupcakes, he turned the paper over and found another message: "Brush ya teeth Billy"*

*Will laughed, and no one heard*

-----

*That night, Will came back late, his siblings already fast asleep*

*He felt vacant again*

*Nico had decidedly NOT come out. He didn't see Aria's smile all day, and Noa never even said hi. Cresent, as per usual, avoided him*

*Will collapsed into bed, and curled up. Emotionally exhausted*

*He missed home. He missed his Ma. He mourned his life. He mourned the Will Solace he used to be, the one everyone sees, the one everyone wants. Campers look at him, but its not him they see, they see the Will they knew, the Will he'll never live up- hell he doesn't even remember the memories, HE DOESN'T KNOW THAT WILL. He missed Nico. He missed being loved. He missed so much. He hated this overwhelming, all consuming loneliness. It's like his life has been reset, and everyone is treading on eggshells, and he was deserted by those he loved most all over again*

*For his "special day" he sure as hell didn't feel it- DON'T BE SELFISH SOLACE. he felt nothing at all, and while that may be a blessing some days, today he hated it. Hated himself. Hated living*

*When he had gone to pick up Nico's tray he saw that Nico hadn't taken the note. He always took the note. Will didn't bother placing another one with the next tray*

*Something consumed him*

*That night, Will cried himself to sleep*

#a #long post #LOOOOONG POST #jesus #solangelo #will solace #will solace rp #will rp #nico di angelo #nico pjo #pjo #will pjo #cresent solace #noa #aria

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bumblingbabooshka · 10 hours ago

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I think Sarek and Amanda Grayson both lowkey seeing their children as little experiments in different ways is undeniably bad parenting BUT .... I mean you talk about matching each other's freak .... Like imagine for a second Sarek is like "I am going to show that Humans are just as good as Vulcans by molding this Human child and my half Human son into the perfect Vulcans - This will show that despite what society thinks of as their genetic inferiority, they're just as good as any Vulcan." and Amanda's response to that is to think "Sarek is wrong...Michael's humanity MUST be preserved...so that I can show her all the love and affection I can't show Spock and maybe through their sibling bond all my unspoken and unexpressed love can trickle down to him through her." What are you both DOOOOING!?? You guys are NUTS like PLEASE just TALK to each other and compromise about how you're going to raise your children!! [Love the drama though] So I'm imagining in my head that Sarek is severely pressuring both Spock and Michael to act as perfect Vulcans their entire lives with him or else they're failures not only in his eyes but in all of society's (because he's an ambassador and raising these children is tied irrevocably with his work as such) WHILE Amanda is secretly trying to funnel her humanity and love for Spock through Michael and as such failure to receive, express, or internalize that love is failing not only your mother but also the entire Human race. Damned if you do damned if you don't! Who do you want to disappoint more, kids?

In 'Point of Light' Amanda says that she gave Michael all of the love, joy, and affection which she wasn't "permitted" (we must question the use of the word - what stopped her from directly giving Spock this love? I'm not saying there wasn't pressure for her not to, I'm saying the word 'permitted' absolves her of any personal choice or failing in a way that's interesting to me) to give Spock and though this is on the surface level sweet and probably meant to be interpreted that way, I submit that it must be kind of fucked up to hear that your foster mother was maybe only so kind and caring to you because she felt she wasn't allowed to act that way towards her "real" son. Michael Burnham as a tool for both her parents, however unintentional, is very interesting and I'm not sure it's something canon considers (haven't watched the show, I just like imagining things). The feeling that you have to be grateful to these people for not only being your parents but being YOUR parents. For taking you in and giving you a beautiful life - you have to pay them back, you have to make them especially proud of YOU. Because they didn't HAVE to, did they? Because you're not their "real" child. In the end, it's always Spock - isn't it? The love your mother gives you is Spock's love and if only one child can enter the Vulcan Science Academy then it has to be Spock. You're the appetizer your father serves before the REAL main course and your mother's stuffed doll which represents the thing she REALLY wants to hold and you know they genuinely care about you. That's the worst part. Because you know they care and they didn't mean to hurt you and the voice in the back of your head keeps telling you that any hurt they've dealt you pales in comparison to the debt you owe them and they love you, they love you, they love you, they love you, they love you [repeat as often as need be: remember the debt]

#Amanda & Sarek @ a traumatized child: Congratulations!!! You are now one of our elite [emotional/political] employees~!!#<- My personal headcanon of them where they're both strange and terrible parents in their own unique ways is so delicious to me #Enough 'Vulcans are evil and Humans are good' in Spock related storylines and more 'What the fuck are Sarek & Amanda doing fr'#Maybe the real evil is so closely monitoring your children's traits and behavior and being disappointed #when they express anything which doesn't embody what you personally want for them regardless of if that's #'to be Vulcan' or 'to be Human'#If you're not Vulcan enough your dad's gonna be disappointed and if you aren't Human enough your mother's gonna cry #they can love each other for who they are but NOT you bucko you gotta CHOOSE!!!!#I hope this makes sense again I have NOT watched Disco I am just intrigued by what could be #Sarek & Amanda have to foster toxic relationships with their children so they can keep their own romance healthy - it has to go SOMEWHERE

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pixeltwix · 20 hours ago

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⚠️Emma May & Ciphertology⚠️

-Backpacking off of my theory from yesterday!! Very long text post incoming-

I’m of the mind where not only do I believe Emma May’s family was in a cult, but that they continued to practice its teachings after being disbanded. From here this is just my own personal ramblings as I have a very long and personal take on Emma May and Fiddleford’s lives and history as a whole and separately. Today will be dedicated to Em’s side (ft her families designs as well :3 )

Emma May’s father, Dale Dixon, is the older brother of Madeline Dixon- the teenage girl who was one of the first to be swayed by this Silas Birchtree. It’s implied she fell for him in place of her boyfriend at the time, but I choose to believe this was a lingering affection she’d keep for life in her worship.

Being a young man at the birth, peak, and end of Ciphertology already with a wife and children, Dale was too closely wooed by the teachings of Silas and the inter-dimensional being that was Bill Cipher. He was a bit of a cult kiss ass, if you will. He’d be the first to do whatever Silas would suggest or order of the cults people and the man was happy to do it. Be it shaving his head and painting on an eye or attempting to build the portal he had zero qualifications for alongside everyone else.

Naturally after the cult was disbanded and everyone was put into witness protection, while Dale accepted the state relocation for his family (to Virginia) he refused any government aid beyond that. Instead dragging his young family and sister into the woods where he constructed a shabby little home for them. A home where no one would contradict his word and he could continue the teachings of Ciphertology.

Emma May was born only a few short years later. And while her father had already named one of her older brothers as a namesake to his idol, Silas, her mother named her in turn for her secret idol, Emmaline Butternubbins. She knew Dale would never accept the original name, so she did what she could to compromise- it was a cope of sorts. Thelma Lou, Em’s mother, unfortunately has no say in her husbands madness and is slowly being broken down to the cult. While she had some resistance when Em was born it wouldn’t last too terribly long as soon every adult figure in the family believed in Ciphertology.

Growing up in the middle of nowhere Appalachia’s, Emma May didn’t have much outside influence other than the mini cult community her father had created over the years within neighboring people. She knew no different than the madness and basic cult ideas of ‘have as many kids and wives as you want just so we can create more followers’ sort of mindset. The only hiccup was that Emma May was never dumb, she wasn’t so easily swayed by the triangles teachings, she always internally questioned everything- no matter what adult was telling her things she always was left with a feeling of ‘is that really true though?’

She kept such thoughts to herself, assuming she wouldn’t have to actually do anything notable within the cult, she was shocked and horrified when at the age of 15 her father was bringing her before an older man to marry. An older man who already had a handful of wives. She knew even if she was older she wouldn’t want this life, seeing upfront her mothers decay in the cult and the mass of siblings that she had..she didn’t want that. She wanted an education, basic rights, and just? Freedom from this. She didn’t know if the outside world would be different, but at that point she didn’t much care. She wanted out and she needed out fast.

Running away from home before the official marriage ceremony she remains on the run until she makes it to Fredericksburg, VA. A bustling friendly town that otherwise left her feeling like she was in an alien world. She looked straight out of the early 1900s in a wave of hip and groovy late 1960’s styles. While she couldn’t read anymore than simple words she skimmed through the phone book of a nearby cafe, and while unable to find any Dixon outside of her indoctrinated family she found hope in searching for names under her mothers maiden name, ‘Finch’.

