#voice in the distance (that is also me): WHAT? TALK ABOUT FOOD AS ONE OF THE BASEST FORMS OF LOVE??!?!

[fisheito]

oh, why no.... we shan't... wouldns't dareth...........

[taegularities]

colour me in: seven | jjk (m)

Summary: At first, it's an argument that causes the unwanted, childish distance between Jungkook and you. And then… open blazers and a lip ring.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: est. rel.; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: an argument, cute couple-y things but also they're dorks n cringe sometimes, seven jk (incl the promo pics, laundromat hoodie bf koo, and drenched in the rain koo!!), fighting over food, they're a bit mean to each other, but they adore each other too, brief mention of a rough childhood, sexual tension, taeun being everything, kissing, dumb jokes, period and pms mention!!, a photoshoot!, subtle hints to the future of the main story :'); explicit sexual content: ahh.. making out, dirty talk, oral (f. & m. receiving), brief spanking, face-fcking, light choking, sweet and rough sex, dom jk, big dick jk, whipped simp jk, petnames, multiple orgasms, sex on the couch n on the floor? :'), he loves her a$$ and tiddies, multiple positions, cockwarming!!, mention of aftercare... the ending lol :D ➳ word count: 25k lmfaoo it's oneshot sized yall 😁 ➳ a/n: hi!! welcome back!! this is part of my series colour me in, but you can read it as a standalone-oneshot!! tysm for supporting me and encouraging me, guys, it means so so much. this is also unbeta'd, so pls go easy on me LOL. and since this was a piece of worrrrk.. come and talk to me about it, it makes my day fr fr <33 ➳ listen to: seven by jungkook | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

In hindsight, your argument was blissfully domestic after all. In hindsight, maybe even comedic.

You’ve seen these things on TV and read about them in novels; didn’t experience them growing up because your parents didn’t really fight over such harmless matters. They never needed to lift a finger in their ultramodern kitchen, filled with up-to-the-minute equipment to fill their table.

But Jungkook and you don’t rely on such luxuries. You do things for yourself. So, such a couple-y, casual life leads to couple-y, casual arguments. Requires it. Fighting is healthy; entangles two souls some more.

Which is exactly where you are now. Exactly what you’ve become: A true unit. Quarrelling over trivial, everyday things.

Just to end up folded in half, holding onto the very last of your sanity, biting back more inappropriate screams.

In regards of making up, you’re perhaps not that casual. Because he’s a relentless, brutal beast.

Wrecking you right where everything began.

Monday

The end of the day begins with a giant hole in the middle of your thoughts.

Your previously whirring brain tossed away all thoughts of advertisements and seasonal launches, vacant and dark until your senses shut down everything that wasn’t vital to survival.

Like the lights of the evening as your car passed the streetlamps. The tired faces on the pedestrian zone, the odd wrinkles in your skirt, or the scent wafting from the kitchen when you step out of your heels.

Your mind operates on reflexes and automatic movements; the ball of your palm rubs against your eyelid, realising too late that you’re probably smearing your eyeliner.

A sense of reality only truly returns when you hear a familiar voice call out your name, muffled through the walls between you.

You exit the bedroom with fingers scratching the nape of your neck, tiny steps floating over the floor and past the living room. On the coffee table, you register one or two dishes. Rice, too. Smells so good, but…

As you reach him in the kitchen, you halt at the threshold, eyes scurrying to the few pots and ladles in the sink. He’s diligent and fast; cleans up when dinner simmers. Minimal work left after the meal.

For a moment, you take in the cleanliness of the kitchen, and when your eyes move up to the man himself, you beam.

He’s wearing an apron – baby blue with little flowers and rainbows imprinted on it. His mom bequeathed him with one of her old ones, and he’s been boasting about it ever since.

You saw one with astronauts, moons and telescopes once; you might purchase it for him at some point, not least of all because it includes all the things the two of you love.

A tattooed hand pushes back his mane, messy and pointing in all directions the way it does after his showers. His fingers card through the fine tresses two more times before he turns towards you — an immediate smile, similar to yours, spreads across his face.

The tiny little dimples over the corners of his mouth distract you for a second until you see his hand at waist level, beckoning you into the kitchen and a greeting, sweet embrace.

Compared to the cold outside, his oversized, full-sleeve, white shirt offers a familiar warmth. He always smells the same, musky and fresh; not like cherry blossoms at all, but he reminds you of their softness.

Mixed with the scent of tonight’s meal, you inhale it all, wrapping your arms around him as your eyes close in exhaustion. If he wasn’t swaying you in his hold, you’d probably fall asleep, right there against his chest.

A kiss to your temple, and he asks, “Hungry?”

You’re not sure. You cuddle into the apron and whatever’s visible of his shirt, and mumble against him, “Not too much… to be honest, I was gonna shower and sleep.”

“Oh?” he wonders immediately, traces of disappointment in his voice. “But I made this for you.”

You smile again. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll eat, don’t you worry.” You take a deep breath, and then lift your head off his chest without letting go. “In all honesty. I saw the food outside and thought you had it delivered.”

“So you were gonna waste something you thought was restaurant food?”

You laugh. You’re sure you could see his rosy pout even if you weren’t looking straight at him.

“No. It just looks very good… I would’ve heated it up tomorrow. But since yours was a one-person-effort,” you pat his back in pride, watching as strands of his bangs fall back into his eyes, “we shall eat.”

“And it comes from the heart, too.”

“Right. It comes from the heart, too.”

You rub his back once, soon backing away. There isn’t much to do for you anymore, but you still grab a couple napkins, chopsticks and spoons as he carries some water into the living room.

The couch feels soft, true Heaven, when you sink into it. Your heartbeat slows down, your mind at ease; when you tilt your head, your neck cracks.

But clinking your glasses of water with someone who cherishes you enough to step back and forth in a kitchen for hours… It's a comfort that’s incredibly close to a peaceful night’s sleep.

And it’s worth the effort, too. Despite the conversation and your complaints about work, you can’t help but compliment dinner every other moment. Possibly another endearing habit you picked up from him.

But you slow down when fatigue returns bit by bit, your eye twitching when you feel a well-known tickling in it.

You’re careful of potential spices when you lift your thumb and rub your eye with the back of it, fighting the itch. For a moment, you stop chewing, and Jungkook only lifts his gaze to you when the movement against your eye continues, circling motions.

“Hey,” he says, grasping your wrist, pulling it down slowly, “that’s bad for the cornea.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s not like my cornea's been nice to me, either.”

You resume chewing, swallowing the mushy remnants of the rice. Your attention falls back to the bowl of food, and your chopsticks aimlessly poke around for a second before he asks, “Why? You okay?”

“Mhm,” you say, nodding gently. “It’s just,” you point to your eyes, chopsticks dangerously close to your face, “that eye thing. It might be an infection or something. It’s so bad today that it’s hurting my head.”

You’ve complained about the issue a couple times — back when it was just an itch, you assumed it was the dusty town, perhaps even sleep deprivation. But the itch has transformed into a relentless pain, moving up your temples and across your forehead.

“Again, yeah?” Jungkook asks, following with a tender gesture of tucking your hair back. The pad of his thumb brushes over your eyebrow. “I’ll massage your head before we go to sleep.”

You sigh in relief, tired eyelids shutting briefly as you claim, “You’re the fucking best, you know?”

“Yeah.” He delivers a nonchalant, drama-esque shrug of his shoulder. Unmistakable smirk. “I guess I do know.”

The giggles from when you started dating still remain. You remember annoying the hell out of your friends back then, high school butterflies visible through your stomachs and in your bright grins.

Jungkook’s ears would redden, a smile even in your eyes. You can imagine how irritating the honeymoon phase felt to them — not that the two of you ever snapped out of it.

Even now, you’re drowning in it.

Well, until you’re not.

Because the moment he slings his arm around you, leaning back, his plate and bowl empty, you move forwards. Place your own dishes onto the table, cuddling further into him.

Only, he seems to interpret it differently.

“Aren’t you eating anymore?”

Not the message you intended to deliver. But perhaps… he’s not wrong after all.

Because…

While the evening ended on a gentle note, much needed, you’re done with today by now. Craving a warm bed, strong arms around you. A sweet, soft sleep.

And the meal is worth a thousand culinary stars, but your appetite keeps dwindling, and hadn’t he put so much effort and affection into all this, you would’ve probably headed straight to bed.

So you answer truthfully, “I can’t eat more…”

“Hmm.” He briefly points to your portion. “You just ate half of it.”

Brief silence. It must’ve gotten late, because among the quieter traffic on the main road afar, you hear a couple nightlife bugs chirping, too.

You look between the bowl and him slowly, blinking, unsure what to say. The arm around your shoulder doesn’t match his tone, so it feels a little awkward now.

You mutter, “I’m sorry.”

Because should you force yourself to scarf all of this down now, you probably won’t be able to sleep.

But Jungkook’s hums and insecure voice are making you feel bad — you know he doesn’t mean to. It’s the puppy-doe nature, a combination of forlorn, soft eyes and pouty words.

“Ah… It’ll go bad by tomorrow, but…” he starts, but you cut in—

“Fridge?”

An immediate shake of his head, a click of his tongue. “Not with that one. I mean, we could, but it’s gonna be all dry and unpalatable in the morning, y’know?”

You don’t fully have a right to be annoyed. Neither of you does. But the day’s been irksome, work a mess, paper sheets flying around — on top of that, you finished your blister pack of birth control last Friday.

The period, probably approaching tomorrow and meddling with your busy schedule, is already putting you in a sour mood.

So the current lack of a solution doesn’t help your drooping eyelids and still partly tumultuous mind.

You push yourself forward on the couch, sighing before you suggest, “Okay. Then I’ll eat.”

“Woah,” he immediately voices, dropping his arm. He attempts to pull the bowl out of your reach, but you grip it tight, swallowing a small bite of rice. “I’m not forcing you to.”

“Yeah, but still.”

Another sigh of frustration falls out of you, your full stomach crying, but you pull the bowl to you, another bite ready between your chopsticks. But a moment later, Jungkook pushes your hand down again, every rice corn falling back to its prior place, fortunately never leaving the bowl.

Unbelieving, you shoot an aghast glare at him, to which he responds, “Don’t force it. Seriously.”

A rice corn still sticks to your lower lip, and you pull it in with the tip of your tongue. You place the warm meal back onto the table, half turning to Jungkook, voicing an irritated, “Dude!”

“You don’t have to,” he assures, but he looks clearly offended. Looks away, rubs his thigh, eyeing every object on the table before he adds quieter than before, “You know… That’s happened a couple times in the last few weeks.”

“…What did?”

“I’d cook for you and you wouldn’t finish it.”

“Babe… The last few weeks have been tiring.”

“I know,” his voice grows higher at the end of the syllable, but then calms again after a sigh. “But we refrigerated a lot of stuff, some of which I shared with Joon or Tae the next day. Or threw away.”

“Nah.” The ridiculing smirk you respond with isn’t intentional. You drop it right away, but still shake your head in disbelief, defending, “You know I eat up most of the time, especially when you cook. Just today, I can’t do more than this, okay?”

He gulps. Two fingers scratch his ear, eyes once again skimming over empty plates or remnant-filled bowls. He drops his digits back to his thighs, rubbing once more, and then puffs out a breath between rounded lips before he comes to a stand.

And then, all he does is nod; shooting a simple, “Alright.”

His tone is stern. You recognise the expression — his eyes still big, but different now. Usually filled with warm sparkles, they look pissed now. Not because of his dropping lids or the missing crinkles.

Jungkook doesn’t need to move a lot of muscles to look angry; the lack of the glimmer is just enough. 

His lips are shut, not parted as they usually are when he focuses on something like his art or cooking or cleaning up. He’s exhaling and inhaling deeply through his nose, hands working on the dishes, but the fall and rise of his chest…

“You’re mad,” you conclude.

He looks back at you, the corners of his mouth never moving. His tone remains flat as he tries to convince you, “No. All good.”

Straightening his back, he attempts to walk away, hiding away in the kitchen until you’ve fallen asleep. He and you don’t argue too much — the little, couple-y, casual fights aren’t quite fights at all.

But they do end with a short distance until one is ready to approach the other and communicate again. A good strategy to cool your minds. You wouldn’t wanna discuss such a thing right away.

This time, however, you don’t want him to leave.

You pull him back again, holding onto the cotton shirt, and he protests with a loud call of your name and furrowed eyebrows as you insist, “No, you are mad.”

Your hand pushes against the couch, your body lifting, and you look him in the eye with a frustrated crease between your eyebrows. “Kook, I just am not capable of finishing it right now. You’re making a bigger deal out of it than you sho—”

“Yeah. Okay,” he interrupts, feigning acceptance and understanding, “it’s fine.” You scoff; sometimes, he’s truly as moody as you. “Things are different here, it’s fine.”

…What?

The sentence nearly comes out as a whisper as he finally starts walking away, and you only register it when he’s halfway out of the room. He balances the dishes in both hands, and you follow him to the kitchen.

Ask, “What’s different? Where’s here?”

“I work, too, you know? I get tired, too.”

“Jungkook,” you try again, slamming the hand against the counter; the sound’s muffled by a bright green cleaning cloth. “What are you talking about, things are different here?”

“Just.” He doesn’t seem to wanna talk. Carefully, he places the empty stuff in the wash basin, working on finding containers to dump the leftovers in them. “I get tired from working in the city, too, but I guess I grew up differently.”

…Huh.

You wait.

Let him collect his thoughts until he tells you, “In the countryside, you work for food, so you get used to finishing dinner. I know people around here rely on supermarkets, and honestly, I do, too,” his shoulders rise as he shovels the tofu dish into a box, “and I guess that’s why it makes sense why it’s easier for you to leave leftovers.”

Wow. Some statements in this world you live in are genuinely unfair.

You understood each of his words and lectures perfectly, but you still voice a little, “Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not being serious.”

“Maybe.”

You blink. Then blink a couple times more. Observe as he closes the boxes and puts them in the fridge with a sigh. And you feel bad, you swear, you do. But that unnecessary turn of events…

“So what, you mean we don’t work for our food, right?” you counter, a hand on your waist. “We might do less physical labour, so that must mean we don’t appreciate what we get, yeah?”

Damn. And what if there’s more to that? What if—

“Or do you think it’s because I’ve always had enough money to not worry?”

Okay. Perhaps a long shot. He didn’t say it, but what if that’s exactly what his thought process was, too?

Your inner panic, invisible on the outside, grows when he doesn’t answer, lips firmly locked as if they didn’t just spew some crisp bullshit. You fold your arms, sucking air through your nose, and then demand, “Apologise.”

And when his eyes lift to yours, you freeze. God, they’re deadly. And his ingenuine laugh even more so as he throws back, “No, you apologise. Especially for assuming things I neither said nor thought of.”

“You were rude. I’m asking you nicely to take it back.”

“As nicely as I cooked for you. World’s in balance again, I guess!”

He throws his hands up, staring at you until he’s passed you by, eyes rolling. His nonchalant, idle movements rile you up more, and you can’t help but participate further in that odd exchange.

“You douchebag,” you call out, shutting the bedroom door as you reach inside, “I’m not a snob. I’d always finish my stuff, you can even ask the cook in my old house. He loved me because I wasn’t a picky eat—”

“Listen,” he interjects again, “I know. It's fine. I’ll sleep,” he points to the bed, “because this tired me out. Just drop it.”

“So you can drop it as you please?”

“Nah, just asking you to rest,” the first word comes out louder than he anticipated, his shrug vexed and vexing. He clears his throat. “And I’m sure you’re tired of this, too.”

You groan.

“And if I want to—”

“It’ll just escalat—”

“Dude, I—”

And once more, he showcases his annoyance when he glares at you from the other side of the bed, shutting you up, blanket already lifted. You anticipate another rude remark, a way of justification or to blurt something he doesn’t mean.

But despite his recent idiocy, you don’t deem him an asshole. Not to you, at least. Which proves right as he takes a breather, one knee hitting the mattress as he finally states—

“Let’s sleep over it, okay?”

The tone still isn’t as peaceful as it could be; you know it’s a tactic to dodge a fight. You might not be on your best domestic side tomorrow yet. But his question is final and his gaze even stricter.

So you reluctantly sigh, eyes still fiery as you breathe, “Fine.”

But it’s not fine. And the turbulent week ahead, filled with chaos for you and peak comedy to others, might just be about to prove it to you.

Tuesday

You chew on your bites until the taste turns bland.

Still distracted from last night’s exchange, you barely register the tart spicy quality of your dinner; a shame because this restaurant is your favourite place to frequent with friends.

Today, you’re toying with your cutlery, catching a glimpse of your grim reflection in the spoon every now and then. Whenever Jungkook’s elbow touches yours, your heart skips a bit, bleeding as much as your eyes want to water.

With how he’s smiling at your friends, appetite never faltering, you could burst into tears — because somewhere inside, you miss him despite the constant proximity.

Perhaps he does, too.

Because you notice when he drifts closer on purpose, casually putting his hand over yours. Seemingly lost in conversations, he rubs his thumb against the soft back of your hand; but when you look at him, you can’t muster a smile just yet.

It’s your ego, your stubbornness. Pieces of you want to stay pissed. You keep your cool, but try to avert your eyes whenever possible.

And when you, obstinate as last night, pull your hand from under his, you register the defeated sigh.

But instead of starting a new topic, he retracts his fingers, putting his arm on his table as he busies his other digits with his meal. When you dare a glance, the pretty curves of his blooming lips tug upwards, listening to Taehyung’s story.

Either hiding the discomfort between you or not feeling it.

Odd, because he’s your constant centre of attention.

“Yeah, I mean. Every job is stressful, you know? But it’s wholesome, too,” Taehyung narrates. You blink the silent pining away, and focus. “Like, one of my patients is an elderly man, a lot weaker than his wife. And she always comes with him, every single time.”

“She just waits for him the entire time?” Jungkook asks.

Next to Taehyung, Eun nods; she’s probably heard the story before.

“I mean, she entertains us, is more like it,” Taehyung explains. “He’s been getting geriatric physiotherapy to regain some strength, so he needs all the motivation he can get. And those two are such… dorks. They bicker all the time.”

You smile. Reminds you of when Jungkook and you first met. Persistent, pointless rivalry.

Perhaps Eun hasn’t heard all of this after all. Because as she cuts her dinner, she asks before stuffing her mouth with a bite, “How so?”

“Like. She’ll tell him to not be a baby and take that last step during gait training.”

From your right, Jungkook’s laugh reverberates like a melody from above, sickeningly sweet and amused. “Sounds like me and you at the gym, doesn’t it?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, flicking away stray hair with his forefinger, “Yeah, only because you can lift weights that’d break my arms.”

Another chuckle from the side. Even you smile a little.

Your man is strong, alright — and you’ve always admired it, experienced it a couple dozen times.

You’ve yet to see him work out at a proper gym; the home workout sessions barely count.

Ugh. The violent heartbeat beneath your chest picks up on pace again, and you take a deep breath to calm it just a little.

“Anyway,” Taehyung continues, “then she’ll tease him how the neighbour downstairs has much more flexible legs than he does and he’ll argue how she should’ve married him… and then she tells him that she would’ve if she didn’t love his old ass so much.”

When you giggle, covering your chewing mouth behind your hand, he adds, “I swear! It’s the most standard old couple banter if I’ve ever seen one. Thought that stuff only happens on TV.”

Eun, still busy with the remnants of her meal, doesn’t look up but asks, “So they joke around like that? They don’t get mad at each other or anything?”

“They act like they do. Not a sliver of jealousy or anger in them, though. Insane… and adorable. I guess when you’re married long enough, that’s how relationships turn out. And they should, too, you know?”

Hmm…

You side-eye Jungkook for just a moment, but don’t say anything.

You don’t know what’s written in your future. No clue whether he’s a permanent presence in it, a firm part of your fate or not; you strongly hope for an eternity.

You want to picture him and you grey and old. Wrinkled hands, adorned with blue veins holding each other. Weak smiles and crinkles around his eyes, hidden behind glasses, ever-present.

If he’s your future, you hope to laugh about such fights one day. Hope to let people wonder whether you’re actually furious with each other, veiling unbridled affection behind snarky remarks.

Just… right now, you can’t laugh about it just yet. You still feel oddly offended by his words last night, and it doesn’t help when tonight seems to drift towards a similar ending.

Because as you ask for the bill at the end, Jungkook still pays. You don’t think about it too hard, letting him do, staying seated to finish your drinks.

But your exhaustion reaches a new, entirely unnecessary peak when he starts cracking his fingers. On any other day, you’d put a hand over his, reminding him not to and move on.

Today, you’re in a bad mood, and your demands come out accordingly piqued.

“Stop it.”

“Hm?” he voices, looking at you, the warm light of the restaurant reflecting in his dark brown eyes.