Discovering a man in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey, by the name of Benjamin Finch she manages to find her mothers estranged brother. A man her mother was forced to shun and block out the second he expressed concern over her involvement in a cult. Thankfully upon learning who she was he was more than happy to shelter her, albeit he only lived in a trailer as he practically lived in the museum he worked at. Making her way up the East coast, Emma May finds herself in Jersey, her uncle slowly acclimating her to modern life. Teaching her how to read, to write, and most importantly teaching her the reality of the world. Luckily he wasn’t a religious man of any sorts and rooted her in modern thoughts of science, feminism, and other new age ideas of the time.

Once he felt she was ready he let her attend Glass Shard High, getting the education she always wanted despite struggling to understand the basics. This didn’t get her down though as she was determined to graduate someday. Instead she tracks down local nerd and idea enthusiast, Stanford Pines, someone she hardly finds to be ‘a freak’ considering her cultish upbringing was beyond bizarre (plus she learned from an early age to find beauty in the ‘odd’ or ‘weird’) Befriending a young Ford and learning from him she also befriends Stan, someone who was more than willing to help her break out of her docile and dainty shell. Stan’s girlfriend at the time, Carla McCorkle was equally happy to teach her the modern idea of feminine rather than beaten to death old book concepts. Living in Jersey, in short, was slowly thawing her from the confines of her upbringing- developing into the life she always wanted and frankly? She was thriving!

She was also gaining her own beliefs in this time. Such as ‘marriage is stupid’ and ‘having kids is stupid, I’m never going to have them’ sort of mindset. Thanks to her upbringing she swore then and there that she would never have a family of her own. So, that’s what makes her next phase of life particularly ironic.

After the science project incident in senior year between the Pines brothers the friend circle would face a brutal falling out, the only one keeping in touch with everyone being Emma May herself. Stan is kicked out and the brothers aren’t talking, Carla breaks up with Stan and refuses any more connection to the Pines, and Em is left in limbo to comfort and appease everyone whilst ignoring her own feelings about it all. Between the late night girl talks with Carla, keeping Ford off the edge, and letting Stan stay with her in the trailer it was only a matter of time before her juggling attempts would fall.

And that’s exactly what happened- after Ford discovers she’s been harboring Stan he can’t help the rush of anger, insecurity, and betrayal that someone he considered his only friend left to hide that from him. Also afraid of losing a friend who’s done so much for her in her cult unlearning she’s quick to prove her loyalty. Packing her bags after graduation she joins Ford to Backupsmore to continue supporting him, taking up a diner job beside campus and shacking up in a cheap apartment. She continues secretly offering Stan money when she can as she still feels guilt for her decision, but it becomes less frequent as she’s now supporting herself financially on her own.

But of course her sole company of Ford wouldn’t last forever. Especially when all she tends to hear from him is how cool his roommate is and how’s he’s thrilled to be around another intellectual mind for once. And while he was hesitant to introduce his two friends to one another it was quick history after that-

Em absolutely deals with a lot of survivors guilt and general fear (lots of ‘I can’t believe I left my younger siblings behind, what if thEY were forced to marry that man in my place?!’ and ‘what if the cult tracks me down and forces me back home?!’) and on top of that I already feel she’s got some religious based ptsd and some bpd in there as well, but I think that would make her more endeared to Fiddleford when they first meet. A man who was pretty open about his own anxiety and ocd (idk if that’s a popular hc, but him having ocd makes so much sense to me) definitely helped her understand herself better and the two of them absolutely developed ways to help one another with it. They become each other’s safe spaces essentially <3

I feel like all of this is something I could talk about for hOURS, but I feel I’ve already typed up enough for today. So take this all as you will :) it’s just been super fun rewriting the story I had for her. I always envisioned her to be a teen runaway and living with her estranged uncle in Jersey, but now it makes even more sense plugging in my cult theory. But anywho, I hope this was an enjoyable for y’all to read as it was for me to type

#gravity falls #the book of bill #book of bill #gravity falls fandom #emma may dixon #gravity falls fanart #fiddleford mcgucket #ford pines #bill cipher #stan pines #carla mccorkle #ciphertology #gravity falls theory #gravity falls thoughts #young fiddleford #gravity falls oc #oc #fanart

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zairas-realm-gateway · 2 days ago

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Ooooh my god, I'm on season 9 of my SPN rewatch (about halfway through) and something finally makes sense to me this time around.

Sam is going through his teenage rebellion phase!

You're probably thinking "but Zaira, he already had that when he was an actual teenager"!

Yes but that was rebelling against his biological father. But now he's finally able to rebel against his actual parent.

And why is this? Because the trials catapulted them both back into their parent-child relationship. Because from the second that Dean picks up on the fact that the trials are making Sam sick, Dean slides into parent mode. He starts to make decisions pre-emptively to keep Sam safe and relaxed when a caretaker!sibling would ask if the injured sibling would ask if they're good to keep working. He prepares and brings food/drink to Sam repeatedly when a sibling would ask if the injured sibling wants something to eat or drink. At this point, sibling!Dean has gone dormant and parentified!Dean has reawakened.

Because Dean has reverted to this programming, he has reverted to the desperate need to do anything to keep his child alive, even if the child hates him. A mindset that parents are trapped in.

The first sibling thought that Dean has had is to leave to give them both distance to recover and give Sam space.

Where Dean is acting like a parent, Sam is acting like his child.

It is completely reasonable for Sam to be upset over how Dean saved him and to keep making decisions for him. But it's how he's going about being angry at Dean is rather childlike or teenager like. Not childish, but childlike.

He's moody and hurt when Dean leaves even though Dean explains it to give Sam space. A few episodes later, they're working on a case and Dean tries to do it by himself so Sam can be comfortable but Sam gets upset at Dean for abandoning him. Dean finally caves and admits he wants to be near Sam. Sam says he wants that but also states that they're not brothers anymore right now.

This setup is why I'm saying that Sam is acting a bit in a childlike manner. Because even though he's rebelling against Dean and pushing away him away (which is reasonable) but also needs Dean to be near him (abused children can have a confusing, clingy relationship with their parent even if fighting). Sam wants him close (physical proximity and possibly emotionally) but also keeps throwing up barriers that Dean doesn't know how to navigate.

He wants Dean to talk honestly with him (which Dean tries to be) nd see reason but then when Sam explains himself he's still being vague in his answers. Saying things that are honest but also worded in a way that will purposely cut at Dean's soul. When if Sam added more detail to responses, Dean would still be hurt but understand more clearly. Dean has a lot of insecurities and anxieties, he has an incredibly brittle core, he needs deeper details in order to get an actual picture of what Sam is feeling.

Like when they're in the kitchen, Dean tells Sam that he'd do anything to get Sam out of a coma. He says that Sam would do the same. Sam's like "no, I wouldn't." Dean is visibly injured by these words as Sam leaves. This answer feels petty and childish because he obviously wants to injure Dean, to lash out in retaliation.

A more mature way (which sam usually is) of saying this , is to explain why he would let Dean pass away. He could have said something like "because you deserve to rest", "Because it's cruel to force you to keep going", "Because you've already done so much for everyone", etc. Anything to explain why he would let it happen so that Dean isn't left feeling gutted.

What I'm trying to say is that this season, both Sam and Dean are emotionally injured. That injury has regressed them to the default setting John programmed them to be: Parent and Child.

This programming makes it nearly impossible for them to find their footing as equal brothers because they're instinctively finding themselves in the power-imbalance of a parent-child relationship.

So, again, John fucked their lives.

#[because John forced Dean to be a parent he has corrupted Dean's chance of being a sibling #supernatural #spn analysis #sam winchester #dean winchester #winchester analysis #spn

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shina913 · 2 days ago

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Scions, Ch.9 | Kim Line + JHS

Scions (series)

sci·on | \ ˈsī-ən \ Definition: (1) a descendant (2) a shoot or twig, especially one cut for grafting or planting

✼Scions Masterlist✼

Pairing: Sister!Reader + Kim brothers; JHS x Fem!Reader; some POV shifts in scenes

Rating: M (🔞)

Genre: ANGST!!!!!! Siblings!AU; Marriage!AU; Family!AU; FWB!AU; exes to ?; siblings' best friend; smut; fluff

Chapter warnings: heavy drama; references to character death (not the members); grieving/mourning; infidelity; references to pregnancy loss; allusions to smut but nothing explicit

Word count: 9.9k

Summary: Four grown siblings return to their childhood hometown after their father is declared to be terminal. They are forced to live under the same roof for days, along with their overbearing mother, to say their final goodbyes. It starts off nostalgic until some unresolved family issues along with an assortment of spouses, exes, and might-have-beens make things even more interesting.

A/N: I'm back (sort of)! I'm happy to have been able to revisit this story, this family, and this AU. There are many moving parts to this chapter--POV shifts over multiple scenes. To think this all happens in a span of 24hrs (in this AU) 😵‍💫

I want to say that this is the penultimate chapter, as this story is about to come to an end. Hopefully, it won’t take me another year to finish the finale 😬

Last year, my family experienced a loss. I channeled much of the emotions from that experience into this chapter. My hope is that you'll find it as cathartic to read as I found it to write.

If you’re still following along (after all this time), thank you for sticking around and I want you to know that I appreciate you🩵

“Would anybody care for some shots?” Taehyung asks nobody in particular after you all walk through the door.

Your mind lingers on what you witnessed before leaving the bar. Though drowning the memory with more drinks is tempting, you decide against it. “I’ve had enough for tonight, thanks,” you say. “If you guys are drinking more, can you please try to keep it down?” you ask your brothers as you head upstairs to check on your kids.

“Welp, since she’s out…” Taehyung looks at his brothers expectantly.

“Sure, pour me one,” Namjoon says.

Taehyung looks at Jin, who sighs and eventually acquiesces. “Okay, but only if we drink something better than that shit tequila from the cupboard!”

“Aww, but it’s tradition,” Taehyung whines. “And, if I remember correctly, it was you who introduced us to that shit tequila!”

“Not by choice!” Jin says wryly, glancing at Namjoon.

“Me? It’s not my fault I caught you sneaking around,” Namjoon retorts with a chuckle.

“Yeah, but then you got YN and him into it—ugh,” Jin groans. Realizing the argument is dampening the mood, he says, “Nevermind. The point is, I have something better!”

He walks up to one of the lower kitchen cabinets and retrieves an unlabeled bottle–no taller than seven inches–containing an amber-colored liquid.

Taehyung picks it up and holds it against the light, eyeing it curiously. “What is it?” he asks.

“A side project I’ve been working on,” Jin answers, his tone filled with quiet pride. “It’s a whiskey that I made using traditional methods. Namjoon gave me the idea for it a couple of years ago.”

A smile tugs at Namjoon’s lips as he recalls the night. Admittedly, it was more of a drunken suggestion than a moment of genius, but seeing Jin’s dedication to bringing it to life fills him with a sense of admiration.

Jin continues, “I finally figured out a great recipe.”

“Do you have a name for it?” Namjoon asks.

“For now, it’s ‘Number 20’—as in, it’s my 20th attempt,” Jin chuckles softly. As his laughter subsides, he turns wistful. “A few weeks ago, before he went to the hospital, Dad took a sip and…he suggested we sell it in small batches. He thought it had the potential to be something special.”

Namjoon and Taehyung go quiet, at the mention of your dad’s memory.

Jin clears his throat, in an attempt to keep the tone light. “Anyway, I can’t think of a better time to share it with my brothers.”

Taehyung carefully unscrews the cap of the bottle. He lifts the bottle to his nose and takes a sniff of its contents, his face immediately contorts in reaction. “Oof…the smell alone feels like it’s going to knock me out for the next couple of days,” he exclaims with a hearty laugh that echoes through the room. He then passes the bottle to Namjoon, whose expression quickly mirrors Taehyung’s grimace as the potent smell hits his nostrils.

Jin laughs at their reactions. “It’s a little concentrated, I know. Dad took a fat nap after we took shots.”

Smiling fondly, Taehyung looks at his older brothers. “What are we standing around for? Let’s grab some glasses!”

Namjoon retrieves three glencairn glasses from the cupboard and lines them up in front of his younger brother, who starts pouring.

“Okay-okay-okay, that’s more than enough!” Jin sputters, scolding Taehyung for his heavy-handedness. “Just go up to here.” He holds his finger up to the fullest part of the glass.

Taehyung snickers, takes the ‘overpoured’ glass for himself, and passes the other two to his older brothers. “The Kim brothers, together again,” he beams as he picks up his drink.

Namjoon smiles warmly at his younger brother’s sentimentality.

“Should we toast to anything?” Taehyung turns to Jin, who looks puzzled.

“What are you looking at me for? He’s the spokesperson of this family,” he points to Namjoon.

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “I think I’ve done enough speaking today, thanks.”

“Why don’t you say something, hyung? It doesn’t have to be deep,” Taehyung laughs.

“Why do we have to say anything at all? Can’t we just drink it?” Jin complains.

“I’m sure you have something in mind,” Namjoon coaxes. “Just say whatever feels right.”

Jin puffs his cheeks out and blows out a breath. He wasn’t poetic like Namjoon, nor was he tender-hearted like Taehyung.

He was ‘just Jin.’ The oldest brother, who took it upon himself to move back home after graduating college to help out in the family business; married his high school sweetheart and bought a house in the same neighborhood as his childhood home.

The one who constantly looked in on his retired parents while all of his siblings flew the nest to pursue opportunities away from home.

Shaking his thoughts away, he raises his glass, and his brothers mirror his gesture. “Alright, alright.” He clears his throat before continuing. “At the risk of sounding cheesy, I’d like to say that although this may not have been the best circumstance to bring us all together, I’m still glad that we’re all together. And I hope we can do this more often, even without dad or mom prompting us.”

Namjoon and Taehyung stare at Jin with goofy smiles on their faces.

He groans in mild annoyance. “See, I told you guys—”

“That was beautiful, hyung,” Taehyung remarks.

“I agree. Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Namjoon adds.

Jin’s ears turn red with a mix of embarrassment and pride as his brothers shower him with compliments. In his heart, he hopes that their beloved father, wherever he is, can see this moment.

“Cheers!”

His younger brothers clinked their glasses against his, then tilted them to their lips for a sip.

********

You’re in bed, tossing and turning. You feel tired, but sleep won’t come. You wish you had accepted Taehyung’s offer for a night cap. It might have helped subdue all the racing thoughts in your head and the emotions you’ve been feeling all day. From your dad’s memorial to the shock of Sam’s divorce filing.

That kiss…

You squeeze your eyes shut at the memory. Grabbing a pillow, hold it to your face, and muffle your frustrated groans into it. Then with a huff, you roll out of bed.

When you step out into the hallway, you pad your way to your parents’ bedroom first. You poke your head in to find your kids peacefully asleep with your mom. The sight of it is heartwarming, despite the chaos swirling in your head.

You head downstairs to the kitchen and make your way to a specific cupboard. There, hidden behind some condiments, you find the communal tequila bottle. This is the same bottle you and your brothers used to sneak sips from, always making sure to top it off to the marked level so your dad wouldn’t notice.

That was, until one fateful night when Taehyung not only left it out on the counter but also forgot to refill it. Your dad was furious, and Jin, being the noble brother he is, tried to take all the blame. Despite his efforts, the guilt got to all of you, leading to a group confession. In the end, instead of scolding you, your dad found it amusing. When Taehyung finally reached the legal drinking age, he decided to make it a family tradition, insisting on keeping the ritual of refilling the bottle.

You fondly stroke your thumb over the smudged marker on the bottle’s label, chuckling at the thought of this silly but beloved family inside joke.

You’re about to pour yourself a shot when something on the kitchen counter catches your eye—a bottle that is less than half-filled with some amber liquid. You unscrew the top and bring the bottle closer to your nose. It smells like whiskey, but a bit more fragrant than you’re used to. You decide to pour some into the cap and take a tentative sip. Convinced, you grab a glass from the cupboard and pour yourself a generous shot.

As you let the alcohol settle into your bloodstream, you glance out the kitchen window towards Hobi’s house, where the porch light is on. You blink and squint, trying to focus.

You pour yourself another hefty shot and toss it back, shuddering involuntarily from its potency.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, but it almost feels like the porch light is glowing more brightly than usual, like it’s calling you. Before you know it, your feet, seemingly moving on their own, carry you across the street.

********

Despite your stomach churning, you do your best not to ruin the nice patch of azaleas next to you. You know you shouldn’t be here, especially not in this state. Nevermind that you’d already embarrassed yourself earlier this evening when you picked a stupid fight with Hoseok at the bar. To make matters worse, you kissed him!