“This,” you point to his fingers, “stop that.”

“Why?”

“Because you know it makes me cringe. A bit annoying.”

Eun, still unaware of the tension between him and you, shrugs her shoulders, “I know that irks a lot of people, but I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Because you do it, too,” Taehyung complains; she mocks him with a sly smirk and a quiet, Yeah, yeah. He adds, “I can’t stand it, either.”

You lift an open palm towards him, nodding, “So you understand.”

“I’ve seen you do it, too,” Eun argues with a light push against his shoulder, “multiple times!”

“But not as often as you. You start and do not stop.”

You immediately agree, “He’s just like that, too!”

To which Jungkook interjects, his voice still calm; but you still hear the growing aggravation in his voice when he starts, “Honestly, I—”

“He actually has a couple habits that are just—”

You blow a raspberry.

Your interruption triggers Jungkook. And your words, admittedly not quite the sweetest, don’t sit well with him, either, because a moment later, he’s leaning forwards again. Looking at you directly before he continues his irritating bone-cracking.

You grit your teeth and repeat, “Stop that.”

“What?” he shoots back. You flinch. “A habit you despise so much, yeah? I don’t get the same intense reaction when I do something nice for you.”

So untrue.

Fucking hell. He’s talking about yesterday again.

You exhale through your nose, possibly resembling a bull ready to attack; Taehyung and Eun shrink in front of you, grimacing at each other. You’d laugh if it wasn’t you trapped in that exasperating back and forth of exchanges.

“Oops,” Eun whispers, yet overshadowed by your words as you defend, “That’s not true.”

“Maybe,” Jungkook says, shrugging a shoulder with an outrageous smirk, “but you never get that angry when I crack them at home.”

“I just don’t say it.”

“Oh? What else do you not say, hm?”

Taehyung dares an attempt, “Guys.”

But you’re too heated, a little stupid, very ridiculous as you spit, “Like, how irritating it is that you smack your lips every other second.”

Jungkook puffs out a breath. Looks to the side, straight into Eun’s direction who sinks a little more. He curls his lower lip in, running his tongue over it, jaw clenched and sharp. If you weren’t so focused on your temper, you’d find it scorching hot.

In a harmless little fight, you’d keep annoying him until he lost it eventually, mounting you and shutting you up in the very tempting Jungkook-esque way he knows.

But not here, not right now.

Instead, he fucks you up further as he sneers, “Right.”

“Or,” you continue, “that you don’t clean up your working space after painting.”

“What?” He furrows his thick eyebrows, ignoring Taehyung’s call of Jungkook’s name. “I mean. You have all your documents scattered on the desk. I might need it, too, y’know?”

“Why don’t you say it then?” you ask, tilting your head with one cocked eyebrow of yours.

“‘Cause I wanna let you work? ‘Cause it’s important for me that you’re able to focus?” He looks away again, tutting; his shoulder moves with his deriding laugh as he mumbles, “The fuck, really.”

Somewhere inside, you feel bad. You know his words are true. But you can’t tell him yet; so you just glare at him.

As silence finally falls upon you, Eun moves towards the table again, glancing between the two of you as she wonders, “What’s wrong with you guys?”

Everything.

“Nothing,” you say.

“…You wanna go?”

You wait. Jungkook doesn’t answer. Looks to the ground. When you don’t respond either, his eyes lift to yours, still big but not as enthusiastic as usual. Intimidating even.

You stay still, so he only voices, “Uh-huh.”

And the couple, enduring your awkward moment, lets you go gladly. You pack up, finishing your drink, and when you leave your table, you notice just how many people were staring at you.

Still are.

You really embarrassed yourself in front of a crowd, huh?

As the daughter of rich parents, owning a huge ass clothing brand, this isn’t something you should’ve done. But you pray and hope that you won’t wake up to a headline, or that journalists won’t interpret your little feud as a reason to break up or some nonsense like that.

Trouble in Heaven, they’d call it. Predictable little cockroaches.

You trudge past the customers with a deep breath in; Jungkook doesn’t seem to care much, because he walks ahead, hands in the pockets of his linen cotton slacks. Doesn’t look around.

Only bids Taehyung and Eun goodbye; tells you to buckle up when the two of you get in your car; curses once or twice when he misses the green light by a second.

And when you’re at home, sighing as the night approaches its end, you shake your head. Unbelievable whatever transpired back at that place. And you thought you were warming up to each other again.

Guess it’s your fault this time.

Which is why you hum when he calls your name, watching you put on your nightwear; bed ready while you still need to take off your makeup.

His question baffles you; more so with the slightly irate tone.

“Will you still give me a good night’s kiss or?”

You roll your eyes. Don’t say anything; grab your skincare products before you get to work.

He sighs once more; you see the shake of his head before you disappear into the bathroom, hear him say, “Whatever.”

But when you come out with a light rosy scent on your skin and jump under your blanket, you still shift towards his slowly drifting body. His arm under his head, eyes closed, lower lip pouting that you target carefully and—

Press the lightest kiss against.

Immediately, you turn around. Imitate his position.

He doesn’t reach out to you as he usually does, pulling you into his arms. But you still feel the petal-soft brush of tender fingers against your arm before the touch retracts again — and eventually, you fall asleep.

WEDNESDAY

The only reason Jungkook accompanied you to the laundromat is because your clothes gathered into a huge mountain. Neglecting your responsibilities at home, you brought two bags, and he insisted on helping you out.

It's late afternoon. Work tired you out, dinner is still pending; you don’t want to be here. And the place is empty; a yawning void. Just you, alone with your tank-top and grey-blue zip up hoodie clad, messy-haired boyfriend.

The retro plastic laundromat seats tired him out, so he’s standing at the far back. His eyes follow the tossing and turning of the clothes in the washing machine, and sometimes, they trail back to you.

And you — you’re sitting in a corner, arms folded, still uncertain whether you should wait for an apology or opt for one yourself.

The distance is childish. You’re way more mature than that.

But your fight is childish, too, and you guess sometimes, even healthy couples fall back into kindergarten routines.

Once the clothes are done and dry, the journey back home approaching, he helps you out. Tramps to you, mutters a little, “Gimme. I’ll take this.”

The bag strap drags his hoodie off his shoulder a little, revealing the flowery tattoo. He doesn’t fix it; lost in thoughts and silent until home. As if he wants to say something, but doesn’t.

In the apartment, he asks, “Dinner or takeout?”

And you, learning and indisputably craving his affection in any shape or form, answer, “We can make dinner.”

“I’ll do it. Get some rest.”

You sigh in relief. There’s solace in your gratitude — today was arduous, much like the preceding days of this week. You bide your time until he’s done, and then help him set the table and clean the kitchen.

The evening passes without any hostility, but ends without many gestures of fondness, too.

THURSDAY

“You don’t need to come, too. I bet you’ve other stuff to do.”

Jungkook adjusts to your steps. He snatched a jacket way too insufficient for the frosty weather, but he won’t hurry if you don’t. Doesn’t stray from your side.

So you walk faster. Then he does, too.

He rubs his nose, shrugs a shoulder and responds, “I’ve nothing much to do today, really.”

“Yeah, but,” you pull at the sleeves of his jacket, urging him to rush through the wind, “you’ll get bored. And I’m a big girl.”

“I know that. But it’ll be fine. Wanna make sure you’re okay, too.”

He nudges your elbow. You can’t pinpoint whether he’s daring an attempt to set things right or is genuinely concerned. Or both. In some way, the tension between you lingers, and you can’t shake off the awkward feeling just yet.

So you only nod, holding off an answer for a moment. Staring ahead, you listen to the soft sounds of the city, blinded by headlights soon passing you by. A bit longer and the first snow will fall.

The consoling feeling of winter days draws closer, feels warm despite the frigid wind. Hot chocolatesque. There’s just something about wool shawls and warm jackets and old, animated Christmas movies.

One thing you miss about living in your parents’ big, fancy house in your very old neighbourhood is the chimney. The soft yellow and orange of the crackling fire, melting the cold over your skin.

Sometimes you’d sit on the fleecy white carpet, protected by a thick, warm turtleneck sweater, watching the dancing flames.

You wonder again — if Jungkook and you are truly written in the stars as one, will you move into a bigger place one day? Save money and expand the comfort of the current apartment, investing in even more soothing walls with a couple little additions.

Not the lush, exaggerated luxury you grew up with. Not necessarily anything snobby.

But casual, domestic things, like a fire side you can sit in front of, drinking tea, slow dancing and giggling in the dark. Lit by the chimney fire; familiarity.

You sigh.

“It’s been long since I went to the dentist, too,” Jungkook then says, and you hum. That’s sudden.

“You should go then.”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes darting from your face to your hands. You unintentionally bury them in the pockets of your jacket the moment he reaches out for you; and when he understands that you didn’t notice, he curls his fingers into fists. “Maybe I can get an appointment now? Do they take walk-ins?”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I don’t know.” Then, upon realisation, you laugh a little and say, “I’m not going to the dentist.”

“What?”

“What?” You stare back with eyes as big as his. “Optometrist, Koo.”

His raised eyelids are nothing new. He’s attentive when it comes to you; recognises, notices and remembers every little thing. But you guess he truly has been tired, too.

And you feel bad for not considering it as much as he considered it. The reason he cooked for you in the first place, right?

You press your lips into a line, stare down to a puddle on the ground; an aftermath of the rain.

“Oh,” he makes, “why did I think we were going to— Sorry. My bad.”

In actuality, you did wonder if he knew. He didn’t ask questions when you told him you were leaving; simply announced he was going with. You were pulling socks over your ankles as his rushing form scurried across the room.

You guessed he’d figured it out. But the fact that he was ready to accompany you without a certain clue where you were heading makes you a little giddy.

Clearing your throat, you clarify, “No worries. It’s about that pain in my eyes. Remember?”

You wouldn’t be mad if he didn’t. Preceding your fight by perhaps a couple minutes, you don’t think the tiny statement still holds any relevance to him anymore.

Right?

Wrong.

“Yeah,” he answers, “yeah, of course. You thought it was an infection.”

“Mhm,” you hum, ignoring the butterfly wing slamming against your insides, “I’m so sure it’s an infection.” You click your tongue. “Itch first, and now it gives me migraines.”

“Yeah, you told me… But. It’s nothing serious, I just know.”

You look at his sculpted side profile.

You know him. Jungkook doesn’t actually know, of course — that’s not why he’s saying that he does.

But because hope is better than pure uncertainty; and he likes trying to manifest. He believes in little miracles like this. Knocks on wood a lot, tries not to voice potential disasters in case they might actually roll around.

So you take the reassurance. Walk to the clinic in silence. Attempt more small talk in the waiting room until they drench your corneas in those odd, blinding eye drops, dilating your pupils.

The brief, quick tests follow; the assistant is young and gentle, and you try your best to be a good patient. She seems to enjoy your temporarily formal behaviour, perfected in the years you grew to be a reputable heir.

You drop it once you’re in the waiting room again, awaiting the final consultation and results.

Jungkook is a restless companion. No matter how irritating, you’re used to the constant swaying and the movements of his legs. One might think he is anxious for you, eyes locking on the head doc’s office door every now and then.

Yet, he wonders, “Are you nervous?”

“Nervous?” you repeat, breathing out a tiny, amused laugh. “Nah. He’s really nice. And it’s just some eye stuff.”

“Well, eyes are important.”

The words come out quickly, but the last syllable dies gradually.

You smile.

Jungkook sometimes reminisces about a time when he’d hide from relatives or eat lunch at the back of class back in elementary school. He tires out the term introvertness, and you repeatedly retort with a certain ambivertness.

At times, he’s loud, flirty, annoying and confident — gives you a hard time believing that he ever averted a girl’s gaze or hid behind his cousins.

But then… there are moments when you see it.

Like now.

The puffy cheeks, the youthful pout, the big, big eyes flashing to the ground. Unsure what to say, unsure what you’re thinking of him.

Until he gulps, keeping his voice quiet and low as he continues, “Have you ever had a private optometrist?”

Huh. Not a question you expected. You guess starting the week with a discussion about wealth makes him think of such things these days.

“Yeah,” you say, shifting in your seat. You can still not see him clearly; his features are blurry, and you squint. “When I was younger. Big, bright places and top notch equipment.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I mean… It's not like usually used equipment, like here, is any worse than theirs. Also, same reason as why I went to a public college. Normalcy, I guess.”

“Odd.”

“…Why?”

“Because,” he draws a sharp breath, staring ahead. “Despite all the normalcy, you’re as extraordinary as can get. Money or not.”

A heartbeat passes. Among the sounds of the quiet chatter around you and the ads in the TV at lowest volume, your breath mingles with the hushed noises like a whisper.

His slowly blinking eyes are genuine, your reflection in his dark brown orbs clear. White dots sparkle like constellations in the sky, bright and plenty. It’s nice that they remind you of the sentimentality in his heart after every single serious or dumb, big or small fight.

For a moment, you keep looking. Your fingers twitch, urging to reach out, but as they start moving off your knee, you hear a call of your name.

Jungkook leans back, clearing his throat, smiles at you as you get to your feet and meet the doctor’s stare, kindly gesturing inside the examination room.

A couple more tests, a friendly conversation, more orders from his side before he gives you a diagnosis and a prescription. 

And when you head out, Jungkook’s still sitting right where you left him. One leg restless again, leaning forwards, arms on his thighs and hands intertwined. His head is hanging between his shoulders; even from afar, you see his lashes move, eyes slowly blinking.

You can’t quite explain it, but you love this point of view — when you can see his parted lips, the lower one pillowy, partly hidden behind his button nose. Cheeks round. You truly do love this watching-from-above-angle.

Even though it clearly suggests he’s bored out of his mind. Beyond done with this place, but still here, waiting for you.

You clutch the strap of your bag again, sighing, and then move towards him with light steps. The back of your fingers reaches out then, brushing against his temple a tiny moment before he detects your shoes and looks up.

“Oh. That was fast,” he says; his eyes are drooping. He had a long morning in the attic. “What did he say?”

He gets off the seat, moving his stiff neck and cracking it a little, hand flashing up to his shoulder. You explain, “I need eye drops. Two to three times a day.”

“Ah. Then we could get them right now.”

You nod, allowing a little smile, telling him as you head out, “My eyes are okay, though. Somehow, my vision has improved, too.”

Jungkook’s lips form an excited Oh, but when he sees your expression, he says, “But you seem bummed about it.”

Ah. Well.

You feel ungrateful thinking that way, but…

“In some way?” you admit. “I’d rather have an infection that can be fixed with antibiotics and won’t come back so easily instead of… you know. Having to constantly rely on eye drops. It just sounds so permanent.”

Another deep sigh; you’re exhausted as well. “And I’ll have to remember to use them.”

“Hmm,” he voices, holding the door open for you. He zips his jacket close as you step out; an immediate breath cloud forming when he exhales. “Set an alarm, yeah?”

“Yeah. Just knowing myself…”

“I’ll remind you then.”

The suggestion is immediate, albeit accompanied by a seemingly nonchalant shrug of his shoulder; jacket’s sleeves adorably pulled over his hands.

“Once in the morning. You set an alarm for lunch and then I remind you again when you take your birth control pill at night. Yeah?”

The bitter feeling of the fight vanishes a little; you try to ignore the residual awkwardness, apologies probably still due. But right now, your conversation follows a different path, so you settle on a soft, little, “Thank you, Kook.”

He always does that. Remind you of your meds.

Your vitamins, your pills, that one nose spray hydrating your nose flora to prevent your mucosa from drying out or whatever your ENT doc told you. He did last night, too.

He always does — even if it means forgetting about his own responsibilities.

You blink a couple times, rubbing your eyelids before you admit, “Still hurts. Can barely see… and the streetlamps are so bright?”

“Lemme look.”

He stops in his tracks and you follow; his hand catches your wrist, pulling your fingers away from your eyes, and you turn to him slowly. You’re still attempting to clear your vision, so he orders, “Stop blinking.”

And once you do, he moves in. Takes your face in his already warm hands, staring, squinting, humming. He looks focused, and you raise your eyebrows, waiting for a conclusion until he finally mutters, “Damn.”

“What?”

He seems impressed. Looks a bit longer. You repeat, “What? Are they red? Swollen or something?”

“Nah,” he lets your face go, already stepping back as if dodging your proximity. “But,” he starts; you stare like a puppy, only breaking when he adds, “they’re pretty as fuck.”

Your playful punch rises as if on instinct.

One part of your relationship that never changed was your bicker, starting with annoyance and morphing into frisky, flirty remarks. You consider it the foundation of what makes the two of you a unit.

You grit your teeth, but can’t bite back the smile.

“Dude,” you scold, and he covers his arm instinctively, evading the punch looming over him.

But you don’t deliver it after all, dropping your hand, shaking your head instead. You say, “If you hadn’t helped me survive today, I’d—”

You steer towards him, attempting another scare, and he plays along with a flinch just before he starts laughing again. Hums and nods emphasise his words when he agrees, “You survived like a true champ. A big girl, you said, right?”

“Sure am.”

“Mhm. …My big girl?”

“Gross. Shut up.”

The atmosphere will stay odd for a while. That’s okay, you guess. At least it allows for a bit of amusement, hard to hide as you smile a little, bite your lip.

You lower your head, veiling your beam behind your hair, but you know he sees. Matches your smile — perhaps even a bit brighter than your own.

FRIDAY

The fast approaching weekend usually eases a week’s tension. But considering the mounting workload you tackled today and the endless Saturday you’ll be dealing with very soon, your muscles don’t relax just yet.

Imprisoned behind the bars of work, your thoughts circle around the schedule for tomorrow. In that sense, you come home late and can’t quite bother with the stress that spread throughout the first half of the week.

Jungkook already scarfed down tonight’s dinner, comfortably laying in bed and balancing the laptop on his stomach. From the sound of it, he’s watching videos of various genres.

Sitting on the living room couch and indulging in a short story for just a bit, you hear the enthusiastic voices of chefs rattling down recipes every now and then. It’s a hobby of his, but you can’t help but feel bad.

He studies those YouTube videos to improve his cooking skills, and you, ungratefully, leave the rest of his effort in the goddamn fridge. You sigh.

If you had the energy and will to talk it out, you’d do it now. You couldn’t all day.

He was still asleep when you left, and after work, you went to a brief dinner with a coworker to dash through details for tomorrow. Looking at the plan, you hope for at least a sliver of fun amidst the photoshoot chaos.

When you returned home, Jungkook was gaming right where you’re sitting now. You showered, only to find him back in the bedroom, with his eyes glued to said laptop. And now, as you approach the bed to end the night, he walks past you with falling eyelids.

He rubs them with the back of his tattooed hand, a tired pout on his face contradicting the seemingly badass image that the ink usually gives him. Hard shell, soft core and all.

“Be right ba—,” Jungkook’s hazy voice informs, last syllable broken by a yawn. “Go to bed, okay?”

His palm moves across your upper arm as he passes you by, and you nod, steering towards the inviting, warm mattress. Its surface melts with your body when you drop. God, you’re exhausted; can barely think.

You don’t think it’ll take you particularly long to drift away; and just when your consciousness slips, you feel an arm around you.

A soft hug, enveloping you. He drops his face to yours, lips gently pressing against your cheek for a moment before he adjusts the blanket over the two of you.

A current of warmth courses through your veins, and you draw a deep, long breath of affection when he cuddles into you. He must be thinking you’re asleep but slowly falling out of dreams, because he pulls you in and rubs your arm.

An effective tactic he usually wields to help you fall asleep. 

He puts a leg gently over yours, his body so close to yours that you feel bits of the combustion of your heart.

Because…

Despite your stupid feud, you’re kind of happy that he’s joined you under the thin blanket, pressing more featherlight kisses against your scalp. Sighs against it.

And you can’t withhold the smile when he brushes over your clothed tummy and whispers, “My feisty little girl.” 

SATURDAY

You remember to unclench your jaw.

The stress hardens your muscles. Your limbs are stiff, eyes unblinking until they dry out. Fingers wrapped around your phone, you hold the device firmly, shutting out the telling vibrations of notifications.

This cannot be.

There are a hundred fires burning around you. Erupted chaos causes panic, and in the middle of it are you, clueless and vexed beyond measure.

It’s one thing cancelling a shoot a couple days before it takes place — and another thing to call sick at the very last moment. You didn’t think the model would ditch you like this… but now that he has, you can’t figure out how to replace the missing piece of the shoot.

Your troubled co-workers call out a dozen names, but you don’t say a word, gazing around with a crease between your eyebrows.

This whole thing needs to be out in the open by Friday, and the photographers and editors need time. So, postponing this to Monday and the release of the ads to another weekend won’t work, right?

No.