However, as messy as you were, that kiss made you realize how much you missed that kind of intimacy and connection with someone. Then again, it also feels wrong to think about it, because it’s completely self-serving. Truth be told, you weren’t in a position to be selfish.

You groan from the pounding in your head, likely caused by whatever mystery alcohol you just had. If you ever remember anything from this evening, you make a mental note to ask Taehyung what the hell that was.

I should head back, you tell yourself, trying to hang on to the last bit of reason you have. You grab onto the iron handrail and manage to stand up, even though your legs feel like jelly.

And yet, you make no effort to move. It’s as if a part of you knows you still have unfinished business to handle, and that’s what’s keeping you here.

Seconds later, headlights round the corner. The intense brightness temporarily blinds you, so you shield your face. The car pulls into the driveway, coming to a stop right where you stand. The engine and lights shut off, and the driver’s side door slams in the quiet night.

As you lower your hand, you’re faced with your unfinished business standing in front of you. The tension between you is palpable, with years of unspoken words and repressed feelings threatening to spill out of you.

“I’ve got some leftovers from the bar. Want some?” Hoseok offers.

The mere thought of food makes you nauseous. You shift uncomfortably, seeking some form of stability, but nothing helps. Your surroundings start to spin, and just when you think you’re about to fall over, he rushes to your side to hold you upright.

“Okay,” he says with a light chuckle. “Why don’t we go inside and have a good hurl first, hm?”

********

Sitting in this kitchen felt…strange. The space had changed so much since you last remembered it that it seemed like an entirely different house.

Namjoon had told you that after Hoseok’s mom retired and bought a smaller apartment across town, he had transformed his childhood home into a bachelor pad of sorts.

The first floor’s layout felt more open now that the divider wall between the kitchen and living room had been knocked down. The plastic-covered plaid furniture was gone, replaced by more modern fixtures that complemented the interior’s neutral palette.

You wonder if the changes to this home mirrored the changes Hoseok himself had gone through the years.

“Want some more coffee?” He leaned on the kitchen counter, watching as you stared at the table. The family’s original dining table stood out as the only contrasting piece of furniture. It was the sole item he had kept from the ‘old house.’

This table was where you and your brothers had done homework while waiting for your dad to finish work, where they had hosted your family for countless dinners. It held memories of many conversations and laughs.

You glance at your mug and chuckle at his offer. “Thanks, but I’m good. I should get going soon.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to lie down for a bit?” He’s concerned, but doesn’t want to come across pushy.

That might help, but you worry that if you stayed any longer, you’d end up passing out for the rest of the night—and that probably wouldn’t be the smartest move for you, knowing your kids would be looking for you in the morning.

You shake your head, politely declining. “Thank you, though.”

“Alright. Just trying to be a good host, that’s all,” he says with a warm smile. “Guess this means your alcohol tolerance hasn’t changed. Still a lightweight, huh?” He jokes.

You roll your eyes. “Please,” you scoff, finishing your coffee. “I had a couple shots of unlabeled whiskey without knowing how strong it was. My body was just a bit shocked, that’s all,” you say defensively.

He gets up from his seat and moves towards you. You steel yourself as he leans in... to pick up your empty mug. “I’m only teasing. Sorry about that,” he smirks before walking away.

Smiling nervously, you massage your temple as he heads toward the sink.

Despite the seemingly lighthearted tone of this exchange, there’s still an undercurrent of tension. You can’t easily forget about this evening’s confrontation—it’s mainly why you stumbled here in your inebriated state. The other reason?

“Are you and Dara a thing?” The words tumble out before you know it.

The steady stream of water from the faucet is the only sound that fills the room while he mulls over your question.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you blurt out, regret washing over you. “I-I should leave.” You stumble to your feet, your legs unsteady, your head pounding as you make for the door. A nagging voice in you reminds you that, given your complicated history, you have no right to pry into his personal life.

“Was that why you were sitting on my front stoop, drunk, in the middle of the night?”

You freeze, your hand hovering over the door latch as his question lingers. Torn between the urge to flee and wanting answers, it gave you pause.

He calls out your name.

Slowly, you turn to face him, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Would you believe me if I said ‘no’?” you wince.

Hoseok chuckles wryly. “You know you can’t bullshit your way through this.”

There’s no turning back now. Shoulders slumping in defeat, you admit, “I saw you and Dara having a moment as my brothers and I were leaving Hangsang.” You shrug, adding, “Looks like you guys got closer over the years.”

He stands there, an unreadable look on his face as he processes your words. When you realize he was making no attempt to deny it, you come to a hasty conclusion. You couldn’t disguise the disappointment from your tone.

“So, it’s true? You and Dara are—”

“Were,” he corrects you. “Past tense.”

Hoseok had hoped he didn’t need to have this conversation with you, but since you brought it up, there was no point in avoiding it.

“She and I were intimate a few times, but it didn’t go beyond that." He clears his throat, expression softening as he moves from behind the counter towards you.

“We found comfort in each other. I was watching my dad fade away, and she lost her husband,” he trailed off. “It just…happened. But we’re not in any kind of relationship.”

“And you’re sure she understands that?” you ask, recalling how Dara had tenderly stroked Hoseok’s face.

“She does,” he replies. “I made it clear I couldn’t offer her anything more. I wasn’t in a good place emotionally, and I knew I wasn't ready to open my heart to anyone.”

His admission weighs on you, but you try not to dwell on it. After all, Hoseok is a grown man capable of making his own decisions.

“Thank you for being honest,” you say quietly, at a loss for words.

“You know I can’t lie to you. And I won’t, because I have no reason to. Besides,” he says, stopping mere inches from you, “as Dara put it, when I look at her, I see someone else.”

His gaze coupled with his proximity sets your pulse racing, and the room seems to shrink, filled with emotions you’ve tried to bury for years. His warm breath on your skin makes you want to close the gap between you.

“You’re it for me,” he says softly. “Without you, I was ready to spend the rest of my life walking around with a hole in my chest.”

His confession overwhelms you, causing a lump to form in your throat.

“Am I pathetic or what?” He chuckles wryly.

You shake your head. “Not in the least,” you say softly.

During a marriage counseling session, Sam said your love for him felt limited—contrived, even. You disagreed, insisting that having a second child proved your full commitment to him, which you genuinely believed at the time.

As time passed, you and Sam drifted apart. Returning to your hometown has only magnified the disconnect in your marriage. It's not that Sam is a bad partner; you just aren't fully present. A piece of you is missing, and that's what's keeping you from giving your all.

Now you realize what you've known all along—the person before you has always held that missing piece.

“It’s always been you, sunshine. Always.”

Your breath catches as you choke back a sob. “Hoseok,” you breathe out.

He cups your face, gently wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. His warmth envelops you instantly. He may call you “sunshine,” but he was always your source of light. You decided then that you were done hiding in the shadows, and it was time to step back into the sun.

You lean in and kiss him, pouring all your angst and pain into it. As your lips touch, it feels like no time has passed. The connection between you is still there, as strong as ever.

He tightens his grip on you with his free hand, pulling you closer until no space remains between you. You both move towards the living room. Eager and breathless, you stumble onto the couch—a tangle of limbs and ragged breaths. The outside world fades away as you lose yourselves in each other.

********

Jin heads back upstairs to his room after having a few drinks with his brothers. He opens the door to find his wife, Yoojung, sleeping peacefully in bed.

He leans against the doorframe, watching her chest rise and fall in even breaths. He thinks about how lucky he is to have somebody like her as his partner and how amazing she’s been over the past couple of weeks.

He strips off his clothes and crawls into bed, pausing to kiss her forehead before settling in.

She stirs, her hand blindly feeling around for him in the dark. When she finds him, she slowly opens her eyes, smiling drowsily.

“Hi,” she croaks out.

“Hi,” Jin answers. “Feeling any better?” She’d been under the weather for a few days.

“Yeah,” she replies.

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that to make me feel better? I can take you to see the doctor tomorrow.”

She shakes her head slowly. “I’m fine, really,” she insists. “I think the last few days just caught up with me.”

She’d been constantly on the go, shouldering the burden of caring for the entire household while the family grieved.

He strokes her cheek, feeling guilty about how much she’s done for his family. “I’m sorry. My siblings are here for a couple more days, and once they leave, we can go back to our own home. Back to peace and quiet,” he says with a hint of humor.

“You don’t need to apologize,” she reassures him, “but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward coming back to our own place.”

He goes in for another kiss, this one more intense than the first. His lips move against hers, tender and loving, showing how much he appreciates her without saying a word.

When they come up for air, they’re both breathless.

“Wow, what was that for?” she asks, her cheeks flushed.

“Just a thank-you for being the best,” Jin answers. “I know being around my whole family is chaotic, but I’m grateful that you’ve been so patient in putting up with them.”

Yoojung’s lips curve into a gentle smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I don’t put up with them. They’re my family, too. I was happy to take care of everybody.”

Jin’s chest swells with so much love for her. He caresses her cheek, saying, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Without me, you’d be stuck eating leftovers from the restaurant every day for dinner,” she jokes.

Jin throws his head back, laughing heartily. The alcohol has loosened his inhibitions. Yoojung quickly covers his mouth, shushing him to avoid waking the entire house.

“The kids are asleep,” she whispers harshly. “You need to keep it down.”

He can’t explain why, but her scolding turns him on. The alcohol seems to also have made him incredibly horny.

“Oh yeah?” His eyebrow quirks. “Why don’t you shut me up then?” He gives her a look—that same smoldering look that makes her core tighten in response.

Her breath catches, but she hesitates, mildly aware of how close their bedroom was to his parents’ room. Besides, her fertile window wasn’t for another day or two. “We can’t—”

“Please, yeobo…”

He moves closer, lowering his head to kiss her neck. Her lips part with a soft sigh when he begins to suck on the sensitive skin there.

Yoojung’s instinct is to reach for her phone to check her fertility app, but Jin’s neediness proves too irresistible for her to wait for her body to reach the ideal basal temperature. She was hot for him now.

Jin’s hand glides past her waist. She shifts slightly, hooking her leg on his waist, giving him better access as his fingers slips between her thighs.

Trying to stay quiet intensified their senses. Jin made Yoojung come twice. The first time, she sank her teeth into his shoulder to muffle her cries. The second time, she buried her face in her pillow while he groaned into her ear, reaching his own release.

It had been a while since they’d had sex purely for pleasure. The fertility treatments and constant focus on conceiving had turned these intimate moments into more of a chore, taking away the romance and passion.

Tonight was different. They savored each other, relishing every touch and sensation. Afterward, they lay together, content and happy.

“I love you,” he murmured between kisses, “so much…”

“I love you, too,” she sighed softly before they both drifted off to sleep.

You and Hoseok lie together, bodies entwined, hands brushing over bare skin. You bask in each other's presence as time seems to stand still.

He brushes over the curve of your eyebrow with the tip of his finger, his touch sending a flutter through your chest.

"Do you ever wonder how things might have been between us?“

“Yes,“ you respond without hesitation. "It's embarrassing how often I've thought about it." A pang of guilt hits you. This admission feels unfair to Sam and your marriage, but you're only human. During arguments with him, you find yourself seeking comfort either in your children--or in thoughts of Hoseok.

”I'm not judging,” he reassures you.

Your eyes locked for a moment, and you lace your fingers with his, studying every groove and contour. Curiosity sparkled in his gaze as he asked, “What are you thinking about now?”

“That my hand fits perfectly with yours.” Something about him brings out all the cheesiness in you.

Intrigued, he leaned closer, tilting his head slightly. “Does it?”

Smiling, you brought his hand to your lips, brushing a tender kiss against his skin. The warmth from the sensation fills his chest, and without hesitation, he leans in for another kiss.

Even though you wish to stay like this all day, on his couch and wrapped up in his arms, daylight was peeking through his living window, much like the reality of the situation.

“I need to get back before Jooni wakes up looking for me,” you say with much reluctance.

At the mention of your daughter, Hoseok nods understandingly. He gives you space to disentangle yourself from him, his eyes following your bare form as you cross the room to retrieve the clothes he’d stripped off you earlier.

As you pull your top over your torso, you catch him watching your every move while you dress.

You pause, your face scrunching in amusement. “Can I help you with something?”

“Don’t mind me. I’m just enjoying the view.”

You gesture at your body. “Oh, you mean this old thing?”

“I don’t care. I love it. You’re beautiful.” He says it with so much reverence that it makes your heart flutters. You crouch down, gently stroking his cheek before kissing him.

You squeal in surprise as he grabs your waist and pulls you back onto the couch, onto his lap. You gaze down at him, taking in the sight of his tousled hair and sleepy eyes. He lies beautifully beneath you, not quite fully awake.

“Now this looks familiar…” he says playfully, his hands squeezing your thighs on either side of him. “It’s like déjà vu or something.”

You giggle at his teasing, resisting the urge to rock your hips against him. Earlier, your self-control had been far less restrained—non-existent, even. Memories flood your mind like a vivid highlight reel: echoes of pleasure-filled moans, fingertips tracing paths across sensitive skin, igniting sparks of arousal. It’s been ages since you’ve allowed yourself to be so completely swept up in the moment.

As difficult as it was to pull away from him, you find the strength. “Okay, I really, really need to go,” you murmur, suppressing a grin. You hop off him to finish dressing, then head to the bathroom to freshen up.

When you emerge, you find him sitting up. He’s pulled his bottoms on but his chest is still bare.

He raises his head, and you see a grave look on his face, worrying you.

“Hey… are you okay?” you ask, approaching him.

His gaze lingers on you—tracing your eyes, then your lips, then the curve of your cheek—as if he’s committing every feature to memory.

”What's wrong?” you ask again, growing more concerned.

“I’m scared that if you walk out that door, I won’t see you again,” he whispers. “But I know I can’t be selfish.”

Your impending divorce will undoubtedly complicate things, and you’re wary of clinging to false hope—for his sake and yours.

The reasonable thing to do is to return home, pretend last night never happened, and continue existing in your familiar reality.

After that final conversation with your dad, you decide you no longer want to merely exist—you want to truly live.

“We can afford to be selfish once in a while.” You brush your thumb across his lips, finally accepting the truth you’ve tried to escape for so long. “You’re it for me, too.”

You draw his mouth to yours and kiss him again. It feels right.

You run across the street, heart pounding furiously in your chest as you return from spending the night at Hoseok’s house. You peer through the kitchen window, checking if anyone’s awake—it seems early enough. Convinced the coast is clear, you slip in through the backyard’s side entrance to access the door that leads into the kitchen.

Unbeknownst to you, Jin enters the kitchen, coffee in hand, and settles at the counter to scroll through his emails. He’s in a fantastic mood—brought on by last night’s escapade and a hot wake-up call from Yoojung this morning.

His head whips around at the sound of the creaking door hinge. Amused, he watches you comically shut the door, trying your best to be stealthy. As you turn around, your heart leaps into your throat when you finally spot him.

“Ah! What the fu—” You clutch your chest.

“Well, good morning to you," Jin greets you, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

”Oppa...” you say carefully. You have no clue how much he's seen or how long he's been sitting there.

He can’t help but chuckle and take this opportunity to tease you. “I feel like I’ve just been transported back 15 years ago.”

You feel like a teenager again, caught sneaking around with Hoseok in the early days of your relationship.

Before you can come up with an excuse, the sound of feet shuffling announces the arrival of your children. Joobin and Jooni come down the stairs with your mom in tow.

“Mommy!” Jooni exclaims, running into your arms.

“Hi sweetie pie, good morning!” you reply, enveloping her in a warm hug.

Joobin, ever observant, asks, “Where were you? We woke up and you weren’t in the room.”

Thinking quickly, you make up a story.

“Well, uhm, I thought I heard a noise coming from the backyard, so I went downstairs to check on it.”

The kids, still curious, pepper you with more questions, but Jin comes to your rescue, deftly distracting them.

“Who wants pancakes?” he interjects.

The kids erupt in cheers, eagerly volunteering to assist their uncle in the kitchen.

You shoot Jin a grateful look, silently thanking him for the intervention. While the kids help him grab utensils and ingredients from the cupboards, your mom sidles up to you.

“Do I want to know where you’ve actually been?”

You make a beeline for the coffee machine. “It’s better you don’t,” you reply, in desperate need of caffeine.

As the pancake batter is mixed, Jin can’t resist one last playful jab. “Namjoon was right. You do get a great view of Hobi’s house from here,” he teases, leaving you to wonder how much he knows about your late-night activities across the street.

The kitchen is buzzing with morning energy when Taehyung trudges in. His hair looks like a bird's nest, and his eyes are barely open slits.