You’re at the headquarters of this brand. And you’re one of the organisers of this shoot and project. Every single shop will need to postpone if you do.

Unprofessional. Goes against the schedule.

The complaints are still on full blast when you see a calm movement from the corner of your eye. You move your head to the left, peeking through the glass door, and on the other side awaits—

A wide-eyed man, staring inside, observing the tumult like he’s stepped into the jungle. He’s wearing a white shirt, tucked into jeans, long bangs hanging into his eyes and enhancing the sweet gaze so wonderfully.

Pieces of your stress melts — but you still can’t figure out why he’s standing there.

You walk to the door automatically, throwing a tiny smile when he detects you among the staff. A big hand waves in tiny, and you open to let him in.

“Hey,” you greet, pushing back to where you stood before. He follows. “What are you doing here?”

As you come to a stand, he puts a hand on your waist lightly, drawing close to press a kiss to your temple. Then, he responds, “Picking you up?”

“Wh—”

Oh. Shit.

You were going to go out and celebrate the end of the stressful week. He’d suggested it last weekend because he already knew how hectic today would be.

Ughhhh.

You’re terrible.

Jungkook realises your forgetfulness the moment your expression changes into a guilty one. His curious, innocent look drops with his eyebrows, and he sighs when you say, “I’m sorry, Kook.”

When he stares down at his shoes, you feel a wave of shame; the noise around you fades for just a second as he half sullenly, half disappointedly asks, “Really?”

“I swear… It’s not my fault.”

It’s not an excuse; not a lie.

He looks disheartened; knowing him, stupid argument or not, he was probably looking forward to this. Fuck, you feel bad.

Despite his obvious drop in mood, he doesn’t say anything much. Instead, he nods and assures, “It’s fine. What happened?”

You look around again. From afar, you see a coworker approach. She looks hopeful and you take the crumbs, but you still explain, “Everything should be done by now. We got most of the pictures, but… one of the guys bailed on us.”

“Shit, really? What now?”

You shrug your shoulders, once again racking your brain for a solution. People here are counting on you, but it’s not you who brings the very first somewhat reasonable suggestion of today.

Only somewhat reasonable, though.

Because the coworker approaching ogles at Jungkook like a pirate at a treasure, pupils big and wondering as she suddenly says, “Hold. Did you come up with that?”

You blink.

Then ask, “What?”

“You called him here?”

“What?” you repeat, a confused, little parrott.

She rolls her eyes, “He,” she points at Jungkook with a thumb, “is not allowed in here. Usually. So I assumed you called him as a replacement.” She tilts her head. “And he’s freaking perfect!”

Per—

What? No, no, no. That’s absolutely nothing you planned or permitted.

“No?” Instinctively, you take a step to the side, right in front of his broad shoulders as if to protect him from harm. You argue, “He’s not a model. He’s an artist.”

From behind, you hear, “I’m just an artist.”

“Yeah, but,” she throws back, “you’re art, too. I won’t lie.”

Another step back until your back almost touches his chest. His fingertips graze your hip, as a warning before you stumble over his feet. You can imagine the subtle rosy dust on his cheek; he’s fond of compliments.

As everyone is, you suppose. But. 

“Hey, careful,” you tell her, disguising it as a joke, but feeling the lightest burn in your stomach when he laughs at her words.

She raises her pretty lips to a prettier smile, nodding in reassurance as she promises, “Yes, I know he’s taken.”

Another quiet chuckle from behind you, and you cock an eyebrow before he changes the topic and admits, “Seriously, I’m not a model at all and barely know what these things are like…”

To which she waves off his concerns and explains, “Oh, you just need to look good. We’d put some make up and clothes on you, a few pics and we’re done.”

Sounds easy enough. A bit like an insult to actual models, kind of putting those to shame who ran across stages for years to study, internalise and perfect their movements.

But you don’t correct her because you’re desperate, too. And right now, this sounds the easiest.

Still, he murmurs, “I’m not sure.”

“I understand if not,” she says. Her tone changes, fragments of frustration in it. “It’s just that we’re running out of options.”

Once more, you play out the upcoming week mentally. Postponing the last shoot. Postponing the release. Postponing the seasonal launch.

None of this is your fault, but you’d still be the one to get all the wary looks.

As if on cue, Jungkook squeezes your hip, and you look at him with worry painted across your face. You know he sees it immediately, but he still asks, “Is it that bad?”

You nibble at your lip, putting a hand over his as you say, “Yeah. We do need someone.”

“Is that allowed? Can I just replace a guy?”

“I’m technically the boss here, so you’d just need my permission,” you take a breath and then click your tongue, “I mean, usually we’d just reschedule, but we don’t have the time and those shoots already take hours. And in your case, we’d do all the paperwork, contract stuff later.”

“Would it help you?”

He’s considerate. Even in a stressful moment like this, the gentle tone, the deep care makes you weak. The answer’s already clear, but you still tell him, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Again, it… might take up to two hours or so.”

“But it’d help you, babe, wouldn’t it? Unless you don’t want me to. Then I won’t.”

You don’t have a single problem with this; in fact, you’d be happy to put him in front of a camera. His genuine thoughtfulness liquefies you — you’re a puddle at this point.

“Oh, I… Jungko—”

Juri intrudes, “I’m sorry,” carefully, she inches closer, nodding over her shoulder, “Just wanna say that we have a lot of designers in our team. They do logos and make the posters and all. Maybe, if they saw you — because the country already knows you as her artistic man from newspapers — they could teach you some digital art stuff.”

“I…” Jungkook starts. He’s probably thinking the same — which he confirms when he adds, “I’m not sure how me modelling for you might relate to artistic stuff. But I already know a lot about digital art.”

Yeah, exactly. Of course he does; what else did he wade through college for throughout these years?

“But,” she lifts a finger, infinite force in one word already, “have you ever tried expensive equipment and all?”

Oh oh. You feel bad.

Is that the group of society you represent? Maybe you guys are a little pretentious after all, dealing and seducing with money.

But he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t dare to challenge her when he steps next to you and says, “I can do it, but not for that digital art offer.” He puts a hand on your back, rubbing lightly and briefly, “For her.”

You fold your arms under your chest; less to show dominance, but more to press against the butterflies. There’s a type of nausea falling in love elicits, deep in your stomach where everything appears so surreal and beautiful that it makes you oddly sick.

The first time your pupils took on their heart shape was the first moment Jungkook practised that effect on you; made you realise what inevitable emotions he was pulling you into.

That effect has not faltered; your guts still twist.

At least, for a couple minutes.

Because the second your coworker-vultures attack him and drag him to the back room, something changes. Nervousness, you guess. You know the clothes that are awaiting him, but stepping out of makeup and into the spotlight leaves you gasping for air.

From afar, he’s leering at you.

Wearing a snow white shirt, tucked into his pants, priorly tousled hair still messy but styled in curls. Yes, you might know your collection — but you didn’t think it’d fit him like second skin.

Why did you doubt it, though? Jungkook could wear a trash bag and still compete against Adonis.

For a moment, he stands still, entangling his fingers, looking around. Then, he’s smiling in uncertainty, awkwardly putting his hands on his tiny waist, waiting for directions.

Juri tip-toes towards you, as if you’re filming a scene in a drama. She pulls the clipboard to her chest, one digit pointing to your struggling man before she says, “He’s adorable.”

You nod. “I wonder how he’ll do.”

“Well, yeah,” she murmurs, half distracted; but then she averts her eyes from him, looking from your nervous lips up to your furrowed eyebrows before she assures, “Worst case scenario, we’ll postpone. End of story. At least we tried.”

“Hmm… Well, let’s hope it won’t be that case.”

Which, you soon realise, it certainly isn’t.

A couple professional suggestions by the director and Jungkook gets into position. The initial movements of his hands and body are a little strange and awkward, and you can’t help but want to pull him from this chaos and wrap him in a fuzzy blanket.

But the seemingly feigned adorable stance soon shifts into something unexpectedly dangerous when he raises his chin. Thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, he relaxes his body, lips suddenly forming a tempting, slight pout.

He doesn’t usually look like that…

“Wow,” you whisper, faintly registering Juri’s fascinated nod from the side.

This is still a harmless pose, you think; one the director dared him to do. But you’re surprised by the sudden confidence, the way Jungkook doesn’t fumble or stutter or question anything.

Some of his softness shines through the moment the photographer gives a thumbs up, a tattooed hand cracking the fingers of the others. Doe eyes back, he leans forwards as if he could peek at the pictures like that, asking cautiously, “That okay?”

He looks different. Why does he look different?

“That was great! Perfect start. I promise the rest is just as easy,” the team encourages him, asking him to monitor the pictures they just took.

Jungkook walks to the strangers in slow steps, chest behind the tight, white top heaving once. On his way, he looks up to you instinctively, throwing the same thumbs up at you with a questioning gaze.

And you, still baffled, smile.

Watch as he converses with the people, his grin wide when he likes what he sees — an instant confidence boost, though you still see the nervousness in his stance. Where was any of it when they clicked the photos?

As if a demon possessed him for just a minute. Dual and dangerous.

Then again, he’s not very different in your daily life. A celestial soul on some days, catering to your every whim, never letting your feet touch the ground.

And a beast on others, inhaling your sounds like a starving incubus, never heaving your body off the mattress.

The duality doesn’t disappear with this very first outfit.

When some music starts playing and they tell him to move freely, filming the sequences for the ads, your eyeballs nearly fall out of your eyes. And you finally realise why he looks so different now.

Because the moment his thumb touches his lower lip, mimicking a wiping motion (much like he does after kissing you sometimes), you see the silver-plated jewellery glimmering from all the way from the set.

Lip ring.

Whose idea…

“What did you do back there?” you ask, near-panicking, your heart dropping into your panties.

Juri flinches, asking, “What?”

“Is that a lip ring? You gave him a—”

You puff out a breath; it’s immensely difficult to be mad at him like this. He’s been looking…

“Shouldn’t we have?” her tiny voice asks; her body shrinks a little.

“I mean. I just. It wasn’t planned.”

“Yeah, but look how amazing he looks.”

You’re seeing it, alright.

The subtle touches, the light tugging at his shirt. Movements just right. He looks all serious, like a beast, hotter than motherfucking hell. Transports your saliva into your windpipe with each look he sports.

Until you actually feel yourself choking and gagging once he leaves and comes back for the next shoot twenty minutes later.

Because why on Earth did they omit the shirt under the grey blazer?

You’re close to dashing to costume and makeup, confronting them to ask why they chose to toy with your sanity like this. Because… the lip ring is still there. His hair is suddenly slicked back. Fingers adorned with rings.

And he looks so goddamn good.

Maybe it’s your fault. You told them you trusted them, and that they were supposed to do as they pleased. And they are… they so are.

All of him, like a strong magnet, pulls you in, but you keep your feet firmly on your spot, cementing yourself in place. There’s something incredibly attractive about the way he presents himself — new, talented.

You’re fidgety, a sexually frustrated observer when he touches his jacket, pulling it open just a little. The inked hand is veiny; you see it from here, too. The light gesture allows glimpses of his chest.

Small, perked, brown nipples. Lines and ripples of his abs firm. Ending in his V-line, hidden behind the peeking underwear and blue, baggy jeans.

Heavy chains are already menacing when he shuts his eyelids and parts his lips. Worse when he leans forwards, hazy eyes staring into the camera as if he’s about to devour the camerawoman.

Jeon Jungkook is a hazardous danger to society. The world will want him — and he’ll only want you.

Fuck.

You’re drooling. Drowning in your own puddle. Crossing your legs.

And when they tell him to sit, ordering to open the button of his jeans and push it down his hips just a bit, the little yous in your brain wreak havoc.

A fire starts in the organised office of your mind, red sirens blaring, and you look at Juri as you ask, “Why is he naked?! Why’s the blazer off his shoulder?!!”

“Because,” she defends, hiding behind the clipboard; it’s not her fault. That’s what the other model would’ve done, too. “Underwear ads!”

You’re aware. You just didn’t think it’d be Jungkook ending up in this position. Perhaps you didn’t think it through; didn’t know what it’d do to you.

But his effect pools in your lower stomach; so intense, you might cry.

“What the fuck,” you mumble when he takes the jacket off, sitting up and improvising all of a sudden. A hand covers his mouth, the blazer thrown over his shoulder. “What’s the point of holding it? He’s not even wearing it.”

“Because,” she starts again, “we’re focusing on the underwear.” Where’s the focus on the underwear? You can barely see it. Are people plotting against you? “It’s okay.” She pats your shoulder. “No one’s gonna touch him, love.”

You bite your lip. You know.

You aren’t distressed because you’re mad. But because knowing that everybody will crave him and nobody will get him turns you on more.

The fact that you’re the only one he’ll look at with those starry eyes; with the hunger in his gaze. The only one he’ll press into your bed, lips close to your ears, whispering endearments and filthy, little promises.

This man wants you, and you can barely handle that truth.

New thoughts and ideas form in your mind, too wild and desperate to be occurring right in this moment. So you mentally whoosh them away, holding on for the rest of the neverending shoot until a round of genuine applause sounds around the big set.

God. Okay. Hours of torture later, and he’s done.

A shy bow. No. This monster might convince anyone else, but you know he’s not as innocent as he gives himself.

He jogs over to you, says quietly enough for only you to hear, “Don’t tell them, but that was great.” You can imagine. He backs away, looks down to his defined abs, “I need to change. And then we can head home, they said.”

You blink, perplexed and still out of words. Which he struggles to interpret, looking over his shoulder and then back to you. Unsure, he adds, “Unless you need to wrap things up.”

When a random shout echoes through the room, you awake, inhaling deeply before you tell him, “No, I. I mean, yeah, we’ll wrap things up, but that shouldn’t take too long. Should be mostly done when you are.”

He nods. Waves, and then steers towards the others, shaking hands and exchanging smiles. Short convos. Then, to the back room. 

You’re too out of your mind and tired to chat much with staff. You go through the next steps, talk about waiting for the editor to be done with the photos, list the leftover things on your to-do list before the winter launch.

And that’s it. You meet Jungkook at the exit to the hallway, relieved when the end of the day approaches. On your way back home, you converse lightly, though he stops when you yawn one too many times.

He lets you rest as you pass shops and traffic lights, and holds your hand when you get off the vehicle. Drags you up the stairs; the climb is arduous. And then allows you to get ready for your slumber in peace.

The second the back of your head collides with the cold pillow, your eyes drop shut. The world spins behind your tired eyelids, adjusting to the darkness and the silence.

A sigh of relief pushes out of your mouth; a profound sense of tranquillity calms your lit nerves. Jungkook, next to you, seems just as exhausted because the yawn as soon as he slips under the covers is long and tear-inducing.

He’s blinking away the dampness of fatigue when you look over to him; you haven’t talked much since you arrived home, but Jungkook uses the moment to say, “I had a lot more fun than I expected to have.”

You’re so incredibly thankful for his last-minute rescue. But you can’t help but think of the muscles and expressions an hour prior. The seductive gaze, the lip accessory, the ring-clad fingers.

Perhaps it’s because of the time of the month, but you feel vexed by how affected you feel.

You control your tone, though the word still sounds monotone when you say, “Good.”

Catching upon it immediately, he shifts slowly, sniffling and head propping up on his hand before he asks, “Did you not like it?”

“Oh no, I mean,” you start, “you were amazing. I just didn’t know they’d send you out naked for the world to see. Thought the plan was to close a couple buttons.”

“The stylists told me. I think it was a spontaneous change because—”

You glance at him when he hesitates. A sly smile spreads across his features, just a little guilty yet amused as he watches your curiosity grow.

“What?” you ask.

“Nevermind.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“It’s nothing!” he exclaims. “We just thought it’d look cool. I thought you’d like it, too, actually.”

You did. That’s the issue. You liked it enough for it to burn into your mind, and now you can’t shake the image anymore.

No matter how many times you’ve seen him butt naked, buried inside you without a gap between your skin — something about his confidence and eyes stirred an unknown level of desire in you.

But you can’t tell him. Because the thing you want won’t be possible right now. You keep your thoughts veiled.

Instead, you unleash your annoyance because God, you hate him for being so hot.

“Right,” is all you say.

“Hey, don’t worry. Even if they ask, I’m not doing this again.”

“Might make you famous, though,” you mumble.

He snorts, fingers sneaking to your tummy, “So what? That’s not my profession. I didn’t study to become a model. Will work on my actual efforts.”

“Okay.”

The single word forces a sigh out of him, and he shakes his head, tapping his fingers against your stomach as he whispers your name thrice. Like he’s scolding you.

And then, “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you spit without hesitation, “of whom?”

You’re not. And you know that just for the moment, he won’t believe you. Which is fine. You’ll tell him the truth once your period’s over for the month.

“Of people who might see me and like what they see.”

Okay. Jerk.

At this point, he is doing it on purpose. You see it in the cocky smile and the jesting tone and the way his fingertips draw circles over your shirt, itching to sneak underneath the fabric.

You know him.

He’s so annoying.

“No,” you repeat.

“You sure? Huh?” Fuck, not that sulky voice. You close your eyes, but he raises your chin, making your head move. “Look at me, angel.”

“Hmm?”

“You said no, but you do look a little fiery,” he tells you. Yeah, if he knew that the real reason doesn’t lie in envy or whatever the world thinks of him. “What? My girl is jealous of people I won’t even perceive?”

No.

But she does feel the tickling, flattering lust pooling in her lower stomach, Jeon, thank you very much.

“Jungkook,” you start, although breathier when he moves closer, towards your neck. “Don’t be annoying.”

Which triggers a slightly mocking tone; he tuts before he says, “Baby bails on our date today. Will fight me in a restaurant. And then I’m annoying?”

Your answer is immediate and as shameless as can be.

“Yes.”

And it makes him laugh. Hot and sudden against your skin, his breath makes you shiver more than the relentless cold outside ever could.

“Not gonna lie,” he begins, “that brat behaviour isn’t too terrible.”

“Shut the fuck up, you just—”

He just what? You don’t know. Your sentence floats between you when his nose raises your chin, freeing the path to your neck before he’s nuzzling it slowly.

You feel goosebumps at the back of your neck, hair standing up, tingles across your body where you didn’t deem them possible. Under the blanket, your legs shift, and he hurries to move one of his between yours.

Hand still on your shirt, he places a barely-there, soft kiss to your neck; his fine tresses tickle your face and you crumble.

You have long forgotten your unfinished sentence, but he hasn’t. Asks, “What?”

You bury your nails into his arm, intrigued by the little hiss followed by a subtle laugh. Growing in volume when you say, “I kinda hate you right now.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, stretching the second word, “I hate you, too. Absolutely loathe you.”

You silence. Hold onto him when he French kisses between your neck and shoulder. And then breathe, “Then go away.”

“Mhh. Maybe I should.”

“Maybe…”

And then, out of the blue, his teeth dig into your neck like a gentle vampire, stopping immediately when you wince desperately. A hot tongue soothes the bite, a strong hand pushing you down by your shoulder again when your body lifts off the bed just a bit.

He keeps you in place, moving to your jaw. And when you whimper in lust and want, navigating his leg closer to your core, he curses, “Fucking hell, babe.”

Then, he’s inhaling, fingers wandering from your shoulder to your wrist as lips finally clash.

His body moves half onto yours, slowly gauging your reaction to the kiss as if he’s still expecting the burst of cumulated emotions. But when you give into his gesture, granting him your tongue, his face moves further against yours.

Undecided fingers let your wrist go, getting ahold of a patch of your hair. You hold his arms again until you wrap yours around him, fingers on the nape of his neck as you pull him in.

You tilt your heads in unison, deepening the kiss, drinking him up. Let him open your lips with his, keeping them like that, tips of your tongues playing with each other.

His touch drops to your waist and down to your pyjamas, pushing them down a little, grazing your panties. But then, his teasing palm floats up again and settles over one of your tits, squeezing once and drawing a telling moan out of you.

No bra.

He loves your little habits. You live through them casually, never noticing how badly they empty his mind.

Seems your head is blanking just as much at his touches; because you look delirious, lost, breathing in and out heavily. Jungkook basks in the expression, pushing a hand to your neck.

And only when he presses in gently, trapping you in place, do you seem to wake.

Eyes shoot open, and you inhale deeply, as if saved from drowning; remember every bit of today. The lines of his abs. The lip ring. The jewellery on his fingers.

You could ask for him to go on, to wreck you thoroughly. But of all arguments stopping you from doing so, there’s one damn reason that asks to prevent the mess.

Fucking period. Would create a literal bloody chaos. And you’re exhausted.

The thing is — if you asked him, you know he’d give it to you.

He’s reckless and careless. But you can’t risk the state of your sheets and the state of your mind. You have more work to do tomorrow; also, if you continued now, you’d be tired and immobile tomorrow, you know — and you need to be awake for this.