Jin couldn’t resist a little teasing. “Kids, say good morning to Uncle Tae!” he chirped.

Oblivious to their youngest uncle’s state, they shouted enthusiastically, “Good morning, samchyonie!”

Taehyung winced, his hands flying to his ears. “Heyyy kiddos…not so loud,” he croaks, his words slurring together. As he passes them to rummage through the cupboards, he plants a gentle kiss on top of each child’s head.

Jin’s trademark squeaky laugh filled the air. “Let’s keep it down, guys. Uncle Tae is hungover,” he explained, clearly enjoying the situation.

“Mommy, what’s ‘hungover’?” Jooni asks innocently.

You glared at Jin, which only made him laugh harder.

Joobin piped up, “Does that mean he’s drunk?”

Taehyung, summoning what little energy he had, corrected them. “It means I was drunk yesterday,” he says, dragging himself further into the kitchen until he finds the tea bags.

Jin couldn’t resist one more jab. “Actually, it seems like you’re still drunk right now,” he muttered under his breath.

“I heard that,” Taehyung grumbled, before turning his attention to you. “Is there any hot water ready for tea? And maybe some Tylenol or Advil?”

“Honey, did you check in my bathroom? I have plenty there,” your mom offers.

Taehyung shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m ready to go back in there yet.” The morning’s lighthearted mood shifts. Your mom’s face falls slightly, realizing he still can’t bear entering that room without thinking of your dad.

“I have some in my bag,” you offer. “Just check in my room.” Taehyung mouths his thanks and walks over to retrieve the pills from your purse.

********

Namjoon is startled awake by his phone buzzing. Groaning, he reaches for it along with his glasses. When he puts them on and sees the caller ID flashing on his lock screen, he picks up the call immediately.

“Vee?” He croaks.

“It's happening again!” her panicked voice rings out. “I'm bleeding...I’m going to lose the baby! What do I do?” she says over and over, sobbing uncontrollably.

Namjoon breaks into a cold sweat, instantly forgetting the pounding headache he woke up with. He sits up and keeps his voice even to calm her.

“Hey, listen to me. Let’s focus on your breathing, okay?” he says soothingly. “I’ll call an ambulance to the hotel, and I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

He knows it would be faster for her to go directly to the hospital rather than wait for him to pick her up.

“Do you understand?”

“I… Uh… yes...okay,” she agrees shakily, scrambling to gather her things.

“Hang in there, baby. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

She agrees with a whimper before the call ends.

As your children enjoy their breakfast, Jin and Taehyung’s playful banter continues. You can’t help but laugh at your brothers while sneaking a few bites from Joobin’s plate.

“I don’t think I can look at another bottle of whiskey again—especially those Jin-hyung concocted in his basement,” Taehyung groans as he massages his temples.

Your eyes widen at this revelation. Looks like you may have found the answer to the mystery alcohol you drank yesterday after all!

“It was not made in my basement,” Jin contests. “I partnered with a local brewer, so the casks are stored in their facility. It's artisan-level–”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Oh, excuse me–it’s a stranger’s basement whiskey then? Right, that sounds way more comforting.”

Jin puffs up indignantly. “It’s a craft spirit! There’s a difference. The process is—” he pauses, then puffs out a frustrated breath. “You know what? There’s no point in arguing with you. You’re impossible when you’re hungover.”

Taehyung grins triumphantly, taking another sip of his Bloody Mary that your mom made for him.

“Uncle TaeTae, can I try your smoothie?” Jooni wonders curiously.

Your mom shakes her head. “You don’t want that, darling. Only grown-ups who made bad decisions the night before can drink this special smoothie.”

“I’m happy to declare that I actually made some good decisions last night,” Taehyung says proudly.

Just then, you are startled by Namjoon’s heavy footsteps coming from the basement stairs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck...” he mutters repeatedly, nearly stumbling on his way to the front door.

Jin pops his head out into the hallway. “Whoa—where’s the fire?”

“It’s, uh... it’s Vee. She—I mean, the baby—the baby’s in trouble.” He’s frantically wrestling with his keys on the wall hanger until the entire thing crashes to the floor.

Taehyung rushes to help as Namjoon lets out a pained growl and buries his head in his hands in frustration.

“I don’t need to know all the details,” Taehyung says calmly. “Just tell me what I can do to help.”

“I need to go to the hospital. Now.” Namjoon answers as evenly as he can manage.

“Okay. I’ll drive—”

“You’re not going anywhere, Kim Taehyung! You just had a drink!” you scold him.

“Ah, shit,” Taehyung mutters, squeezing his eyes shut when he realizes this.

“It’s okay. I’m... I’m fine to drive. I’m fine,” Namjoon stutters.

Before Jin can volunteer, your mom appears at the foot of the stairs, wearing a coat over her pajamas. When did she even go upstairs? you all wonder.

“I’ll drive,” she announces, slipping on her sneakers by the front door.

“M-ma, I said I was okay. I can—” Namjoon’s protests are cut short as she snatches the car keys from Taehyung’s hand.

“No time to argue. Let’s go.” With determined strides, your mom marches out the front door, car keys jingling, and heads straight for her car in the driveway.

Namjoon is frozen in shock, his eyes darting between you and your brothers.

“Hello?!” Your loud voice not only jolts him back to reality but makes Taehyung and Jin flinch as well. “What are you waiting for? Go!” You practically shove his broad frame out the door.

With a grateful glance towards you and your brothers, he turns and hurries after your mom, anxious to face whatever awaits him at the hospital.

Once Namjoon arrives at the hospital, he runs toward the reception desk while his mom searches for parking.

“I’m here for Victoria Lee.”

Before the nurse searches her system, she asks, “And what is your relation to the patient?”

“I’m her, uh—” Namjoon hesitates, his breath catching. He quickly recovers, stating more firmly, “I’m her husband.” With their divorce papers still in process, this is technically and legally accurate.

The nurse eyes him suspiciously and asks for his name and identification, which Namjoon provides. Once she enters his information, she verifies that Namjoon is listed as Victoria’s emergency contact.

She hands his identification back to him. “Thank you, Mr. Kim. Just take the elevators up to the 3rd floor and she’ll be in room 9.”

Just as he utters his thanks, his mom walks through the sliding doors and they head up together to where Victoria was.

********

When Namjoon walks through the door, he sees Victoria on a slightly reclined bed. Her hospital gown is bunched up under her chest, exposing a subtle swell on her belly just below her navel.

She sees him, a mixture of shock and relief washing over her face.

“Joon!”

“Hey.” He rushes to her side and unwittingly gives her a quick peck on the lips. It catches them both by surprise. Namjoon apologizes under his breath but is interrupted by the doctor, who has just entered the room.

“Hi, are you the dad?” The doctor asks.

Namjoon nods.

“Great! I’m Dr. Yoon,” the doctor introduces himself. “You’re just in time for the ultrasound.”

“Ultrasound?” Namjoon asks, his voice laced with apprehension. The last time he looked at an ultrasound screen, it brought bad news.

“Yep,” the doctor responds. “This is going to be a little cold,” he warns Victoria before squeezing a bluish-green gel on her stomach. He turns back to grab the transducer probe off the hook, then begins to slide it over her belly. His free hand programs some settings onto the control panel until the screen comes to life.

Namjoon and Victoria hold their breaths in anticipation.

The doctor moves the probe to a different position to get another visual. It looks static from their viewpoint.

“Now, if I can just find the heartbeat, here,” the doctor mumbles.

“What if there’s no heartbeat?” she whispers shakily, eyes pooling with tears.

“Sshh,” he says, squeezing her hand gently. “Let’s not jump to conclusions yet. Give it some time.”

She begins to whimper. “I can’t believe this is happening again. What’s wrong with me?”

At that moment, Namjoon decided to reach for a white lie. “It’s all going to be fine, okay? Trust me.”

He didn’t know that for certain, of course, but the reassuring look he gave her was convincing enough to calm her down. In a way, it calmed him down too.

“Okay, let’s keep our voices down,” the doctor interrupts. “I’m having a hard time picking up anything on the monitor.”

Following the doctor’s instructions, he turns a knob on the control panel. Seconds later, a whooshing sound fills the room through the speakers. The baby’s heartbeat is strong and steady.

Namjoon and Victoria gasp in surprise and relief.

“Ah, there we go!” the doctor exclaims, pointing to the static blob wiggling on the screen.

“That’s—woah...” Namjoon stares in awe at the little bean flickering on the monitor.

“Oh my god,” Victoria whispers. She tearfully glances up at him with a small smile. It dawns on her that this is Namjoon’s first time seeing the baby’s scan.

“Wow,” he says again, completely at a loss for words.

“Music to my ears, and yours too, I’m sure,” the doctor smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. The rhythmic whooshing sound continues to fill the room and Namjoon can’t help but return the smile, feeling an unexpected rush of emotion.

The doctor carefully repositions the probe, gliding it across Victoria’s gel-covered belly with ease. His eyes remain fixed on the monitor as he meticulously checks the baby’s vital organs and physical features, occasionally pausing to take measurements or adjust the angle for a clearer view.

After a few more minutes of observation, Dr. Yoon leans back with a satisfied nod. “Spotting aside, your baby appears to be doing just fine.” Hearing this, both Namjoon and Victoria visibly relax.

The doctor presses a few more buttons and prints out several images. “Here we go,” he says, detaching the sonogram printout and handing it to them.

They take the images from the doctor and gaze fondly at the picture of their baby.

“I’ve reviewed your bloodwork,” Dr. Yoon adds, “and noticed your progesterone levels are a bit low. I can prescribe something to help with that and so we can keep you and your baby safe. Sound good?”

As the doctor continues discussing the treatment plan, the door bursts open.

“Sorry, sorry! I got here as fast as I could. The GPS—”

Jaxon’s entrance instantly shatters the joy and euphoria Namjoon had been feeling. “Ah, fuck….”

Namjoon turns to her, his anger brimming. “You called him?”

Before discovering she was bleeding, Jaxon had already planned to meet Victoria at the hotel. In the midst of the emergency, she’d texted him about going to the hospital.

“Shit—Jax,” she utters in horror then turns back to Namjoon, trying to cobble up an explanation. “I—this isn’t—”

Namjoon rises from her bedside, anger bubbling in his chest. “No, no, no,” he says, shaking his head. “I can’t do this. I don’t even know why I came here...”

“I’m sorry, what’s going on here? Who are you?” Dr. Yoon asks, pointing to Namjoon.

“I am her husband!”

“And that makes you...?” Dr. Yoon turns to Jaxon.

“The guy my wife cheated on me with,” Namjoon said through gritted teeth.

Mortified, Victoria tries to plead with him. “Joon, please. Let’s not ruin this moment—”

Namjoon is incredulous. “I’m ruining the moment?” All the warm, sentimental feelings Namjoon had after seeing the sonogram vanish, were replaced by the contempt he felt when Victoria arrived unannounced to tell him about the pregnancy.

Jaxon, oblivious to the gravity of the situation, chooses this moment to interject. “Look, man, I had no clue–”

“Un-fucking-beliveable!” Namjoon growled.

Seeing the panic and distress on his patient’s face as she tries to calm both men, Dr. Yoon intervenes. “Alright! Both of you—out—now!” he says sternly. “I can’t have my patient under this kind of stress.”

Namjoon looks at Victoria. She drops her eyes to her hands, not arguing. It takes all of his energy to rein in his anger.

This isn’t the time or place, he says to himself. Squaring his jaw, he sidesteps Jaxon on his way out the door.

********

Lina rises from her chair when Namjoon arrives in the waiting area, his face contorted with rage.

“Honey, how is she? How’s the baby?” she asks, her voice tinged with worry.

“She’s fine,” Namjoon replies curtly. “Let’s go.”

“Wha—is she stable?” His mom, confused by his behavior, tries to piece things together. “What happened?”

“Ma, please!” He snaps.

Sensing his distress, she doesn’t push further and follows him toward the exit. As they stand before the bank of elevators, a voice calls out to Namjoon.

“Namjoon! Namjoon, wait up!”

He ignores it, but his mom glances past his shoulder, recognizing the man calling out.

“I hate these fucking elevators,” Namjoon mutters as he repeatedly jams his finger on the button until the doors finally open.

“Joon, Joon—wait!”

They both hurry inside, but a hand wedges between the closing doors, forcing them apart.

Namjoon curses under his breath as Jaxon steps in, attempting conversation. “Bro, I swear, I didn’t expect you to be here. Vee and I were supposed to meet up and—”

Namjoon’s mom looks on as he seethes within the cramped space. Though he could easily silence Jaxon with his fist, he restrains himself.

When the doors open to the lobby, Namjoon pushes past Jaxon, who is right on his tail, yapping away, badgering him for a response.

“C’mon, man—I’m trying to extend an olive branch here and you’re just shitting on it. I thought we were friends, bro?”

Namjoon turns around with a menacing glare. Jaxon’s words strike a nerve in him. They had indeed been friends and artistic partners once. But Namjoon knew Jaxon’s true nature all too well. The worst part of Victoria’s infidelity was that despite his warnings about Jaxon’s toxic behavior, she still chose to betray him. It was like getting stabbed in the back with a rusty knife and twisting it repeatedly for good measure.

“Jaxon, why don’t you take the hint and stop following him,” his mom interrupts, stepping between the two men. “He clearly doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Hospital security begins to approach, drawn by the commotion.

“And who the fuck are you, lady? Barking orders here like you’re the boss of me?” Jaxon yells. In his narcissistic haze, he’s forgotten Namjoon’s mom’s face, despite having met her a few times before.

Fully aware that this is the same asswipe who contributed to her son’s marital breakdown, she cocks her head and replies coolly, “I am his mother, and you are not allowed to speak to me that way!”

“Or what?”

One thing about Lina Young: if challenged, she would most definitely would rise to it.

Without hesitation, she balls her hand into a fist and throws a punch—the large gemstone on her ring landing squarely on Jaxon’s surgically enhanced nose. He lets out a pathetic whimper, clutching his face.

Namjoon’s jaw drops, his hand flying up to cover his mouth. He barely suppresses a guffaw as he watches his mom shake out her hand while security rushes to break up the commotion.

She raises her hands as they attempt to escort her. “I can walk myself out, thank you,” she says, straightening her coat. Reverting to her usual classy demeanor, she exits the building as if she hadn’t just made a man—a whole foot taller and 30 years her junior—cry.

Namjoon bends down to pick up her watch and bracelet, which she’d dropped in the scuffle.

“You’re just going to let your mom hit me?” Jaxon shouts as nurses tend to him.

“You bet I am! She’s a good shot, too,” Namjoon retorts, laughter echoing through the doors as he follows his mom to the parking lot.

Your mom smiles warmly from her seat at the dining table, watching Jooni hand an ice pack to you.

“Thank you, my darling girl,” she says to her granddaughter, wincing as you press it against her bruised hand.

When she and Namjoon arrived home, he led her straight to the kitchen to nurse her hand. Naturally, your children asked what was wrong with halmeoni. Namjoon quickly came up a wild story about her punching a vending machine when her chocolate bar got stuck.

“Halmeoni, please be careful next time. Daddy says you’re not supposed to hit the machine if your candy gets stuck. You have to call a worker to help you,” Joobin says, showing concern for her swollen hand.

“Thank you, Joobinie. I will remember that next time,” your mom replies sweetly.

You tell them to move to the backyard and continue playing, but not before Jooni gives her hand a light kiss before running off.

Once the kids are out of earshot, you decide to get the facts. “Care to tell me what really happened?”

Namjoon relays the events from the hospital, which ended with your mom sucker-punching Jaxon.

You gasp in horror and disbelief. “Oh my god, ma?!”

“What?” she says innocently, not seeing the problem. “It's not like he didn't deserve it! Besides, I never liked that piece of shit coming to my house anyway. I knew he was trouble, so he had it coming!”

You and Namjoon stare at her wide-eyed.

She rolls her eyes at both of you. “Oh, come on! You kids didn’t get your potty mouths from your father, that’s for damn sure.”

Before you can argue, you hear Jooni yelling for you from outside. You excuse yourself to check on what the kids might be arguing about this time. On your way out, you poke Namjoon in the ribs and mouth, “Promise you’ll tell me later?”

Namjoon gives you a nod, before you run out to check on your kids.

They enjoy a few moments of silence until Namjoon, who was standing before, moves to take a seat.

“Here, let me.” He takes the ice pack from her and presses it to her hand. She smiles fondly, watching him dote on her, as it was a rare sight.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” he mumbles, peering up at her.

“You know, I used to do my own stunts back in the day,” she quips, eliciting a laugh from him. She loved seeing the dimple in his cheek deepen. It mirrored her own on the opposite side.