Fully in your senses.

Ugh. Fuck.

And the last damn day of the red waterfall, too. Thinking about it, perhaps that’s the reason for your agitation this week.

In hindsight, you know you’re never bitchy like that — he didn’t give you the nickname of an angel for nothing, right? Fuck PMS. Fuck mood swings.

Your poor boy, enduring the wrath of it.

But maybe you need to act pissed just a bit longer because—

“What?” he asks.

It’s not the time. So you stop him, pushing him away lightly. Shake your head, calling forth a crease between your eyebrows, turning away just a bit.

He falls back, once again keeping his upper body up by his arm. Inquires, “I— are you still mad?”

Truthfully, you answer flatly, “I’m on my period.”

“So?” he answers, laughing until he sees your lips, pressed into a serious line. “I’m not scared of some blood.”

You knew it. He’d give in if you told him to.

But what you want can’t be received during this time of the month. What you want requires unhinged chaos, carelessness, breathlessness. Craze of many minutes, hours.

You want more than a short, cautious session that asks you to peek at the sheets and the towel you’d get every now and then. You want to fucking lose yourself in hi—

“Let’s not,” you answer, your tone nonchalant, “Just. Let’s go to sleep, alright?”

He murmurs your name, trying again; but when you turn on your belly, giving a last sign to end the night, you hear him groan quietly.

You grimace when his head falls onto the pillow with an angry thump, movements under the blanket agitated as he scolds, “My God. Alright. You wanna be pissed for an entire week, then be pissed. I can’t do more than that.”

Oof.

If he only knew. And something in you tells you that he will very soon.

SUNDAY

Too lazy to work through the preparation process in the kitchen, Jungkook and you quietly decide to spend lunch outside.

The café nearby is a place you’ve wanted to visit for quite some time now. And despite the flaky, dry sandwiches they served, you’re glad time passed quickly, the awkward conversations between you coming to an end.

When you return from the bathroom, the sky above looks grey. Desolate. The weather forecast predicted a surprisingly pleasant late fall day, but the approaching rain is obvious. Which, you anticipated more than the weather forecast did, really.

That’s why an umbrella is leaning against the leg of the table, and you grab it as you watch Jungkook fumble with his wallet, stuffing it into his back pocket.

He gulps down the last sip of his Matcha Latte, dimples above the corner of his lips as he smacks the taste away. Then, he gets to his feet, asks, “Ready to go?”

Absent-mindedly, you nod, glancing to the sky and then back to him again. He looks sweet and domestic; but you can’t quite take him seriously. Not necessarily because of the fight anymore.

It’s been far too many days to still dwell.

But because of the damn lip ring, the open jacket, the gelled back hair. His destructive expressions. Like he could devour you whole.

Jungkook doesn’t stay angry for a long time, you’ve noticed. He always tells you how his temper used to be worse as a teenager, but how he’s learned to control himself.

Agonies of childhood, relationships and friendships taught him patience. And you notice. You truly notice.

Because he hands you your purse sweetly, immediately stretching his palm towards you. A slight smile spreads across his face, and you respond with a weak one of yours. Take his hand and let him lead you home.

You’ll walk the short distance; it shouldn’t take longer than seven or eight minutes.

And as you approach home, the hand holding yours mimics the motions of the one gripping the umbrella — he brings both arms into swing, somewhat euphoric but casual when he says, “The food was so dry there.”

It’s odd, talking to him like that after several days again. But you nod slowly, and agree, “I know. But at least we know where not to go anymore.”

“Yeah. But I mean, great beverages.”

“The milkshake, too.”

He tugs you a little closer, elbows soon touching, “I still think you should’ve gotten something warmer. You get a cold fast,” he looks up with squinted eyes, “and it’s already chilly today.”

You squeeze his hand as a thank you; Jungkook cares for you in little, subtle ways, and you’d lie if you said you didn’t think of it every now and then. You answer, “I feel fine, though.”

“Okay. Hope that stays.”

His palm, soft in yours, shifts until he’s intertwining his fingers with yours, attempting a stronger grip. You lift your eyes from the ground to his face for a second, meeting a gentle smile, and feel more pieces of your heart split.

They wander through your body, along your arm and straight into his chest, merging with his own organ. If you could, you’d push him against one of the unlit lamp posts, parted lips opting for his, breathing into his mouth.

He infested your thoughts and stuck with you, no way to escape the moment you first fell for him. And somehow, he managed to keep this effect intact, digging deeper into your mind and making himself home every damn second of the day.

The desire you’ve been feeling doesn’t just stem from lip rings and talent behind the camera. But you also keep realising that you’re truly this man’s, and that this man is truly yours.

A hard truth to fathom when you’re the subject of interest to one unique Jeon Jungkook.

But you want all of him. Want him over you, around you, taking all of what no other guy will ever be allowed to touch. Want him to show you once again where you belong and that you’re in this for as long as his affection is aligned with yours.

Fuck. Home is too far away.

So you look away from him. Which he interprets in an entirely wrong way.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, an inquiry out of nowhere that has your eyebrows kissing.

“No,” you answer.

“You barely talk to me. And,” he halts to wipe away a raindrop. Guess the clouds are gathering. “And I miss you.”

Your ribs might break. He keeps doing this to you.

“I’m not mad, Kook. Was just PMS-ing before,” you try again, adding a nickname for good measure.

“You sure?”

Jungkook is a free-spirited soul, careless to a healthy degree most of the time. There are only a few things that break his composure; familial insecurities, shitty pasts — and then there’s you.

Topping his list of priorities, you’re the only aspect in his current life that pushes him into spirals of overthinking.

And right now, he’s in the middle one, requiring a thousand reassurances. You want to answer. You really do.

But the distraction from above proves too strong the second you open your mouth. In the middle of your walk, the clouds explode, roaring for a moment before a downpour suddenly showers onto you.

The raindrops are thick, the bursting clouds aggressive.

Instinctively, Jungkook opens the umbrella, hastily working on it, and once under it, your steps pick up on pace. You wrap an arm around your body, closing the jacket, hooking your other arm with his and pushing the two of you forward.

“Shit,” you say; you look up, but can barely see anything. Only hear the thunder.

The wind grows colder, grazing the skin of your face incessantly. Despite the umbrella, the merciless rain wets your cheeks, singular drops flying towards you. Jungkook’s hair covers his face, and he shakes them off his eyes.

You gasp when a literal newspaper flies past you.

“Come on,” you encourage, already shivering. “We can talk about it at home, okay?”

But surprisingly, incredibly lost in his own head, he doesn’t give in. He adjusts to your pace, holding the umbrella in a strong grip, sighs and argues, “We can talk about it anytime.”

“Not now.”

“But—”

“Kook, right now’s not the time for this.”

Holy shit.

This man is a phenomenon. And you wish he wasn’t serious, but you know that he is. A full-on simp-y fool, no matter what.

“You’ve avoided me all week,” he yells over the sounds of the rain, sniffling, looking at the storm ahead, “we won’t die. It’s just rain.”

“It’s a thunderstorm, you idiot!” you exclaim back, moving straight forward and past running passengers. You should be home soon. “And in a minute we won’t be able to see shit.”

Jungkook must be made of cement. Broad shoulders, a well-trained body and willpower seem to combat the storm when he suddenly halts in his steps.

Immediately, you grab the umbrella, keeping it from nearly flying away; and when you remain the only presence under it, you ogle back. Watch him stand there in his red-white jacket, getting soaked by Mother Nature.

What the fuck.

You rush back, grabbing his wrist, pulling him forward as much as you can as you reprimand, “What the hell are you doing? Come on.”

“You’ll talk to me if I do?”

“Jungkook, we’ll die here, I—”

You flinch and gasp when another strong wind blows, once and for all ripping the umbrella off your hand and making it fly a couple feet from you. You watch it break through the fog of rain, mouth wide open with a dozen curses on your tongue.

“Fuck,” you exclaim, gritting your teeth, “I will. Just please, okay?!”

He’s so annoying. The way he looks at you, breathing hard, white shirt drenched and sticking to his body. You tug at his arm, forcing him to run when you do.

It takes you two entire minutes, wordless as you wish them to be, to reach his street and apartment. You tremble in the hallways, rushing up the stairs, and eventually take a seconds-long breath when you step into the flat.

It’s cold. So cold — and you had your jacket protecting your shirt. Your jeans and hair are soaked, your socks a sponge, soaked in a couple millilitres of water.

But it’s relieving when you take the jacket and your jeans off, pulling out the oversized, wrinkled shirt from under your pants, covering half your thighs. Jungkook slips out of his boots and rushes for a towel, approaching your heaving form at the door to dry your hair.

You quiver for a couple more minutes, fearing an approaching cold after all. But once settled on the couch, indulging in the comfort of thick joggers and a fresh cotton shirt, you sigh.

The silence still holding on only breaks when you drop your head back on the couch. A warm hand sneaks to your cheek, and when you open your eyes, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Warming up…” You lean into the touch, though still irritated by his behaviour before. “Thought it’d rain, but that was a surprise.”

“Yeah.” A pause. And then, “Was a little romantic, too.”

Unbelievable.

You roll your eyes at him, head tilting, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. Perhaps he’s joking. The goofy smile suggests that he is.

“Was it, yeah? You just—”

You click your tongue. Think back to him nearly offering his soul to Zeus just a couple minutes ago. Standing in the heavy rain as if he was the lead character in The Notebook.

“Don’t be mad now. I’m kidding,” he says. His voice isn’t as soft anymore; frustrated when he tries again, “Talk to me. What’s the problem?”

“Seriously? I told you there’s nothing.”

“Nah, cut that bullshit. You haven’t talked to me or properly touched me all week. I’m trying my fucking best.”

“I know. This isn’t what it’s about,” you defend, shaking your head, getting to your feet, “but about that insane little stunt out there.”

And the fact that he’s been driving you crazy. The week’s distress mixed with whatever he made you feel yesterday; today’s insanity further adding to it.

When he doesn’t speak, you sigh, waving it off, and opt to walk away. But all in vain.

You make it two steps away from the couch before he flashes up, too; filmesque, you gasp at the strong grip around your elbow, getting a tiny second to process the situation before he’s twirled you around.

He probably didn’t intend it, but you nearly clash against him, stupidly losing your balance and stumbling over his and your own feet. You put a hand to your temples, fearing the worst — what if you fall and clash against the corner of your glass table?

But no. In slow motion, he keeps you in his firm hold, preventing the fall, but still letting you gently drop onto the fluffy, white carpet. Your investment. You’re happy about it now because it caught you the way the wooden floor wouldn’t.

Your movements towards the grounds are slow — or at least that’s what they feel like. But when he appears above you, pinning your wrists to the carpet hard, he’s breathless; and you think that maybe the fall didn’t happen as slowly after all.

“Okay,” he says through gritted teeth. From down here, his jaw looks as sharp as a ship’s deck, the Adam’s apple bobbing when he challenges, “You’re gonna fucking tell me what’s going on.”

Oh. He’s mad.

His eyes are burning, jaw flexed. Defined chest rising in anger.

There’s nothing going on. At least nothing that warrants another fight.

But you don’t tell him that just yet. Instead, all your perplexed mind and tongue manage is, “What?”

“I forgave you. We were both shitty that day, you know? But I still did forgive you, and you’re still being like that.” His knuckles must be paling, because his grip is iron hard. “Why?”

“I—”

“I’ll apologise if that’s what you want. I did, actually. I’m sorry, okay? There. But this is just,” fingers squeeze your wrists, and you hiss, “ridiculous.”

Your following grimace, lips twitching, eyes squinting, go through to him immediately. The hold doesn’t hurt or bother you too much, but the leg between your knees does. Jungkook wouldn’t wound you; he knows his limits.

But perhaps he thinks he’s going overboard when he loosens his fingers, pressing his palms against your skin, rubbing to soothe the missing pain.

He doesn’t quite move away, though, still stubborn when you assure once again, “I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“So you keep saying.”

“I’m not,” you tell him, heart racing at the proximity. You close your legs around his knee, irritated by the barrier. “I promise.”

He doesn’t give your gesture much attention just yet; doesn’t know that his body over yours is exactly what you’ve been craving. But he does understand the sincerity in your voice. Finally.

When he moves closer, pupils melting to fluid gems, you let out an intentional, teeny tiny moan that you’re sure he confuses for a relieved sigh. He moves his palms onto the carpet, caging you in; you keep your wrists where they are, but dig your nails into your skin.

You want to kiss him so badly. You miss him so much.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, angel,” he demands again, quieter and softer this time.

“I don’t know.”

With the fury evaporating bit by bit, his eyes look bigger and rounder again. The desperation of the week gathers in them and his expression, shooting all the way down to his tongue; and when he whispers to you next, your heart collapses, “Please?”

He’s sweet… so utterly oblivious to your true thoughts.

But you couldn’t feel more embarrassed about the pictures you’ve been painting and the words ghosting in that mind of yours. He’d do all of it, no questions asked. But… fuck.

“This is so dumb,” you answer, fingertips dragging down the carpet and then up to his waist, “like… you’ll laugh.”

The touch encourages him. His arms are shaking now, holding him up in this position for too long, and the wandering fingers along his sides and chest must weaken him like his lines affect you.

“That’s a good thing,” he answers, closer than ever when he balances his weight on his arms now, forearms touching the carpet. “I’d rather laugh than fight.”

But the closeness remains for mere seconds before he pulls back again, sitting up with a groan. Hands on his thighs, he lets himself fall on bended knees. He watches your still helpless body on the floor until you work on getting off the carpet, letting him pull you up when he offers a hand.

You ruffle through your hair, legs folding. Your pout is more directed towards yourself than anyone else; you totally realise you didn’t need to confuse him the way you did. Stupid period.

“Listen, I just…” you start, scraping your scalp.

His knees bump against your legs when he drifts closer; there’s something about the two of you sitting on your living room carpet like this.

“It’s just that I want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

And that’s it. That’s literally it.

He halts. His hand was moving up, probably to touch your face, your hair, anything soft to ease the mood. But he cancels the tender gesture, fingers falling back to his knee when he absorbs your words.

Silences with cocked eyebrows. Processes the way you lick your lips and look away, tugging at his wide shirt. And then, once he’s understood, he tsks. Chuckles.

And you, immediately on guard, push lightly against his shoulder, unsurprised when he doesn’t buckle, and defend, “Told you you’d laugh!”

“No, but,” he says, sweet crinkles around his eyes, head tilting and bunny teeth giving way to the prettiest smile in existence, “what are you talking about, hm?”

He knows. If only his feigned innocence was as sweet as his grin, too.

Still, you opt to clarify, “That thing you did yesterday.”

“What thing?”

Ugh.

“The whole modelling thing!” you exclaim, raising your hands. His beam reaches up to his eyes; his occasional giggles are killing you. “Stop. Do you have any clue what you looked like?”

He has the audacity to shrug. “They let me see the pics on their cameras. They’ll come out well.”

“Well? Dude, you looked…”

“What?”

“Dangerous. Like you could eat me up.”

Eat me up might be accurate. It’s the description floating through your little mind since yesterday.

“Ah,” he says, nodding smugly. You know he’s about to tease you. Because— “You specifically, yeah? I was just doing what they told me to.”

“What, is me specifically wrong? Anyone else you’d wanna eat up or—”

“You’re really fixating on that, huh?” Jungkook snickers. His tongue pokes the inside of his right cheek in a brief pause, and then he adds, “You’ve got a point. Didn’t think it’d affect you, though.”

Slowly, but surely, he seems to grasp his own power over you. You think he’s reminiscing about yesterday’s chaos and confidence; maybe even viewing it all from your point of view.

Because his smirk, albeit subtle, is sly when he asks, “What was it like?”

“I…” You click your tongue. “You’ll take me apart if I tell you.”

“Why so?”

“Because.” A beat of silence. You swallow to wet your throat. Then. “I’d ask you to.”

“Ah…” Another understanding nod, as though you’re lecturing him on NASA’s rocket science and he’s finally grasping its meaning. “Yeah?”

“I saw you from afar,” you point into a direction arbitrarily, as if he’s still several feet from you and not mere inches, “and I wanted to,” you inhale when a finger reaches out, straight to a vein in your neck, gentle, exploring, “let you do anything with me that you wanted to.”

“Ohh.” His palm covers your neck, as if he’s coddling you. But you know what that touch will morph into, so you sneak closer to him, lean forwards. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“…Right.”

His thumb moves up and rubs under your jaw, then up your face and to your lower lip. The touch is soft and careful, as though gauging your reaction and searching for permission.

Your shaky, little exhale is nearly unnoticeable, but you know he catches it, and you know he already sees the consent in your eyes. But he still doesn’t lean in. Moves his eyes across your face, to his hand, to your neck and then all the way back to your gaze.

And then, contrasting the loving movements and affectionate gesture, he smiles. Mischief spreads in his stare, and his fingers retreat to the back of your neck, pulling you closer by a miniscule inch.

“So that’s what it was all this time? You’re on your knees for me, is that it?”

“Babe…” You look down, daring a joke. “Quite literally.”

You shuffle in your spot when he laughs quietly, hooking your fingers into the neckline of his shirt. You emphasise, “I mean it. Just… If you must know? I would’ve been okay with handing you all the control, okay? All of it.”

You’re aware you’re acting as though he doesn’t wreck your shit every other time, too. In fact, that’s probably how the two of you started out.

His absolute craze at the frat party, drunk. College nights when you’d confront him about your bullshit — weak excuses to make him press you against his dorm walls. A hand clapped over your mouth, your ass out, dick buried inside until you felt him in your guts—

You’ve always been at his mercy — but you want him to split you in half this time.

“You would’ve?” he repeats. “And now? Still want that?”

You look down again. There’s no shyness in that movement, no averting his beastly eyes — your focus lies elsewhere because you have a theory. Which proves true.

The swelling under his joggers, right there between his legs wasn’t there before.

So you gather your voice, and say, “…Yes.”

“Hmm. Why didn’t you tell me?” His fingernails dig lightly into your skin, and right in the middle of the tension, he pouts for a little moment. “I genuinely thought you were still pissed.”

“I was on my period…” You shrug your shoulders. “It was also late. I was so tired, and—”

He waits.

“I knew that you’d do it if I asked for it.”

“I would’ve.” What’s worse? The confirmation or the tickling breath against your cheek? When did he get so close? “I still would. If you want me to.”

“I just said yes,” you tug at the shirt, eliciting an amused grin as the tips of your noses collide, “you’ll keep asking and,” your heart beats at a million miles a minute, “just not kiss me, is that it?”

Your provocation proves effective just the right amount.

Because he opens his mouth, seemingly snarling — you can’t tell for sure, since his lips clash against yours within half a moment. Determined as his hand immediately flashes to the small of your back, supporting you before you fall backwards on the carpet.

And then he kisses you like a man starved. Like he’s run out of saliva, dehydrated. Seeks your tongue, tastes like earthy Matcha Latte and something you can’t quite define — something that’s so uniquely him.

Your kiss muffles his tiny sound, a mixture of a sigh and a moan, body impatient as he tries to push closer to you, though separated by your clashing knees. You understand — you, too, would let him smother you under his weight if you could.

So you pull your folded legs apart, shifting until they surround him and attempting to straddle him. But he’s plotting something else: his fingers hold your jaw, keeping you in place, and the hot, wet kiss breaks when he pulls away.

You catch a brief glimpse of glistening lips before he moves to trail down your body, leaning in to teeth at your shirt, pushing it off your shoulder and kissing your skin for a fleeting second. And when the shirt shifts back into position, his other hand works on your tits.

Grabs your shirt at its hem, lifting it over your mounds until they’re free, nipples perked, home to him. In a haze, the tip of his tongue touches the right nub, and you shiver.

More so when he whispers, “Am so hard for you, I’ll fucking combust.”

For you.

You’ll repent for how badly you want him in your mouth.

You caress his thigh, sneaking up until you reach the swelling under the fabric. You feel it immediately, firm as a rock, big and fat, so sensitive that he hisses once you touch it.

“No,” he commands, the word barely a breath, “no, no. Don’t or I’ll come like this.”

He says it against your neck. Warm and tickling. You feel goosebumps arise, your reactions slow, but your heart fast. His fingers engulf your wrist, leading your palm to his cheek; you feel the smileless dimple under your thumb when he darts out his tongue to wet his lips.

Then, you close your eyes; the pecks against your neck are exhilarating. The moving touch, down to your tits and then back up to your jaw is one of his favourite games; you move your hips against the carpet, soaked panties sticking against your pussy.

“You’re…” you start, fingers in his fluffy hair as he bites your nipple. You moan, your words shaky, “You’re— more into this today.”

“I mean… after everything you just said to me?” He chuckles, moving up, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His mouth brushes yours.