As they settle into a comfortable silence, the gears in Namjoon’s mind continue to spin. She removes her hand from beneath the ice pack to take off her ring, hoping to ease more of the soreness and swelling. His gaze shifts to the jewelry she sets down on the table—a solitaire emerald symbolizing his parents’ 35-year anniversary.

He recalls the day his father proudly showed him the ring before giving it to her. It was the same year she stepped back from her acting career, coinciding with his diagnosis, only known between them.

Though it seemed like an extravagant piece, his father insisted on gifting it to her. “It’s perfect,” he’d said. The ring not only represented their deep love for each other, but also symbolized growth and new beginnings—a celebration of their marriage as it truly deserved.

It made Namjoon reflect on his own marriage. “Mom?” He pauses, wondering if this is an inopportune time to talk about his thoughts.

“What is it, hun?”

He takes a deep breath, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “When you were away for work, did…” He trails off, the words catching in his throat.

She waits patiently, her eyes filled with concern. “…Yes?”

Finally, he musters the courage to continue. “Did you ever think about cheating on dad?”

Her eyes widen, clearly taken aback. “Oh…”

Immediately regretting his question, he backpedals. “Fuck, I’m sorry. That was completely out of line,” he shakes his head, mentally kicking himself. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Despite her initial shock, his mom’s expression softens as she realizes that his recent experiences with Victoria have left him questioning things.

“No, no. That’s...” She clears her throat, composing herself. “It’s a fair question. I understand why you’d ask.”

“No, it was a dumb question. I’m sorry,” Namjoon stutters, his eyes dropping to the floor in embarrassment and regret.

She regards him silently, taking in his pained expression. She thought about her answer carefully, hoping that whatever he says would help him work out his feelings.

“Well,” she begins after a few beats, “when you’re away for long stretches, fatigue and loneliness can set in. One might think that’s a recipe for disaster. But your dad and I were always open about our feelings. I think our constant communication gave us both reassurance and eased much of the loneliness we felt. So, to answer your question—no, cheating never crossed my mind.”

Namjoon found himself questioning every aspect of his relationship. For months, he replayed conversations and actions from the past year, scrutinizing them for any misstep that might have driven his wife to cheat.

“I don’t know Victoria’s reasons, and I don’t care to. You’ve made your decision, and I’m not going to complicate things further.”

He sighs wearily. As you reminded him not so long ago, he didn’t do “complicated.” He avoided the road less traveled and always stayed on course.

“Sometimes I think about the past year, replaying things in my head,“ Namjoon says, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought I was being a good husband—I provided for her, fully supported her career, and never made her feel suffocated. I showed and told her every day how much I loved her.“

He looked up at his mom, who listened to him intently as he poured his heart out.

“I can’t seem to figure out at what point she decided I wasn't enough.“

Her heart breaks watching Namjoon’s broad shoulders slump, his tall frame reduced by the weight of his frustration. She reaches up with her uninjured hand to run her fingers through her second-oldest son’s hair. It’s the first chance she’s had to console him since he revealed his divorce to the rest of the family.

“Namjoon,” she begins softly, “when you love someone long-term, it means witnessing and mourning their many versions. People change, outgrowing their old selves or dreams they once had. It’s normal to miss those old versions and wish they would stick around—because those versions made us happy. We don’t get to choose when or how they change, but we can choose to walk with them and learn to embrace whatever version they decide to be.”

Namjoon gazes at her intently. These were the kind of talks he typically had with his father.

“That sounds like something dad would say,” he says with a gentle smile.

“Oh honey, that was all me,” she says with a playful touch of pride. Turning serious once more, she adds, “Somebody who loves you unconditionally will choose to stick around for all those versions of you.”

Namjoon’s mood turns sullen, suddenly regretting all the years he felt he needed to be angry at his mother.

“I’m sorry for being unfair to you for a long time, eomma. I…” his voice wavers as he’s caught between remorse and resentment toward the women in his life.

His mother wished, at that moment, that she wasn’t dwarfed by his 6-foot-tall frame and she could pick him up and hold him like she used to when he would fall over and bruise himself.

It’s been a long time since Namjoon allowed himself to be this vulnerable in front of her. Since his teen years, he’s been closed off and aloof. But all this time, she’s waited patiently for him to let his guard down.

She cradles his cheek in her hand. “Shh…” she says soothingly. “I want you to know that I have been and will always be here for every version of you.”

He gazed at her with sad eyes. These were times when he typically relied on his father, who was always there to help Namjoon get back on track. For years, his mom had longed for the opportunity to offer that same support.

Without a second thought, she stood and wrapped him in a warm embrace. It marked a turning point in healing their own relationship.

Finding comfort in her arms, he finally lets go of all his pent-up frustration and grief.

After putting the kids to bed, things begin to settle down. Your hangover is finally beginning to dissipate.

You walk downstairs to get a drink of water when you notice the door leading to the backyard is ajar. You go to close it but pause when you see someone sitting on the deck.

You step out and join Taehyung, who looks up from his wine glass, mid-sip.

“Back for more, huh?” You nod at his drink.

He chuckles as you take a seat next to him.

“You know, I didn’t bring an unlimited supply of Advil in my purse,” you joke.

“I know, noona. This is just a little something to help me fall asleep.”

You hum skeptically. “As long as you don’t overdo it. Otherwise, you’ll have to go into mom’s medicine cabinet to get more meds for your hangover.”

He nods, giving a half-hearted smile at your remark, then continues to stare off into the distance.

You study your him for a moment. Despite him joking around today, you know him well enough to recognize when he’s masking his true feelings. It’s clear to you, based on his comment this morning about avoiding your parents’ room, that he’s grappling with something deeper than he’s letting on.

“Do you want to talk?” you ask, your voice soft and encouraging.

His shoulders tense and his gaze drifts downward as your question hangs in the air.

“I don’t know if that would help,” he says quietly.

You were all reeling from your father’s death and dealing with it in different ways, but Taehyung seemed to be taking it the hardest.

“I don’t know either, but there’s no harm in trying, right?”

He doesn’t respond, so you don’t push him. “Or I could just sit here with you until you feel sleepy.”

He chews his bottom lip, wrestling with his thoughts. Finally, he puffs out his cheeks, letting out a long sigh. “I can’t even go into his room,” he says. “I—” His voice cracks, making him curse under his breath.

His pain tears you to pieces. You rub soothing circles on his back, feeling his body tremble with each heart-wrenching sob.

“I wish I could have saved him,” he croaks, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I feel like shit for not doing anything.”

By the time you discovered your dad’s illness, it was already terminal. There was nothing any of you could have done apart from making him feel comfortable and loved during the last few moments of his life.

“We all wished we could have done something, but it was out of our hands,” you say, your eyes brimming with tears at his raw emotion.

“I just…” he choked out, “can’t believe I’m never going to see him again. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay with that.”

Coming to terms with your father’s absence would be an uphill battle. Yet, knowing him, he’d be heartbroken to know that he was the reason for your sadness.

Swallowing hard, you gathered your strength to ease your brother’s pain.

“It’s okay not to be okay,” you begin to say, “But you know, we had 30-something years with him. If we were sad all the time, it would be as if those years he gave us meant nothing. The best way to honor his memory is to try our hardest to live well and be happy. And I believe that’s what he would have wanted.”

Taehyung’s tear-filled eyes meet yours. “But that seems so impossible,” he laments softly.

The idea of moving forward and carrying on with life seems unimaginable—and admittedly, it feels that way for you, too.

From this point on, whenever you make one of your dad’s dishes or Taehyung plays one of his records, that wound will reopen, just when you think it has healed.

The pain of loss never truly goes away. There will be dark days and there will be bright days. You learn to coexist with it. Just when you think you’ve made progress, you might find yourself back at square one.

Grieving is an ongoing process and there’s no right or wrong way to do it. What makes it bearable is having people to lean on.

“And that’s when you pick up the phone and call me,” you reply ruefully, “as long as you’ll let me call you when I’m struggling.”

He nods, a hint of a smile crossing his face, as he agrees to be there for each other through the ups and downs. “Of course,” he adds softly, reaching out to give your hand a gentle squeeze.

You wrap your arm around him and pull him close. He instinctively rests his head on your shoulder. Together, you sit and stare at the starry night sky, hoping your father is looking down on you both with pride.

Tagging: @internetjunkdrawer @roaminginthenights @majamarantha @ayoo-bangtan @noelleydances @carriereadsbooks

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