“And I missed her.” Free hand between your thighs, he taps just over your clit; your lips part. “Too crude to say I can’t wait for her to swallow my cock?”

Well. Fuck.

If it wasn’t him, you’d cringe. But it is him, and the truth is that you’re dying for him to press himself onto you. To wrap himself around you, to wrap yourself around him.

You want him to cut you in half, want to be his little toy until you can barely stand.

“Maybe,” you tell him, “but I promise that she wants it, too.”

That’s it, that’s it.

It’s when teeth meet again, the kiss messy, your arms around his neck. He holds you by your waist, pulling you off the floor a little, readjusting his position, so you can climb onto him.

You tilt your head as far as you can, taking him in, drooling, lips and tongue moving wildly to taste all of him. His digits wander from your back to your ass, pushing between your cheeks and pressing against your clenching hole.

The gesture is short lived, but enough for you to rub against him. The urge to rip your panties and part your folds over his girth is profuse; to dampen his length and empty his balls just like this.

But he clenches his jaw, groaning. Halts your movement with a strong grip before pulling at your hair without breaking the kiss. You move your fingers up and down his arm, and then dash it upwards to bury them in his locks, too.

Only, instead of reaching his mane, your hand hits the glass table on your left; you grunt into the kiss and then move away to exclaim, “Ah, fuck.”

Jungkook must’ve heard the sound because he catches on right away, laughing. Gently, he pushes you off his lap, gets back on his knees and then up. He pulls you with him as he says, “Alright. Get on the couch before you hurt yourself.”

“Couch?”

You’re surprised; not the bed this time, is it?

Then again — Jungkook isn’t necessarily picky when it comes to this; cue flashback to bathroom adventures.

So you still listen. Wobbly legs drag you to the sofa, plumping onto it as you watch him follow. The bulge is huge, hotter than hellfire when he palms it and lets go again.

“Too damn lazy to get to the bedroom,” he declares before dropping back on his knees.

You thought he’d climb over you, push you back across the length of the couch. But instead, he seems satisfied with your helpless position, pushing back the carpet and table some to take a seat right in front of you.

You admire his patience — the outline of his cock presses against its confines. Does it not hurt? His expression doesn’t reveal any discomfort as he adjusts against the hard floor; the carpet barely provides any relief.

But the discomfort doesn’t redirect his focus, his touch heading towards you, urging you to remove your joggers at turtle’s pace. He throws them over his shoulder and onto the table, one leg of them dangling off of it.

Left in your panties, you watch his hands curl under your knees, freeing his way to where you want to ache. Lifts your legs, places them on his shoulders carefully, amused and delighted when your bent limbs drag him closer to your cunt.

His tenacious tongue peeks between his teeth, and he fondles your thighs before he reaches the hem of your panties. They bug him — separate your heat from his mouth; in this moment, a crime to him.

“Help me here real quick,” he whispers, and you raise your ass, letting him drag the underwear off of you.

It sticks to your pussy for a second, obscenely flooded with your gradually building arousal. You think he sees, because he halts for a second, eyes flitting up to you before he says, “I think this’ll be fun.”

“You promise?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Well…

You shrug your shoulders, but smile tellingly, eliciting a smirk that decorates his gorgeous face, closing in bit by bit. The cool air evaporates the nearer he draws, replaced by his hot breath.

And then… just to test…

He darts out his tongue, the sharp tip of it tickling your clit. Your reaction, much desired, stirs a new type of appetite in him. Because your chin trembles just once, just for a moment. Lashes flutter, and his heart skips a beat.

As he inhales, but never exhales, you question, “What?”

“Nothing,” he assures, blowing against your sex, “just. So very pretty.”

You look down at him. His shoulders look broader from here. Muscular, hair dark and silky. His lips are colourful, handsome, nose ready to bury in your pelvis. If he thinks you’re pretty, then he’s the definition of true aesthetic.

Slowly, you reach for his hair, brushing through it before you bring his head closer to you, hinting at the obvious, and say, “And you.”

“Not like you, though…”

He waits, allowing the both of you a moment of preparation.

And then… he’s kissing your pussy. Lightly at first, up and down, a hand on your inner thigh that moves closer and closer to your folds.

He sighs once before a digit parts your nether lips sticking together, and then licks a stripe between them. You whine quietly; his eyes close. He’s beautiful like this; in a minute, he’ll look at you again, mouth swollen, and you’ll wish for his touch to last and last and last…

“Please,” you only whisper, but he doesn’t answer.

Instead, his sweet kisses turn into something more. Way more wetness, way more tongue. And before you know it, he’s splitting your legs wider, pushing in to start devouring you.

Your moans are intoxicating. They’re sudden, but not surprising, voiced against the ceiling when your head falls back. The heels of your feet dig into his back, pushing him closer when his knees are already touching the couch.

The movements of his mouth are warm, a waterfall. He eats you out until he’s slurping, drenching you further. He’ll slide in effortlessly, you already know. Will bury every single inch of himself inside you, fill you up for the rest of the day.

And your high — it builds up embarrassingly fast. Perhaps because it’s been a while; or maybe because it’s Jeon Jungkook you’re dealing with. Either way, your lower stomach aches, the knot pressing against your guts.

“Kookie,” you murmur, yet again left without an answer.

He knows not to break his focus this time; knows that you’re close, recognises it in your grip around the patch of his hair. Hears it in your desperate whimpers, louder by the second. Words more unintelligible now.

Your thigh is twitching every now and then, quivering, and he takes it as a sign to keep sucking and swirling. Then flicks his wet muscle over your engorged clit, adding to your exclaims when his nimble fingers glide into you swiftly.

Too swiftly. Two of them are barely enough; and he adds a third. Your cheeks heat up, body sliding down — partly because you’re dying inside, partly because he’s pulling you towards him.

Jungkook knows how to navigate your body, how to direct you towards a rationality-breaking explosion. And he does. He does with the plethora of lustful licks, softly circling around your clit. His nose presses against it every time he shifts downwards, tasting you thoroughly.

“I’m almost—” you voice, and he hums, vibrations torture.

It’s a game to him that he’s skilled at; he understands his moves, and he never loses. Neither today as he clamps his hand onto your waist, fingers pumping in and out of you, curling and digging, massaging your favourite spot.

They turn and twist, two fingers of his free hand settling around your clit and raising it for better access.

It takes probably half a minute longer… and then… then…

Your voice grows in pitch, nearly illegal for a Sunday afternoon, but music to his ears. So genuine and sweet. Corners of your eyes glistening. He holds your legs apart as you start begging, but all he truly makes out is the eager repetition of his name.

He wishes your shirt didn’t cover your upper body; wishes he could see the heaving of your chest, the perked nipples, the sweat on your clavicles.

But for now, this is enough.

The way he sees waves of pleasure wash over you, eyes rolled back, not looking at him anymore. Your lips are dry, your tongue probably, too, and he wants to kiss it wet again.

You moan and wince and keen, body restless. The tug of his hair becomes more prominent and palpable, but the sensation makes him smile. You’re probably barely noticing, too.

That is, until your hold and breathing finally calm down. You keep riding the wave, your head turning in odd circle-ish shapes. He kisses your pussy, helping you through it, only stopping when you open your eyes.

“Well, that was…” he says, lips as swollen as you anticipated, shimmering, “a good start.”

“Every single time,” you begin, panting, shaking your head. You watch him as he gets on his feet, moving in to your mouth. “Every single time I think it can’t get better, and then I remember it’s just the fucking beginning.”

He shifts to you slowly, grazing your lips, and declares with a soft smile, “More to come, I promise. Gonna have so much fun with you.”

“Do your worst—”

One more kiss. Shorter this time, but you recognise the familiar, lingering taste immediately. Neutral, not too bad. Fills you with pride, because he never fails to guarantee that he loves it.

But you can’t wallow in it because he retreats quickly, impatient hands freeing his golden body from his clothes. The shirt falls somewhere next to the carpet, his own joggers soon discarded, landing on top of yours and sliding to the ground together.

He’s a menace when he climbs onto the couch, knees digging in and creating a shift on each side of your body. His bulge, still hidden behind his boxers, floats in front of your face; from this close, you see the droplet of precum darken a spot of the light purple cotton.

“Next stage?” he wonders above you, stroking your hair gently, as if he’s not about to explore the back of your throat. “Want or do I rather not?”

“What do you mean with not?” Your breathing is heavy as you lift your palm and engulf the imprint of his dick. He flinches, hips moving back a bit before they come back. “Get this shit off.”

He chuckles. Brings his hand to your cheek, thumb caressing it and voice clear when he says, “You’re so cute. Being demanding and all.”

But he still listens. Gets off the couch, slides his underwear off, leaves you gaping.

Gaping at the hooked and girthy tower. Gaping at how the slit on top of his head glimmers. Gaping at the moles along the stiff length, staring at the thick veins, at the full, firm balls.

“Tongue out,” he orders; you do.

The ink-free hand pushes his dick down to you, tapping it against your tongue as you open up wide. He feels heavy, hot, the skin smooth. Your head moves forward to swallow more, but he pulls back.

Strokes himself for a couple seconds, thumb spreading the precum over his head. You drool. Watch attentively, as though you’re learning — until he eventually guides it back to you and positions it into your still gaping mouth.

Enters it slowly. Slightly salty. Then says, “Breathe. And don’t overthink it too much.”

Huh.

Well. Damn.

Because…

At times, you do worry about your expressions; about your tears when you gag around him, the coughing fits you get in the middle of it all. So that’s a surprise. Attentive. 

But your mind is blank today anyway; so you nod, moving to lick the underside of the tip, and he laughs, mumbling, “Alright. Have it, babe.”

And you do.

Slowly at first, cautious as you twirl your tongue around him. You don’t notice much discomfort just yet, thankful that he’s easing you into this. A third of his length buried inside, you close your lips around him and hollow your cheeks.

Which is probably when the invisible threads holding him back finally break.

“Okay,” he says, “you got this.”

His knees move in, more inches intruding. His fingers drift to the back of your head, and you dig yours in his brawny thighs. He grows harder in your mouth, impossibly bigger the more you drag your lips along his member.

How gratifying. You’ve craved this for hours and days. What was your argument about again?

Your head drops further back when he shoves himself inside, more and more as time passes. You imitate his prior advances — hum and close your eyes. Bring a hand to the base of his cock, pumping all that you won’t be choking around.

When you gaze up at him to analyse his reactions, he leaves your mind vacant. Because his head is raised, like yours, jawline edged and acute. Mouth open until he meets your eyes.

You hope he’s seeing something just as lascivious and mind-numbing from his perspective. Maybe messy hair, laying against the softness of your shirt. Or a cock appearing out of and disappearing behind pretty lips.

Slowly blinking eyes that shut just as slowly again, and a tongue that falls out and licks along a vein whenever your head moves to the side. Allowing you a couple deep breaths.

He must be perceiving it all, too.

Because a moment later, he gnarls, like a wild animal, and states, “This won’t do—”

—Before putting both hands under your ears, holding your head and…

Ramming his cock into your mouth.

You gasp around him, taken aback and delighted at once. Feel the effect between your legs, hoping to not defile the couch too much.

Head still thrown back, falling further, you already feel the ache in the back of your neck. Your attempts of holding onto the couch prove futile because there is nothing to hold onto, armrests too far away; so you return to his thighs.

But he keeps your body steady, held at the spot between his legs. Your head is a different story: it bounces back and forth, the exhales through your nose frantic as he pounds into your throat before he slows down again.

“Good, gooood,” he drags out, observing the glistening veins as he draws back to his tip and then moves in again. “Doing very, very well. Looks so gorgeous, baby.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about — about you, his cock, the position. Everything? 

He keeps up the gentler pace, allowing you a break. Allowing himself the pleasure of this very image. Pretty lips surrounding a pretty dick.

And perhaps your desperate, little moans, accompanied by rapid blinking, set a fuse loose in his brain.

Because a moment later, Jungkook dares a step further — cock already stuffing your entire mouth, he pushes in more. The fat monstrosity reaches far, your gag reflex not as much at bay anymore as before.

The view seems to spur him on, though, and you can imagine why. If you were him, you’d probably enjoy the drooling mess under him, too. Salivating all over his dick, you feel the gross drop of your spit land on your clavicle, throat constricting as he thrusts in.

And just when you’re about to tap his thighs — very reluctantly, too — to catch your breath, he pulls back, fingers immediately digging into your cheeks to straighten your neck and head. You cough, eyes teary, your breathing quick and uncontrolled.

Like a toy, he moves your head to the left, to the right, a sly smirk playing around his lips until he moves down to you, back arched. Amidst your panting, he presses a brief kiss to your mouth, slippery against the dampness.

And then he says, as casually as he shouldn’t, “You’d look so beautiful in leashes.”

“…What?”

But he ignores your mumbled inquiry, instead thumbing at your lower lip. His dark eyes flit from one facial feature to another, pink lip caught between his teeth. The firm chest rises dangerously when he breathes in.

“Should I come in your mouth?” he asks as if you’d ever say no; as if you don’t know that he’s asking because he won’t. “Huh? Shoot it all the way down your throat?”

“Do it, fucking coward.”

…And just like that, he moves back.

tumblr is cruel and the 1k block limit in the new editor won't let me post the entire thing at once lol so here's the rest in a reblog!!! <3

[mcrdvcks]

Nasty

Summary: You and Logan deal with the aftermath of your mission.

Word Count: 5.4k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: i thought i'd put part 2 at out at the same time just 'cause. enjoy this pure smut!

(and yes, both titles are ariana grande songs, sue me)

warnings/tags: some uses of y/n, pet names, porn no plot, oral sex (m and f receiving), swearing, unprotected sex, creampie, not proofread

Part 1

The mission at the gala and the following one where the X-Men saved the mutants from the trafficking ring went on without a hitch.

But there was one thing you and Logan weren’t the greatest at. Talking about feelings.

You’re very aware that emotions are your specialty, being able to feel how everyone else feels, but you usually despise your own.

Despite the kiss incident at the gala, you and Logan acted normal around each other. The flirty comments to each other didn’t stop, not in the slightest.

You were leaning against the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in your hands, watching Logan rummage through the fridge.

“So, doll, you gonna keep ignoring the elephant in the room, or should I spell it out?” Logan’s voice was gruff, but there was that smirk on his face, the one he gave you whenever he knew he was pushing your buttons.

You raised an eyebrow, sipping your coffee slowly, playing it off. “What elephant? There’s just you and your terrible food choices.”

Logan chuckled, grabbing a leftover sandwich and leaning against the counter across from you. “Oh, you know damn well what elephant I’m talking about. You gonna pretend nothing happened?”

“I’m not pretending anything, Logan,” you replied, eyes narrowing slightly. “We kissed. So what? It’s not like it means anything.”

He raised an eyebrow, biting into his sandwich, clearly not buying it. “Is that what you’re telling yourself, Psionix?” he asked, using your code name like it was some kind of challenge.

You hated when he called you that in moments like this. It was like he was reminding you that you could feel his emotions, that you knew there was something more bubbling under the surface. Something you were avoiding.

“Yeah, well, maybe I am,” you shot back, setting your mug down with a little more force than intended.

Logan didn’t back down. “You’re a terrible liar, doll. Always have been.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. “What do you want me to say, Logan? That I haven’t thought about it? That it didn’t make things... complicated?”

“Complicated, huh?” Logan pushed himself off the counter, his tone teasing but with a serious edge. He walked towards you, closing the distance between you both. “That what you’re afraid of? A little complication?”

You could feel his emotions swirling—interest, concern, a bit of hesitation—but also something more. Something deeper. It wasn’t like Logan to open up, and you weren’t exactly thrilled about digging into your own feelings either.

“What if I am?” you shot back, eyes meeting his. “What if things get... messy?”

Logan’s gaze softened just a bit, though that smug smirk didn’t leave his lips. “Messy’s my specialty, doll. And you can handle messy. You’ve been handling me all this time.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was truth in his words. Despite all the walls both of you had, there was something there. Something neither of you wanted to talk about, but neither of you could avoid.

“And what about you?” you countered, taking a step closer, not backing down. “You gonna pretend like nothing’s going on? Like you’re not... feeling something?”

Logan’s eyes darkened slightly, his jaw tightening. “I don’t pretend about much, especially not with you,” he said, his voice low.

There was a tension in the air now, thicker than usual, and you could feel your heart beating a little faster. You hated how easily he got under your skin, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to stop.

“So what do we do, Logan? Keep flirting, keep dancing around it? Or do we—”

Before you could finish, Logan stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a near growl. “We could stop dancing around it anytime, doll. You know that.”

Your breath caught in your throat for a second, the weight of his words hitting you harder than expected. He wasn’t joking, wasn’t teasing anymore. This was serious. And suddenly, you realized just how much you were standing at the edge of something you weren’t sure you were ready for.

But Logan... Logan wasn’t the kind to wait around. Not when he wanted something.

“You ready to stop pretending?” His voice was rough, but there was that familiar glint in his eye.

For a moment, you considered stepping back, saying something sarcastic to deflect, to keep things light like you always did. But you couldn’t.

So, against your better judgment you repeated what you did at the gala. Your hands found Logan’s jaw, the coarse texture of his beard grazing your fingers as you pulled him into a kiss. His lips met yours with a fierceness that made your head spin. It wasn’t soft or tentative like the last time; it was hard, demanding, like he was done with all the talking, the flirting. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, the heat between your bodies immediate, burning through your clothes.

You gasped against his mouth as he pressed you back against the counter, the edge digging into your lower back, but you didn’t care. The kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against yours, hungry, searching. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the way his hands moved up your sides, possessive. He didn’t ask for permission. He just took, and fuck, you liked that.

Logan broke the kiss, his lips moving down your neck, nipping at your skin. You tilted your head back, giving him access, your breath coming out in quick, shallow bursts. “Logan—”

“Shut up,” he growled against your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. One hand slid up to cup your breast through your shirt, fingers squeezing just hard enough to make you gasp. You could feel him pressing against you, hard and insistent, leaving no room for guessing what he wanted.

You arched into him, the heat pooling low in your stomach, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. “I’m not pretending anymore,” you whispered, your voice shaky but firm.

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “Good. Neither am I.”

With a rough shove, you sent Logan backward, his body landing hard on the kitchen chair. The scrape of wood against the floor echoed through the room, but neither of you cared. Your thighs straddled his, grinding down as your mouths crashed together in a frenzy of heat, teeth clashing, tongues desperate for more.

Logan’s hands were on you immediately, gripping your hips with a possessiveness that sent a jolt of arousal through you. You tugged at his hair, breaking the kiss only long enough to catch a ragged breath. His cock pressed thick and hard against you through his jeans, and you felt it pulse as you rolled your hips over him, teasing.

His growl was low, primal, his hands sliding under your shirt, rough fingers kneading the flesh of your sides. You could feel him straining for control, his jaw clenched as he tried not to rip your clothes off right there.

Without another word, you slid off him and dropped to your knees between his legs. Logan’s eyes darkened as you reached for his belt, yanking it open with a sharp tug, the clink of metal punctuating the thick silence. He leaned back, his smirk dangerous as he watched you, those animal eyes locked onto every move you made.

The zipper came down next, your fingers brushing against his thick length straining against the fabric. Logan didn’t flinch, didn’t break eye contact, but the tension in his body said enough. He wanted this as much as you did.

“Fuck, doll, you gonna make me wait?” His voice was low, rough, like he was barely holding it together.

You didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, you pulled him free, his cock springing out, thick and hard in your hand. You stroked him once, slowly, enjoying the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers dug into the arms of the chair.

Then you wrapped your lips around the head, taking him into your mouth, slow at first, letting your tongue swirl around the tip, tasting him. Logan’s hand immediately found the back of your head, not pushing, just holding you there, like he needed to feel your mouth on him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hips shifting slightly as you took him deeper. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking hard as you slid down, inch by inch, feeling his cock throb against your tongue. Logan’s grip tightened in your hair, his breathing ragged.

You set a rhythm, bobbing your head, your hand stroking what you couldn’t take in. Logan’s grunts and curses filled the air, and you felt a surge of satisfaction knowing how much you were getting to him. His thighs tensed, muscles coiled with that barely-contained need.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he growled, his voice strained. “You always did have a smart mouth.”

You hummed around him in response, the vibration making him twitch in your mouth. His control was slipping, and you could feel it in the way his hand tightened in your hair, the way his hips started to thrust, small, sharp movements as he fought the urge to fuck your throat.

You pulled off with a slick pop, your lips swollen, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his cock. Logan’s eyes were wild, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths as he stared down at you, his hand still tangled in your hair.

“Up,” he growled, the command rough but filled with need.

You didn’t hesitate, standing quickly as Logan’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you up into his arms. His lips were on yours again, hard and demanding, as he lifted you effortlessly. Before you knew it, you were stumbling through the kitchen, your back slamming into the hallway wall as he kissed you like he was starved for it.

“Bedroom,” he growled against your lips, his voice hoarse with desire.

You barely made it to the bed. Logan was on you before you hit the mattress, his body pinning yours as he ripped your shirt over your head, his teeth nipping at your neck, your collarbone, anywhere he could reach. His hands were everywhere, possessive, greedy, as he shoved your pants down, his fingers teasing your soaked panties.

“Fuck, doll,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re already so fucking wet.”

His fingers grazed over your panties, feeling the dampness soaking through. With a low growl, he hooked his fingers into the fabric and yanked them down in one swift motion, tossing them aside. His gaze burned as he stared at your pussy, glistening and ready for him.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, spreading your legs wider with his hands, positioning himself between your thighs. “You’ve been teasing me long enough.” His rough hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he leaned down, his breath fanning over your swollen clit, teasing you with the promise of what was coming.

You bit your lip, trying to keep some semblance of control, but when his tongue flicked out, just barely brushing your clit, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your throat. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “Fuck, Logan,” you groaned, your hips bucking slightly, desperate for more.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. With a growl, his mouth was on you, tongue lashing over your clit in slow, deliberate strokes, each one sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You could feel the heat building in your core, your body responding to every flick of his tongue, every wet slide against your most sensitive spot.

“God, you taste so fucking good,” he muttered between licks, his voice vibrating against your clit, making your back arch off the bed. He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, his mouth working you over like he was starving for it, like he couldn’t get enough. And fuck, neither could you.

Your moans filled the room, breathless and ragged, each one louder than the last as his tongue worked you closer to the edge. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place as he devoured you, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking hard enough to make your toes curl. You could feel the pressure building, feel yourself getting closer and closer to that breaking point.

“Logan,” you gasped, your hips grinding against his face, chasing that release. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

His tongue worked you relentlessly, flicking and lapping at your clit, his growls vibrating through your body, driving you mad with every stroke. Logan didn’t let up, sucking your clit into his mouth with just the right amount of pressure, sending sparks down your spine. His stubble scratched your inner thighs, the burn only adding to the pleasure as he devoured you, like he couldn’t get enough.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me come," you panted, fingers gripping his hair tight, pushing him deeper against you. Your thighs trembled, and Logan groaned, his tongue sliding lower, licking through your folds, teasing your entrance before diving back up to swirl around your swollen clit.

He growled low in his throat, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he held you in place, forcing you to ride his face. His tongue was relentless, flicking back and forth over your clit, each pass sending a shockwave through your core. Your breath hitched, a gasp escaping your lips as the pressure built inside you, everything coiling tighter and tighter.

"Logan... fuck, I’m gonna—"

He didn’t let you finish, sucking hard on your clit, his tongue swirling faster, pushing you over the edge. Your body jerked, hips bucking against his mouth as the orgasm tore through you, a strangled cry escaping your throat.

"Ahhh, fuck... fuck, Logan!"

Your whole body tensed, thighs squeezing around his head as you came, the pleasure ripping through you in waves. Logan didn’t stop, his mouth working you through the orgasm, licking and sucking every drop as you trembled above him, breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Jesus," you muttered, trying to catch your breath, your legs shaking uncontrollably. Logan chuckled darkly, his hands squeezing your hips as he kissed up your thigh, his lips slick with your arousal.

"Told ya," Logan growled, voice thick with the weight of his hunger. He wiped the slick wetness of your release from his lips with the back of his hand, his eyes hooded and dark, locked on you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. That wolfish grin flashed across his face, knowing damn well he’d had you shuddering beneath him like that.

He was still on his knees between your legs, his body a wall of muscle as he prowled closer, bracing himself with one hand beside your head, the other trailing up the inside of your thigh. His fingers grazed over your soaked folds, and you jolted, still sensitive from his mouth. He smirked at the way you twitched, unable to hide the raw arousal that had never truly ebbed.

"You're a fucking tease, doll." His voice was low, gravelly, lips brushing your ear as his fingers danced between your legs again, slipping over your entrance, teasing just enough to make you squirm.

You gasped, fingers curling into the sheets beneath you as he toyed with you, his fingers sliding against your soaked pussy but never giving you what you wanted. "Maybe I just know what you like," you whispered, breathless, grinning up at him through half-lidded eyes.

Logan growled low in his throat, leaning in to bite at your neck, sharp and possessive. "That so?" His fingers slid inside you then, two thick digits curling deep, stretching you in ways that had you biting back a moan.

"Fuck, Logan…" Your hips rolled against his hand, chasing that delicious friction, your body already wound tight again.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes smoldering as he watched your face twist in pleasure. "That’s it, doll. Show me how bad you want it." His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles that made your back arch off the bed, your breath catching in your throat.

You reached up, hooking your fingers into his belt loops, yanking him closer. "Fuck me," you demanded, voice raw, needy. You couldn’t take it anymore, the teasing, the way he kept pushing you higher without giving you the release you craved.

His grin widened, dangerous and dark. "Patience." But you felt the way he shifted his hips, the weight of his cock straining against his jeans.

"Fuck patience." You reached between you, hand bold as you cupped him through the denim, squeezing just enough to make him hiss through his teeth. His cock jumped in your hand, hard and ready. "I want you inside me, Logan."

That was all it took to snap his restraint. He let out a rough curse and pulled back just enough to shed his clothes, his jeans hitting the floor with a heavy thud. You watched every movement, eyes riveted to the thick length of him, pulsing and ready, the head glistening with pre-cum. He was so fucking hard it made your mouth water.

"Turn over," he growled, voice thick with command, as he yanked you up from the bed. You obeyed without hesitation, flipping onto your stomach, pushing your ass up for him, wanting to feel that heavy weight slide into you, to be filled so completely you’d forget everything but him.

Logan grabbed your hips, dragging you back against him. "Fuck, look at that pussy. So fucking wet for me, doll," he muttered, voice rough with desire. He ran the head of his cock through your folds, slicking himself with your arousal, teasing you again until you whimpered, pushing back against him.

"Please," you panted, desperate now, needing him to just take you already. "I need it, Logan."

He didn’t need to hear another word. With one sharp thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you wide around his thick cock, the feeling so intense it knocked the air from your lungs. You cried out, fingers clawing at the sheets, body taut as you tried to adjust to the sheer size of him.

“Fuck…” you gasped, your voice rough, the word a breathy moan as Logan began to move inside you. The stretch burned at first, but the way his cock filled you, the thickness pressing deep, made your entire body hum with raw, throbbing need.

Logan growled, the sound vibrating deep in his chest, primal. “Tight as fuck, doll,” he muttered, his hands gripping your hips like a vice, fingers digging into your flesh as he set a punishing rhythm, each thrust slamming into you, pushing you up the bed.

Every thrust had you keening, the pleasure dizzying, your mind blanking to everything except the way Logan filled you, stretched you, claimed you. "Logan… fuck, yes…" you moaned, hips bucking back to meet him, desperate to take him even deeper.

"Goddamn, you feel so fucking good," he groaned, voice gravelly, dark with lust. His pace quickened, his cock driving into you harder, each thrust sending jolts of electricity through your core, setting you on fire. He was relentless, the heat of him searing, his breath hot against the back of your neck as he leaned over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

You pushed back against him, arching your back to take him even deeper. "More," you gasped, voice hoarse with need. "Fuck, Logan, don't stop."

He didn't. If anything, his thrusts became rougher, more demanding, his cock pounding into you with a force that made you cry out, the sound a raw, guttural moan. His grip tightened on your hips, pulling you back onto him with every stroke, driving himself deeper into your soaked, aching pussy.

“Fuck, doll, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he growled, voice rough with need as his hips snapped forward, each thrust deep and brutal, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “You love this, don’t you? Love being fucked like this.”

“Y-yes,” you gasped, pushing back harder, your body desperate for more, for everything he could give you. “Fuck, yes, Logan!”

He let out a dark chuckle, low and hungry, and leaned over you, his mouth brushing your ear. “Good girl.” His breath was hot, his voice a growl as he pounded into you, hips slamming against your ass. “Such a good fuckin’ girl.”

You whimpered, the sound high-pitched and breathless, your body trembling beneath him, every nerve ending on fire. His cock stretched you to the limit, each deep, hard thrust sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you, driving you higher and higher, the pressure building, coiling tight in your belly.

“Logan… I’m—” The words barely made it past your lips before you felt yourself shatter, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, the pleasure so intense it knocked the breath from your lungs. You screamed his name, your pussy clenching tight around him, squeezing him so hard it drew a rough groan from his throat.

Logan didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his thrusts hard and unrelenting as he fucked you through your orgasm, driving you higher, deeper into that blissful haze. “Fuck,” he growled, voice hoarse as he felt you clench around him, your walls milking his cock, your body trembling beneath him. “You’re so fucking tight, doll… squeezing me so goddamn hard…”

Logan’s eyes were practically feral, his grip on your hips ironclad as he flipped you onto your back. You barely had time to catch your breath before his body was on top of yours again, pressing you into the mattress. The weight of him was heavy, grounding, but it did nothing to dim the heat burning between your legs.

His lips crashed against yours, rough and demanding, teeth nipping at your lower lip until you opened for him, letting him devour you like he had your pussy moments ago. His hand found your breast, squeezing hard, tweaking your nipple until you gasped against his mouth. You were slick with sweat, still trembling from the orgasm that had just ripped through you, but you wanted more.

“Logan…” You moaned his name, your legs falling open in invitation, your body still aching with need. The feeling of his cock, still hard and throbbing against your thigh, had you arching into him, desperate for him to fill you again.

He smirked down at you, one hand sliding down your side, brushing over your still-sensitive clit, making you twitch and gasp. “So eager, doll,” he growled, his fingers teasing your entrance, gathering the slickness there. “Didn’t get enough already?”

“You’ve been teasing me for months,” you shot back, your voice breathless but sharp, your hands grabbing at his biceps, pulling him closer. “About time you deliver.”

That earned you a low, dangerous laugh from him, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re a fucking tease,” he muttered, his fingers sliding inside you, curling in just the right way to make your back arch off the bed. “You think I haven’t noticed?”

You gasped, rolling your hips against his hand, already close again. “Fuck, Logan…”

He growled, his fingers pulling out suddenly, leaving you empty and aching. You barely had a chance to whimper before he was between your legs again, the head of his cock sliding through your folds, slicking himself up with your arousal. You were wet, dripping, your pussy still clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled.

“You ready for this, doll?” Logan’s voice was low, gravelly, as he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock teasing you, just barely pressing inside. You could feel the heat of him, the thickness that was about to stretch you again, and it made your head spin.

“Yes,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “Please, Logan, fuck me.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. With one hard thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you wide around his thick cock. You cried out, the feeling overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure as your body adjusted to him. He didn’t stop, didn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. He pulled back, only to slam into you again, each thrust deep, hard, and unrelenting.

“Fuck, Logan…” Your voice was hoarse, your body trembling beneath him as he set a punishing pace. He was so deep inside you, filling you completely, and every time he thrust, it sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, making you cry out, moan, beg for more.

“Goddamn, you’re perfect,” Logan groaned, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he fucked you into the mattress. His eyes were dark, burning with lust as he watched your face twist in pleasure, your mouth open, gasping for breath. “So fucking good.”

“Logan… oh god, yes…” You were babbling now, barely able to form coherent words as he pounded into you, each thrust driving you higher, closer to that edge again. Your nails dug into his skin, your hips bucking against him, desperate to take him even deeper.

Logan's lips curled into that feral grin, sweat dripping down his temples as he watched you lose yourself beneath him. "Fuckin' beautiful," he growled, hips snapping forward, burying himself balls-deep inside her. "Takin' me so damn good, doll. That sweet little cunt of yours—" His voice was hoarse, breath ragged as he kept pounding into you, the slap of skin against skin filling the room.

Your hands shot up to his shoulders, dragging him down until his chest was pressed to your, needing to feel him, all of him. "God, Logan… I can feel everything…" she whispered, voice broken with need. Your psionics were kicking in, amplifying the intensity between them, feeling his hunger, his desire, like it was your own. You could barely think, your mind a whirlwind of lust and pleasure.

"Yeah?" Logan's voice rumbled against your ear, low and dangerous, and he drove into you harder, grinding his cock against your G-spot. "You feel that, huh?" His lips brushed your neck, teeth grazing your skin just before he bit down, marking you. The rough scrape of his beard against your sensitive skin only sent you spiraling deeper into the haze of pleasure.

You whimpered, legs trembling as you wrapped them around his waist, heels digging into his back, trying to pull him impossibly closer. "Logan, fuck!" You could barely get the words out, your body on fire, every nerve lit up with need. Your pussy clenched tight around him, slick and hot, as his cock pounded relentlessly into you.

He growled in response, one hand moving under your head as he yanked your head back so he could look into your eyes. "Look at me, doll," he ordered, his voice a rough command. "Wanna see that pretty face when I fuck you."

The weight of him pressed you deeper into the mattress as his hips drove forward, cock burying into your slick heat, every inch of him making you feel like you were about to split apart, but in the best way. Your lips parted in a sharp gasp, your body jerking from the intensity. “Logan—fuck,” you groaned, legs trembling as you tightened them around his waist, dragging him even closer. His cock filled you, stretching you so perfectly that you couldn’t help but whimper, the sound ragged, desperate.

His lips curled into a smirk as he watched you struggle to catch your breath, watched you squirm beneath him, utterly wrecked and begging for more. “You feel that, huh?” His voice was a low, dangerous rasp. “Feel how deep I’m inside you? Every inch of my cock stretching this pussy of yours?” He leaned down, his teeth grazing your ear, sending a fresh jolt of electricity through your already sensitized body.

You were barely coherent, your nails digging into his shoulders, desperate to hang on as Logan’s rhythm grew faster, rougher. “Fuck, Logan,” you gasped, hips bucking up to meet his every brutal thrust. His cock slammed into you, hitting that sweet spot deep inside that had you seeing stars, your back arching off the bed, mouth open in a silent cry.

Logan grunted, his grip on your hair easing just enough to let you move your head, but he didn’t let you escape the intensity of his gaze. He wanted to see you fall apart for him, wanted to watch you lose control, knowing he was the one doing it to you. “That’s it, doll,” he muttered, voice thick with lust. “Fucking take it. Let me feel how much you want this.”

You whimpered, biting your lip as you struggled to form words. “I—I need more…” Your voice was raw, shaky, but still laced with that bold edge that had always kept Logan coming back, that constant push and pull between you. You could feel the heat building again, that tight coil in your belly about to snap, and you needed more—needed him to take you higher, harder, faster.

Logan growled, a sound so deep and feral it sent shivers down your spine. “Greedy little thing,” he muttered, pulling out just enough to leave you aching, empty, before slamming back into you. “I’ll give you more.”

You cried out, fingers gripping his biceps as your entire body rocked from the force of his thrusts. Every inch of your skin was on fire, every nerve ending lit up, all of it focused on where his cock was buried deep inside you, pounding relentlessly. “Fuck, Logan!” Your voice was a ragged moan, the words half-gasped as he drove you closer and closer to the edge.

“Yeah, you love this,” he growled, hips snapping forward with each brutal thrust, your body jolting beneath him. “You love being fucked like this, don’t you? Love how hard I’m fucking you?” His breath was hot against your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin just hard enough to make you gasp.

“Yes! Fuck, yes, Logan—don’t stop,” you begged, your hips bucking up to meet his, desperate to feel every inch of him as he filled you, stretched you. Your walls clenched around him, slick and hot, your body already trembling with the buildup of another orgasm. “I’m so fucking close…”

Logan’s grin was dark, dangerous, his eyes locked on yours as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Good girl,” he growled, his voice a rough command that made your entire body shudder. “Come for me, doll. Let me feel you come around my cock.”

His words were all it took. That tight coil in your belly snapped, sending you crashing over the edge. Your body convulsed, every muscle tightening as the orgasm tore through you, the pleasure so intense you couldn’t even scream. Your pussy clenched hard around his cock, milking him, pulling him deeper as you rode the waves of pleasure.

Logan groaned, his hips slamming into you harder, faster, driving you through your orgasm, prolonging every pulse of pleasure. “Fuck, Y/N…” His voice was hoarse, thick with need as he felt you tighten around him, your body trembling beneath him. His rhythm stuttered, his thrusts growing more erratic, more desperate.

You were still gasping for breath, your body still trembling from the aftershocks, but you weren’t done yet. Not even close. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling him even closer, feeling his cock pulse inside you. “Come for me, Logan,” you whispered, your voice low, seductive. “I want to feel you come inside me.”

That was it. Logan let out a rough curse, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrust into you one last time, his cock buried deep inside you. You felt him pulse, felt the heat of his release flood into you, and it sent another shiver of pleasure down your spine. He groaned your name, his body going rigid as he emptied himself into you, his breath hot against your skin.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you still catching your breath, still tangled in each other. You could feel the slick heat of your combined releases dripping between your thighs, but you didn’t care. You just lay there, wrapped up in Logan’s heat, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your chest.

“Jesus,” you finally muttered, your voice hoarse, breathless. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

Logan chuckled, low and rough, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Told ya, doll. I don’t do half-measures.” He lifted his head, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips as he looked down at you, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “But you didn’t either, did you?”

You grinned, still breathless, still riding the high of what had just happened. “Guess not.”

tags: @freythecrazyfae, @its-in-the-woods

[rangerbarbz]

Serving Up Romance

Author’s Note: Guys holy FUCK y’all have blown up my account!! Thank you all so much! I just can’t believe it like i'm going bonkers. Thank you so much for all your kind words and everything!! Also, I can’t believe I’ve never written for 80s Stan that’s crazy. (Also i know he’s never worn a denim jacket but i had a vision) 

“Serving up Romance”

You had been working as a waitress at Greasy’s Diner since you first moved to the strange town of Gravity Falls. While others might turn their nose up at waitressing, you loved it. You got the opportunity to know everyone in town, hear their gossip, and meet passer-bys driving through on road trips. You never knew who was going to walk through those doors or what incredible story they were going to tell you. One slow day at the diner, you were making a pot of coffee when you heard the bell above the door jingle. 

“Welcome to Greasy’s! Sit wherever you want, and I’ll be with you in just a sec,” you called out, pouring water into the coffee maker. You heard someone sit at the swivel stool behind you. 

“Take your time, doll. I’m in no rush,” a gruff voice responded. Hm. You didn’t recognize that tone. You turned around to see a man with dark brown hair in a white t-shirt and denim jacket, chewing on a toothpick. You noticed that there were patches of different fabrics and patterns all over the jacket. He hadn’t noticed you were looking at him because he was reading the small menu that was attached to the metal condiment holder. 

You smiled at him. “I like your jacket,” you complimented the handsome stranger. 

His attention quickly diverted to you. He chuckled. “Oh, this old thing?” He lifted up his arms to show off more of his patches. “Thanks. It’s been through the ringer let me tell ya. My ma taught me how to hand stitch so that any time I ripped it, I could fix it right up.” 

“That’s so sweet.” You reached out to point at one that was yellow with small, red flowers on his shoulder. “I like this one.” He looked over to see which one you were talking about and laughed. 

“That one I got from a motel pillow case! I accidentally caught my shoulder on fire.” You raised your eyebrows at him. His gaze became stern. “I learned to keep my distance from candles that day on.” 

You burst out laughing. “Now is this a true story?” you asked, propping your chin up on the palm of your hand. 

He grinned, moving his toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “True as you are pretty, sweetheart.”

You giggled as a blush started to spread across your cheeks.“Alright, slick, what can I get you?” you responded, removing a notepad from the front pocket of your apron. He picked up the menu and gave it a quick once over.

“Uh… Give me the bacon and eggs. Scrambled, please, and one cup of coffee.” You finished scribbling his order and turned to put it in the window. 

“Can I get a name for this order?” you asked, winking at him from the coffee pot. You began to walk back over to him with a mug of black coffee. 

He gave you a wide smile. “Stan Pines, proprietor of The Mystery Shack,” he answered, hand outreached to you in greeting. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, waitress at Greasy’s Diner.” You shook his hand; it was firm, calloused, and felt very nice against your smooth skin. You turned over his hand to take a look at his scarred knuckles you noticed when he was holding the menu earlier. You dragged your thumb over the puckered, white lines.

“You got fighting hands, Stan.” You gazed at him through your lashes and grinned.“Sexy.” Now it was his turn to be flustered. His face grew red at your bold statement and laughed nervously. 

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I, uh, used to box, and I’ve gotten myself into a fair share of…scuffles.” You gave him a small smile. You were about to comment on that until the bell dinged from the window signaling that his food was done. 

“Bacon and eggs are up!” the chef barked. His loud voice startled you which made Stan laugh. 

“Sorry, let me get your food real quick.” You let go of his hand reluctantly and went to get his plate. What you didn’t see was him smirking to himself and touching the scars you grazed. He couldn’t remember the last time someone genuinely complimented him. 

Things started to pick up after you served Stan his food, so you didn’t get to continue your conversation. However, you made sure that when he paid for his meal, you got to talk to him one last time. 

“Will I be seeing you again, Stan?” you asked, getting his change from the cash register. “You should come next Tuesday! We serve waffle tacos then.” He laughed as you dropped the coins into his hand. 

“Well, I obviously can’t miss waffle tacos,” he responded with a smile. 

“I’ll see you then. It was nice to meet you, Stan! Don’t go catching yourself on fire on your way out!” you joked as he began walking towards the exit. 

“No promises, doll.” 

Over the next couple weeks, Stan continued to come into the diner and sit in the same swivel stool as he did when you first met him. He ordered a different thing on the menu each time making it his goal to try everything you had to offer. Your conversations were playful, flirty, but, most of all, interesting. He had quite the colorful past, but that didn’t scare you off. In fact, it made you more intrigued. 

One day, during a particularly busy shift, Stan walked in as always. “Hey, hon!” you greeted him while placing a plate of pancakes in front of a fussy toddler. “I’ll be right with ya!” You then noticed he had one of his hands behind his back, and he seemed a bit nervous. 

He didn’t sit down this time, but instead stood at the cash register. You walked over with a confused expression on your face. “Stan? Are you not eating today?” 

“Um, well, no. Not today, doll. I, uh, wanted to give you these.” His face was bright pink as he presented you with a large bouquet of wildflowers. You gasped. “I hope you like them. I found a whole bunch of them in a field near one of the backroads.”

“Oh, Stan,” you said softly. You took the bouquet from him and held it gently, admiring it. “It’s just beautiful, but why?” 

He started to rub the back of his neck and looked down at his feet. “There’s a drive-in movie happening tonight outside of town, and I wanted to take you with me,” he murmured shyly. “I think you’re real nice and fun to talk to and you got a knock-out smile.” He paused. “I would…like to get to know you outside the diner.” He finally made eye contact with you to see your reaction to everything he had said. 

You hadn’t stopped beaming at him since he handed you the flowers. “Stan, I would love to join you.” You reached out to cup his face with your free hand and gave him a peck on his cheek, his stubble tickling your lips. “What time should I be expecting you?” 

His eyes widened at you, his hand touching where you had kissed him. “Um, I. The, uh, movie starts at 7:45, so I’ll pick you up at 7:00,” he stammered, face as red as his Diablo. 

“Sounds good, sugar,” you replied, giving him a slip of paper that you had written your address on while he was talking. “I can’t wait to see what tricks a romantic like you has up his sleeves.” 

Stan let out a giggle before quickly covering it up by clearing his throat. “I guess you’ll have to find out tonight. I’ll see you then, sweetheart.” He gave your hand a squeeze before walking out the way he came in. 

“I’m going on a date with Mr. Mystery,” you whispered to yourself excitedly, burying your nose in the bouquet. 

PART 2 COMING SOON

[xomakara]

Next Door To Forever

SUMMARY |  You thought you would never see the guy you'd have a one night stand with but when you meet Haechan again at a club and when you find out he's your neighbor, you can't help but be intrigued by him.

PAIRINGS | Haechan x Reader

GENRE |  college!student!Haechan, college!student!Reader, Nerd!Haechan, college au, one night stand, smut,

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, drinking, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (both male/female receiving/giving), public blowjobs, creampies, praise kink, pet names

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

LENGTH |  12,532 words

TAGLIST | @hisunflower

NETWORKS | @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Oh god, I hope this turned out okay. Maybe it's because I'm always the worst critic of my own work so I always never feel satisfied about it lol. Been awhile since I wrote a Haechan fic and lately, he (and Jaehyun) have been flooding my feed. I hope you all like it!

After moving the last of your boxes into your spanking new place that would be yours for the next few years of school, you flop down on the bare mattress in the middle of the living room that the movers left there. You were just thankful that they set up the frame. You really weren't up to doing any more heavy lifting and the mattress was the only thing left to do before the moving van left.

Your new place was located in an apartment complex that was a good distance away from the main campus. It was perfect for you because you weren't fond of all the ruckus going on in the dorms. You were a junior so the thought of having to live in a crowded building full of underclassmen was less than ideal. Plus you really weren't interested in going through all the trouble of trying to get roommates. So you decided to take this opportunity to live alone and get an apartment of your own.

Apartment hunting was no joke and you had been at it for almost two weeks until you finally found this place. It wasn't too far from campus but the price was right and the size was just perfect for you. The rent was pretty reasonable and it wasn't in a bad neighborhood.

You sigh as you stretch yourself out and lay your head on the pillow. You didn't have a TV yet or any furniture besides a mattress, a couch and a coffee table. That would be something you'd have to take care of later. Your phone rings and you pull it out of your back pocket and check the caller ID. It's your parents and you know what they're calling about. They're still trying to convince you to let them help with the apartment.

"Hi, mom."

"Hi honey. How did the move go?" Your mom's voice sounds through the speaker.

"Good. It's finally over." You speak into the speaker and run a hand through your hair, sweeping your bangs back off your face.

"We wish we could have been there to help." Your mom sighs through the receiver.

"It's fine mom. I managed." You sit up on the bed.

"Are you sure?" Your mom insists.

"Yeah, it's not like I had a lot to bring with me." You say as a look around the large empty space, save for the boxes lining the wall and the mattress that you are sitting on.

"Do you need anything? Any furniture? Food?" Your mom offers.

"Food would be great, mom. Thanks." You respond, suddenly getting the realization that you were hungry and hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.

"Your father and I are sending you a care package with some food, toiletries and other things you might need." Your mom says.

"Thanks." You smile, looking forward to the package. "You don't have to, y'know." You add.

"Don't worry. We'll also send the money that we would have used for furniture. Just go and get what you want and don't worry about the cost." Your mother says.

"Really, mom?" You ask, almost in disbelief.

"Yes, it's not a big deal." Your mother adds.

"But mom, you and dad are retired. I don't want to use your retirement money." You argue.

"Your dad won't take no for an answer. Besides, your brother and sister-in-law are sending you some money too." She explains.

You sigh in defeat. Your mom and dad had always been stubborn and they were hard-headed when it came to taking care of their kids. You didn't want to fight it, especially since it would be pointless. "Alright, mom. But make sure you take money from Minhwan-oppa and Nari-unnie too. I don't want you and dad spending too much money on us. I want you guys to spoil yourself once in a while."

"That's very thoughtful of you, sweetheart. We will do that. I'll text you when we send the package." Your mother replies.

"Ok, thanks mom." You say gratefully.

"No problem. Love you, honey." She answers.

"Love you too." You finish the call with a smile and lean back on the bed to rest.

You hang up and lay there in silence. It had been a long day and you were exhausted. You had been packing and moving for the last few weeks and the stress was starting to get to you. You were ready for a break.

Your phone rings again. It's your brother, Minhwan.

"Hey, oppa."

"How are you holding up, Y/N?" Minhwan says into the receiver.

"Tired but otherwise ok." You muttered. "Did mom talk to you? She's been on my ass about sending money to me."

"She mentioned it but I told her I wanted to talk to you first." He answered.

"Thanks, oppa. I appreciate it." You sigh gratefully.

"So, do you need anything? Money, clothes, food, whatever? I'm sending you an additional package with mom's." Minhwan tells you.

"Well, yeah. I need food and toiletries and stuff. But, I don't want to ask too much of you and unnie." You admit.

"Don't worry, I'll talk to Nari and we'll make sure you get everything you need. And I mean everything." Minhwan emphasizes the last word.

"Oppa..." You murmur, catching his tone.

"It's ok. You're our baby sister. Let us do this. Don't worry, we're not hurting for money. I'm a doctor and Nari is a lawyer, remember?" He laughs.

"Ok, I guess. But don't spoil me too much. I'm not going to be independent if you keep spoiling me." You frowned. "At least spend it on mom and dad. Buy them a trip somewhere or something."

"We'll take care of that too." Minhwan said. "But the money will be going to you first."

"What? But-" You stuttered, stunned.

"I gotta go, Y/N. Nari's calling me." You heard the unmistakable sound of her voice on the other side.

"Oppa-"

"I'll talk to you later."

He hangs up before you can say anything else. You sigh and close your eyes. You could use a nap right now.

Your stomach growls loudly and you sit up and stretch. "Well, I can't go to sleep now. Not until I eat something."

You stand up and grab your wallet, then head downstairs to the nearest convenience store. The streets were pretty quiet and there was a slight breeze. You could smell the scent of spring in the air and hear the rustling of leaves in the trees. It was a beautiful night. You reach the corner and turn onto the street where the convenience store is located. There are a couple of other college kids hanging out around the front door. One of them calls out to you as you walk past.

"Hey, Y/N!"

You stop and turn to look at him. It's Mark, a friend of yours that's in the same program as you, that also lives in the same apartment building. "Hi, Mark."

"What's up? Where are you off to?" He smiles at you.

"I was just gonna get something to eat. I just moved into the building, you know." You laughed.

Mark's eyes widened. "Oh shit. Was today moving day? Man, I would have helped you."

You shake your head and smile at him. "It's cool, I had a moving service come in and do most of the work."

"Nice. Well, if you need anything, let me know." Mark said sincerely.

"Will do. Thanks." You let out a laugh.

"Hey, what are you guys talking about?" Another one of your friends, Jaemin, approaches.

"Hey, Jaemin." You greeted. "We're just chatting. What are you doing here?"

"Getting some snacks for tonight. Jeno and I are watching horror movies at his place. Oh, wasn't today moving day for you? You wanna hang out with us later?" He asks excitedly.

"I'll pass. I'm tired and I still have stuff to unpack." You said, remembering the boxes stacked on top of each other.

Jaemin frowned. "Bummer. Maybe the gang will stop by and help you unpack."

You shake your head. "No thank you. I don't need Hendery and Yangyang causing a ruckus. Remember when we helped move into their place?"

Jaemin snorts. "How can I forget? The two were like monkeys, bouncing off the walls. Renjun almost got a black eye when Yangyang threw a shoe at him."

You laughed. "Yeah, that was pretty funny."

"Well, if you change your mind, give me a call. Or, if you're too tired, text me and we'll bring the movies over." Jaemin offered.

"Sounds like a plan." You smile.

Jaemin and Mark bid you farewell and you walk inside the convenience store. The fluorescent lights are bright and the music is too loud. You walk over to the frozen food section and pick out a few microwave dinners, a few bottles of water, and lots of instant ramen. You head to the cash register and pay for your food, then leave the store.

You make your way back to your apartment building and enter the elevator. The doors close and the elevator begins its ascent. The floor numbers blink as the elevator ascends and soon enough, the doors open again. You exit the elevator and head to your apartment. You keyed in your passcode and entered the small apartment. The lights were on and the air conditioner was working. You closed the door behind you and kicked off your shoes.

You put the microwavable meals and the bottle of water into the fridge, placed the bag of ramens on the counter and flopped onto the mattress that was still on your living room floor. You were exhausted. Moving was tiring but you needed to at least move your mattress unto your bed frame.

You laid there for a few minutes before getting up and dragging the mattress into the bedroom. You set it on top of the bed frame and began pushing the bed into the corner. It took a while but you eventually got it where you wanted it. You sat down and leaned against the wall, looking at the room. There were still a few boxes that needed to be unpacked but it was coming together. You felt satisfied and proud.

You stood up and headed to the kitchen. You grabbed a bottle of water and a packet of instant ramen. You poured the water into a pot and put the noodles in. You set the heat on high and watched as the water began to boil.

You looked around and sighed. You'd have to unpack more tomorrow.

You were too tired to think about it. You were ready to eat, take a shower, and crash for the night.

You took the pot off the heat and dumped the contents into a bowl. You rummaged around in one of the boxes that held your utensils and pulled out a pair of chopsticks. You sat down on the couch and began eating. After finishing the noodles, you went to take a shower. You stripped down and stepped into the bathroom. When you were done, you wrapped a towel around your body and headed to the bedroom. You rummaged through the boxes and found some clean underwear, a tank top, and a pair of shorts.

You put the clothes on and got into bed. It was only 8 pm but you were exhausted. You pulled the covers up and closed your eyes. You were asleep within minutes.

You wake up the next morning and check your phone. It was 9 am. You had a few messages and missed calls from your parents and siblings. You reply to their texts, telling them you were fine, and let them know that you were going to unpack.

You put your phone away and get out of bed. You go to the kitchen and start unpacking the rest of your dishes.

It takes you a couple of hours but you finally get everything in the apartment unpacked.

A knock is heard on your door, startling you. "Coming!"

You open the door and find Mark, Jaemin, and the rest of your friends standing in the hallway.

"Hey, guys." You say as you let them into your apartment.

"Yo, Y/N! What's up?" Renjun asks.

"Nothing much. Just finished unpacking." You tell him. The guys scan your apartment and whistle in surprise.

"That's good." Chenle says. "Need any help?"

You shake your head. "I'm good. But thanks for offering."

"Alright, well we're going out. Wanna come with?" Mark asked.

"Where to?" You furrowed your eyebrows.

"To a club. There's a new one that opened downtown and the guys are dying to check it out." Yangyang muttered.

"Dude, it's like noon. Isn't it too early for that?" You questioned him.

"That's why I'm saying we should go during the day. Less people, less lines." He reasoned.

"Hey, if we're gonna party, we gotta get there early. Gotta scope out the place and see if it's worth our time." Hendery smirked.

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes. "I'm gonna pass."

"Boo. Y/N, don't be a killjoy." Jisung whined.

"Do you hear something? Is the wind blowing or is it a ghost?" You ask, pretending to be surprised.

"Oh, fuck you, Y/N." Jisung retorted.

You burst into laughter and the others joined in.

"I can't believe you fell for that." You say, wiping tears from your eyes.

"You're the worst." He says, giving you the stink eye.

"Fine, I'll go with you all but come back at like 5 pm. I'm not going out at noon." You scoffed.

"Fine. Fine." They all muttered as they turned to walk away.

"And invite Jaehyun!" You called out.

"Boo! You just want to eye-fuck him all the time." Jaemin scoffed.

"So what?" You smirked. "He's hot. Can't blame me for appreciating a piece of fine man."

"Fine. I'll invite him. But don't get all touchy-feely with him." Mark frowned.

"Why? He's single. I'm single. What's the harm in having a little fun?" You retort.

"You're a player, Y/N." Mark sighed.

"You know it." You laughed.

"Just keep it PG-13, ok?" He says.

"No promises." You grin mischievously.

"Ugh. See you later." He says in defeat as he walks away.

They leave and you close the door. You spent a few hours organizing and rearranging your furniture and making sure that everything was in its proper place. You didn't have much to unpack.

You go to the bathroom and start getting ready for the night. You take a long hot shower and then blow-dry your hair. You put on some mascara and a light coat of lip gloss. You put on a tight black dress that showed off your curves and some black heels.

You check yourself in the mirror and are satisfied with the results. You grab your purse and head downstairs. Your friends are already there and are waiting for you.

"Hey, Y/N! Ready to get wild tonight?" Renjun smirked.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm always ready."

"Cool, let's go!" Chenle said.

The group heads downtown and walks a couple of blocks until they reach the club. The bouncer checks their IDs and lets them in.

The music is loud and the place is packed. The lights are flashing and the entire floor is moving. The place is dark except for the light over the DJ and the bar. Everyone is moving and jumping to the music. You see some kids from campus.

You take a moment to breathe in the atmosphere. The smell of sweat and alcohol hits your nose. The room is hot and humid and the sound of the music seems to vibrate through the floor. The bass is heavy and it pounds against your chest. You can feel the energy in the air and the tension. There's something different about being in a place full of strangers. You feel invigorated, alive. It's intoxicating.

"I'll get us some drinks." Yangyang said.

"Me too." Hendery said.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom." Renjun said.

"I'll come with." Jisung said.

"I'm gonna dance." Jaemin said.

"Me too." Chenle said.

"We'll find a table." Mark said. He grabbed your wrist. "Let's go."

The two of you push your way through the crowd and find an empty table near the back of the club.

"So, are you gonna try to hook up with Jaehyun tonight?" Mark asks.

"I might." You smirk. "Oh! Is that Ten over there?"

"You gonna try to hook up with Ten too?" Mark looks amused.

You shrug. "Maybe. Or Johnny. He's got some nice muscles, don't you think?"

"Y/N, you're unbelievable." Mark rolls his eyes.

"I'm a single girl with needs. Sue me." You laugh.

"I can't deal with you." Mark rolled his eyes.

You and Mark chat for a while, and then the others join you.

"Here, drinks." Yangyang hands out beers.

"Thanks." You grab a bottle and take a swig.

"Cheers!" Renjun says.

"To a fun night!" Hendery adds.

You all clink bottles and drink.

"Hey, I haven't seen Jeno around. Where is he?" You ask.

"He said that he's trying to drag someone out of hibernation." Jaemin rolled his eyes.

"Who?" Chenle quirked his brows.

"Haechan." Mark said, nursing a beer in his hand.

"Who?" You asked, confused.

"The guy who was with Jeno at the frat party. You remember him right?" He said, raising an eyebrow at you.

"I can't remember shit. I was wasted as fuck." You shrugged.

"Fair."

"So, where's Jaehyun?" You asked.

"Over there, talking to Ten." Yangyang pointed. "Hey! Where are you going?!"

The boys watched as you waved at them while you approached Ten and Jaehyun. They watched as Ten and Jaehyun gave you appreciative looks.

"She's unbelievable." Mark said, shaking his head.

"She's gonna hook up with both of them." Hendery stated, noticing the way Jaehyun snaked an arm around your waist.

"I bet she's gonna end up taking both of them home." Renjun scoffed.

"That's our Y/N. The best player in our group." Chenle sighed.

"What?" Jisung asked, confused.

"Nothing, Jisung. Let's just enjoy our night." Mark smiled.

Haechan didn't want to be here. He didn't like parties and he hated being surrounded by drunk people. He felt suffocated in the sea of writhing bodies that were all trying to bump and grind against each other. The music was too loud and there was an almost unbearable smell of sweat in the air. The lights were low and the whole atmosphere seemed oppressive. There were strobing lights flashing on and off that only seemed to disorient people further.

"Why did I let you drag me to this place?" Haechan muttered as he looked around the club.

"Come on, dude. Live a little." Jeno smiled. "Drink some booze. Relax."

"I'd rather stay home and read." Haechan replied.

"Dude, you need to get laid. When was the last time you got some pussy?" Jeno asked as he nudged his friend in the arm.

"A few weeks ago, remember? At that frat party? The one where I got too drunk and had a one-night stand with someone." Haechan rolled his eyes.

Jeno pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows, trying to recall the incident that Haechan spoke of. After a moment of silent thinking, Jeno looked at his friend. "Ah. Yeah, I remember. You were a mess that night."

"Yeah, thanks for that." Haechan muttered. "I can't believe you and the guys know her."

Haechan thought back to the night of that wild frat party. Jeno had dragged him along when Haechan tried to study at his apartment. They had arrived at the frat house and were immediately given red solo cups. They had joined the party, the sounds of hip-hop music pumping in the background. Jeno had chatted up the sorority girls and disappeared from Haechan's side. Haechan was left standing at the edge of the room, wondering what he was doing at the party.

He had gotten lost and had bumped into you. The alcohol in his system had loosened his lips and he told you the embarrassing story of how he was dragged to the party. You laughed at him and teased him a bit but soon, you began flirting with him. It didn't take long before the two of you had ended up back at your dorm room.

It was a drunken mistake. He remembered waking up with a pounding headache, a hangover that was more painful than anything he had experienced, and his clothes and underwear scattered on the floor. It had taken him a moment to realize that he was in your dorm, and another moment to remember why. The memories were blurred and faint but it didn't take a genius to realize that he had sex with you. And it had been a rough one judging by the bruises he found on his back.

"I can't believe you don't know her." Jeno laughed. "She's been friends with Mark and Hendery for a damn, long time before she met Jaemin, Yangyang, Renjun and me."

"And now she's friends with Chenle and Jisung?" Haechan wondered out loud.

"Yeah. She's cool, bro. You'll like her." Jeno winked.

"I doubt it." Haechan muttered. "She doesn't seem my type."

"How would you know? You didn't even know her name." Jeno cackled.

"Shut the fuck up." Haechan huffed. "It was one time."

"Come on. I'll introduce you." Jeno chuckled, walking off.

"Wait, no. Dude, come on." Haechan trailed after him.

"I won't tell the others that you two hooked up." Jeno laughed as he grabbed Haechan's wrist and dragged him over to the table where you and the guys were seated. "Yo, Y/N! Guys."

"Jenoooooo!" You called out. You were obviously tipsy and a little bit buzzed. 

Renjun tried to wrestle the bottle from you. "Give it up, Y/N. You're done."

"Oh, come on! Don't be such a party pooper!" You whined.

"Dude, stop hogging the bottle." Hendery muttered.

"Hey, Jeno. Hey Haechan." Mark greeted.

"Sup, Mark." Jeno fist bumped his friend.

"Hey." Haechan greeted, a little shyly.

"Glad you're out and about Haechan." Renjun smirked.

"Stop drinking." Mark sighed as he took the bottle from your hands.

"Noooooooo." You whined.

"Y/N, you're drunk." Mark stated, matter-of-factly.

"I'm fine. Just a little tipsy." You giggled.

"How much have you had to drink?" Jaemin asked, his tone stern and serious.

"I don't know. A lot." You confessed.

"Give me the fucking bottle." Jaemin said.

"Dude, you're cut off." Mark declared.

"That's what I told her." Renjun scoffed.

"Aww, you're no fun, Mark." You pouted.

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Mark muttered. He turned to look at Haechan. "Thanks for showing up. You haven't met Y/N yet, right?"

Haechan gives you a quick glance before turning away, and pretends not to know you. He avoids meeting your gaze because the incident from the night of the frat party made him feel embarrassed. It was a spur of the moment thing and he hated losing control.

"Ohhhhhhh, so this is the guy you were trying to drag out of hibernation." You hugged Jeno but then you furrowed your brows. You leaned in to look at Haechan. "Wait...have we met before?"

"Uh, I don't think so." Haechan stammered.

"Are you sure?" You narrowed your eyes.

"Yeah." Haechan said a little bit too quickly.

"Huh, weird. I swear I've seen your face before." You peered at the handsome face and then it dawned on you. Those eyes, those lips, the moles on his face and neck, the shape of his nose. It all clicked. Your eyes widened and the liquor-infused brain of yours recalled what happened that night. How he had felt inside you, how he had begged for your pussy, and how he had given you a world-changing orgasm. It all came back to you.

"Oh my god." You muttered.

"What?" Jeno asked.

"We've fucked." You said out loud.

"I'm sorry, what?" Haechan gawked at you, shocked.

"You're the guy that I hooked up with a few weeks ago." You said, realization dawning on you.

"Dude, Y/N, shut the fuck up." Mark muttered in disbelief.

"What the fuck?" Hendery gawked at his friends, confused. "You two hooked up?"

"How do you know it's Haechan?" Renjun asked.

"Like I would forget that beautiful constellation of moles." You muttered. "It's him. No doubt about it."

"Dude." Mark gave Haechan a look.

"Dude." Jaemin also gave Haechan a look.

"Dude." Hendery also gave Haechan a look.

"Dude." Chenle and Jisung gave Haechan a look.

"What?" Haechan asked.

"When the fuck were you gonna tell us you hooked up with a chick from our group?" Yangyang questioned.

"You guys were never supposed to find out about that." Haechan deadpanned.

"Well we know now and we're all very interested to hear the story." Yangyang grinned.

"Not gonna happen." Haechan retorted.

"Boo. So uncooperative." Yangyang pouted.

"Hey, I was drunk. I don't remember anything from that night." Haechan defended himself. "Besides, I've never met her before until today. She's not part of our group. So why should I have told you?"

"Bro." Jeno looked at him.

"Bro." Mark also looked at him.

"Bro." Hendery also looked at him.

"Bro." Yangyang and Jaemin also looked at him.

"Guys, shut up. I don't want to talk about it." Haechan muttered as he tried to walk away.

"Wait." You grabbed his wrist.

"What?" Haechan paused.

"Can we talk? Preferably far away from these idiots." You said, glaring at your friends.

"Hey!" Everyone objected.

Haechan sighed, not having much of a choice. "Um, ok."

You get up and Haechan follows. You drag him outside and head over to a bench. Sitting down, you looked at the random people milling around the club. The vibe was completely different from a couple of hours ago and you welcomed the change.

"So..." You begin.

"So..." Haechan mutters, looking everywhere but at you.

"I didn't mean to put you in an awful position like that." You said, looking down at your lap. "When I start drinking, I tend to lose control and I don't know how to filter what comes out of my mouth."

"It's fine. Really." Haechan shrugged. "It's not your fault. Besides, it was a one-time thing."

"Yeah." You nodded. "We were both drunk. We didn't know what we were doing."

"Mhm." Haechan hummed.

There was an awkward silence.

"Hey, look." You began. "I don't want this to be a weird situation. We both have a past and it was just a one-night stand. What happened, happened and we can't change that. We hang out in the same social circles and sure, this is the first time I've officially met you but that doesn't change the fact that I have a connection with you, in a way."

"I guess." Haechan shrugged.

"I'd like to be your friend. Would that be ok with you?" You asked, nervously.

"Yeah, sure." Haechan nodded.

"Cool." You smiled.

"Cool." Haechan said, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Hey, um, would you like to go somewhere else and just chill? I kind of don't want to go back in there and hear the guys talk shit." You laughed nervously.

"I don't blame you." Haechan lets out a small laugh. "They're a weird ass bunch."

"You can say that again." You chuckled.

"Where do you want to go?" Haechan asked.

"Let's go to a coffee shop. I need to sober up a little." You replied.

"Coffee sounds good." Haechan nodded.

"Great." You stand up and start walking away. "Let's go."

"Uh, ok." Haechan gets up and follows you.

You two walked side-by-side and talked about random things.

"I have to ask." You began. "How are you a friend of Jeno and the rest? I've been friends with Mark and Hendery since we were kids and we became close to Jeno, Jaemin, Yangyang, and Renjun through college. I know Chenle and Jisung because they're sophomores and they hang out with Renjun and Yangyang. But how the hell do you fit in all of this? You don't really seem like the partying type."

"I'm not. Jeno dragged me to the club." Haechan said. "And as for why I'm friends with the guys, we met through a gaming app and then we met in real life and we just hit it off."

"Wow. I would've never expected you to be the gaming type." You chuckled.

"I'm a nerd." Haechan shrugged.

"Well, I don't think that's a bad thing." You replied.

"It's not?" He asked, surprised.

"Nope. I think nerds are super cool. And it's good that you have a passion. Even if it's gaming. And, I'm not saying that gamers are losers or anything. That's just my personal opinion." You clarified.

"Thanks." Haechan gave you a small smile. "I appreciate that."

"Anytime." You grinned.

The two of you continued walking, enjoying each other's company. After a few minutes, you arrived at the coffee shop.

"This is the place." You said as you opened the door.

"Cool." Haechan followed you inside.

You ordered your drinks and then found a table near the window. You're really glad you found this shop. It's cozy and warm, the smell of coffee is inviting, and the interior is very comfy, reminding you of an old coffee house in an old tv show.

"This place is nice." Haechan said as he looked around.

"Yeah, it's one of my favorite places to hang out." You replied.

You both sipped your coffee and made small talk. Haechan couldn't help but look at you every now and then.

"What?" You asked, catching him staring.

"Sorry." Haechan blushed. "It's just that, um, you're really pretty."

"Really?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah." Haechan muttered and took a sip of his drink. "Sorry, was that too forward?"

"No, no, not at all." You said, blushing a bit. "I'm just not used to hearing that."

"Really? I've been seeing people checking you out at the club." Haechan blurted out.

"They were probably drunk and not thinking straight." You waved it off.

"Maybe. Or maybe they just have good taste." Haechan smiled.

"Maybe." You smiled back.

Haechan let out a small smile. "You're different from what I expected."

"Different how?" You asked.

"I didn't think someone as outgoing as you would be interested in someone like me." Haechan said.

"What do you mean by that?" You tilted your head.

"I don't know, I just figured you'd be more into the popular crowd. You know, the athletes and the rich kids. Not the nerds and the losers." Haechan muttered.

"I used to be a nerd too, you know." You laughed. "Way before I started partying and dating and all that. Back in middle school and high school, I was the definition of a nerd. I had braces, glasses, wore sweaters, and kept my hair in braids."

"Really?" Haechan couldn't believe it.

"Yes. But once I got to college, I wanted to reinvent myself and try new things. And so I did. But just because I like partying and going to clubs and bars, it doesn't mean I can't still be a nerd and have my own nerdy interests." You took a sip of your coffee. "Sure, folks see me as that wild girl or the one who gets around. But they don't see the whole picture. And besides, I like to think that everyone has layers to them and it's just a matter of finding those layers."

"That's true." Haechan said. "I never thought of it that way."

"What about you? You're the type of guy that I never thought would be friends with the guys. Jeno is a party boy and the rest are just wild." You mused.

"I know." Haechan chuckled. "But when you have something in common with someone, you just click."

"True." You agreed.

"They're good people though. Even though I want to stay in and play video games all day, they managed to drag me out of my shell." Haechan says, smiling softly. "They make me feel included and that I belong somewhere. I appreciate that."

"That's good." You said, smiling. "So I know Jeno dragged you to the frat party and all, but did you have fun at least?"

"Yeah, I guess. The food was good." Haechan jokes, laughing lightly.

"The food was the best." You agreed.

"I'll admit, I wasn't a fan of the loud music and the crowds." He shrugged.

"That's understandable." You nodded. "It was a frat party. They're all the same."

"True." Haechan laughed. "I don't think I would've stayed long if it weren't for the food and the alcohol."

"You're a lightweight." You teased.

"I am not." Haechan pouted.

"Sure, sure." You laughed.

You and Haechan continue to chat for a bit and eventually, you two have finished your coffee.

"So, are you ready to go back?" You asked.

"If you are." Haechan said.

"Not really, to be honest." You chuckled, making the boy smile. "I kind of wanna stay here and just be away from the guys. And talk to a cute boy. Or am I being too forward?"

"Uh." Haechan was shocked and blushed a little.

"I guess that was a bit too much, huh?" You felt embarrassed. "Let's just go back."

"Wait." Haechan took your wrist.

"Huh?" You were surprised by the sudden action.

"I wouldn't mind talking to you longer." Haechan admitted.

"Really?" You asked.

"Yes." Haechan blushed again and turned away, muttering.

"Ok, then." You were laughing and Haechan couldn't help but stare. The way your eyes lit up when you laughed. It was mesmerizing.

"Come on." You stood up. "Let's go. We have all the time in the world to talk."

Haechan's lips tugged upwards and he stood up too. He walked with you outside. You kept on looking at Haechan and then suddenly stopped and paused, biting your lip. Haechan caught your action and his breath hitched.

"Are you ok?" Haechan's breath was haggard.

"Maybe we should go back to the club..." You suggested.

"Are you going to drink?" Haechan tilted his head.

"Hell no. I'm done drinking for tonight." You shook your head.

"Good." Haechan smirked. "Because I have an idea."

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow.

"You said you're a nerd. And I happen to be a nerd as well. Why don't we hang out and play some games?" Haechan suggests.

"I'd like that." You grin.

"Cool." Haechan smiled. "Come on. My place isn't too far."

You made your way to his place, noticing the familiar signs and landmarks. This all looked too familiar, and not just because you're drunk. This is the path you've walked on countless times before. In fact, it led straight to your own home.

"Hey, I didn't know you live in this complex." You pointed out.

"Oh, yeah." Haechan scratched the back of his neck.

"I live here too." You grinned.

"No way." Haechan was surprised.

"Yes, way." You laughed. "I just moved here a few days ago."

"I had no idea." Haechan remarked.

"I guess fate works in mysterious ways." You shrugged.

"That's for sure." Haechan agreed.

The two of you continue walking, enjoying the night breeze.

"I'll admit, I was nervous when Jeno dragged me to the club earlier." Haechan said. "But I'm glad he did. I never would've gotten to know you otherwise."

"Same." You smiled.

The two of you made your way to the elevator. Once the doors closed, you couldn't help but take notice of how close you were standing to each other. Your shoulders were brushing and you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"It's weird how we live in the same building and we didn't know each other." You mumbled.

"Well, now we do." Haechan gave you a shy smile.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. You blinked a few times and stared at the hallway that you knew quite well.

"This is my floor." You muttered.

"Yeah, this is my floor too." Haechan said. He pointed to his door. "I'm down that way."

"No way! We're neighbors." You said with a surprised face. "I'm right next to you!"

"Are you serious?" Haechan laughed and shook his head in disbelief.

"Yeah! Now we really have no excuse to not be friends." You said, nudging his side.

You and Haechan looked at each other, both trying to hide the smiles on your faces.

"No wonder I've been hearing noises in the apartment next to mine." Haechan muttered. "It was you."

"Oh, yeah. I'm sorry. I've been moving a lot of things in and there's a lot of noise." You rubbed the back of your neck.

"It's fine. I'm used to loud noises." Haechan says, waving off your apology.

"I promise I won't disturb you too much." You assure him.

"No, no. It's fine." Haechan said, a smile tugging on his lips. "I actually don't mind."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

You smiled.

"So...would you like to come in?" Haechan asked.

"Sure." You said.

You and Haechan walked towards his door. You waited as he unlocked it.

"Welcome to my humble abode." He said.

"Thanks." You said as you entered his apartment.

The first thing you noticed was that it was very clean and organized. The second thing you noticed was the massive television screen that covered the entire wall.

"Wow." You said. "This is awesome."

"Thanks." Haechan smiled.

"You have a really cool set up." You said as you took in all the details.

"It's all I have. My life revolves around gaming, after all." Haechan said.

"Ok, what are we gonna play?" You asked.

"Why don't you pick something out?" Haechan gestured to his bookshelf. "There's a bunch of games over there."

"Really?" You walked over.

"Yeah, sure. Anything you like." Haechan said as he removed his jacket.

You went to his bookshelf and checked out the various titles. There were a lot of game titles you've seen before and even more that were unfamiliar to you.

"Hmm, how about this one?" You said as you pulled a case from the shelf.

"Oh, that's a good one." Haechan smiled.

You spent the night playing games and having fun. At one point, you were both so immersed in the game that you forgot how late it was.

"Oh my god, it's three in the morning." You gasped.

"Oh, wow." Haechan looked at his watch. "Time flies when you're having fun."

"Yeah, it does." You nodded.

"Do you want to crash here?" Haechan offered.

"Sure." You nodded. "Too tired to go to my place even though it's next door."

"Alright." Haechan laughed. He stood and made his way to his bedroom and returned with blankets and a pillow. He put them on the couch. "You can have the bed."

"No, no. I'll take the couch." You said, feeling guilty about taking his bed.

"Nuh-uh, I'll be fine on the couch."

"Haechan." You stood up, planting your hands on your hips. "I can't let you sleep on the couch in your own apartment."

"Why not?" Haechan shrugged.

"Just- It's not right." You didn't know how to explain without sounding stupid.

"I'll be fine." Haechan reassured you.

"Are you sure?" You asked, worrying.

"Positive." Haechan said.

Without a fight, you didn't argue any further. He led you to the bedroom. It's simple and cozy. Nothing super fancy, but the furniture is modern and stylish. It also smells of him. That familiar musk and sweet scent, which oddly relaxes you. He has a queen-size bed, a couple of posters hung up on the wall, and a desk and a chair.

"So, goodnight." Haechan says before he turns off the lights. "Sleep well."

"Night." You smiled.

Haechan turned off the lights and went to sleep. You stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. You were so excited and happy to finally have met Haechan. You were also curious about him and couldn't wait to learn more.

As you slowly drifted off to sleep, you smiled, thinking about your new neighbor.

And how the two of you will be spending a lot of time together from now on.

"So you ended up spending the night at his place?" Mark asked hours later as you met up with him and Hendery after your afternoon classes ended.

"Yeah." You nodded, unable to hide the exhaustion from your face.

"And you're saying you stayed up late playing games and not fucking?" Hendery asked, his eyebrows raised.

"We just played games." You shook your head.

"And nothing happened?" Mark tilted his head, questioning.

"Nothing." You shrugged.

"Damn, girl." Mark laughed. "Who are you and what happened to Y/N?"

"I don't know." You sighed.

"Did you like him?" Hendery asked as he opened his soda and chugged it down.

"Yes. But I'm not gonna do anything about it." You shrugged.

"Why not?" Mark asked.

"I'm not that kind of girl." You shrugged.

"You are." Mark and Hendery said in unison.

"Look, I'll admit that I have a reputation, but I'm not the kind of girl that goes for every guy she sees. And besides, Haechan and I had a really great time last night." You shrugged.

"Aww, look at our little Y/N being all mature and responsible." Mark said, pretending to cry.

"Shut up, Mark." You scoffed.

"You're growing up, Y/N." Hendery wiped away a fake tear.

"Just shut up. Both of you." You rolled your eyes, walking faster. Your friends just laughed and teased you even more.

Meanwhile, Haechan is spending the day trying not to think of you. But how can he when you're literally the only thing he's ever thought of?

Haechan knows it's stupid of him to believe you two were destined to meet. And yet, after one night of passion, the universe decided to play a trick on him and place you in the same building, mere inches away from each other.

Haechan didn't really expect anything the morning after, although he had a pretty nice time with you last night. But when he wakes up the morning after, the first thing he thinks of is how he wants to see you again, even though the two of you are not even dating and your one night of passion might be just that.

There's just something about you that draws him in and makes him want to be around you more. And the funny thing is, it wasn't just a physical attraction. No, Haechan wants to learn more about you. Wants to hear you talk about whatever you're passionate about. Even if that meant hearing you ramble on about something he barely understood or even didn't know.

However, being the shy nerd he is, Haechan has no idea how to act and what to say to you. He doesn't want to come off as needy or pushy, but at the same time, he wants to spend more time with you. He knows how you like it loud and wild and how much fun it is for you when people are around. But he's seen that side of you and you know the person behind those glasses. The real person who's a nerd, just like him.

He remembers the conversation you had with him the night before as clear as day. About you once being a nerd and how people didn't know about your gaming skills and interests. He can't help but find you more attractive when he's learning more about you. Your nerdy interests, the way you play video games, your humor. And he loved the fact that the two of you can bond over those things. It made him feel special, like it wasn't easy to come by. He's usually the first one to shy away from most people, but not with you.

A loud ring echoed through the air as Haechan snapped out of his thoughts and stared at his laptop.

"Sorry about that." Jeno quickly picks up his ringing phone, trying not to disturb his friends. "Hello?"

Haechan watches as Jeno walks away while on the phone. Jaemin, Renjun and Yangyang are too engrossed in their game, barely paying attention to him. Haechan decided that now was the best time for him to talk with them. "Guys, I need some advice."

"About what?" Renjun asks.

"Is it about Y/N?" Jaemin asks without missing a beat.

"What?" Haechan gasped. "How did you—"

"It's written all over your face." Jaemin deadpanned.

"Oh."

"Come on, just spit it out." Renjun nudged him. "Do you like Y/N? Because she has that effect on most of our male species, let alone on guys from other colleges."

"I mean...you guys like her, right?" Haechan hesitantly asked, his face heating up.

"Yeah. But it's not like we're gonna fuck or anything." Yangyang asked, clearly confused.

"She's a free spirit." Jaemin smirked. "She can do whatever and whoever she wants."

"I don't...look I just..." Haechan let out an exasperated breath.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's just hear it." Jeno returned as soon as he hung up.

Haechan looks at each of his friend's faces, trying his best not to blush.

"Well," He says, fidgeting with his sleeves. "It's...it's just that Y/N is awesome." He stammers.

"No shit." Jeno chuckles.

"No, really!" Haechan exclaims. "And last night was so much fun with her."

"Did y'all fuck again? You were in such a good mood this morning, it wouldn't surprise me at all." Renjun says.

"No, we didn't!" Haechan shakes his head. "We spent the entire night playing games."

"Oh, I was about to tease you so hard, man." Renjun fake cries.

"Well, I liked hanging out with her and we played games all night, but there was nothing sexual or anything like that." Haechan said quietly.

"Oh." All of them speak in unison. They exchange confused glances and turn their attention back to the gamer before them.

"How can someone be that cute, man?" Haechan pouted.

The guys blinked.

"What?" Haechan furrows his brow.

"Haechan...you're okay, right? Like, mentally, are you okay? Physically?" Jaemin asked as he reached over to place his palm against the nerd's forehead. "Are you sick?"

"Yes. Yes. Yes. And yes, Jaemin, I'm fine. No, I'm not sick, thank you very much. No fever." Haechan slapped Jaemin's hand away.

"Seriously, man. We haven't seen you this cheerful and all smiles ever since...ever." Jeno furrowed his eyebrows at Haechan, confusion written all over his face.

"I have to make sure, dude. Because this isn't like you. You don't fall for people this easily. Especially after one night, mind you. And I've never seen you like this...ever." Jaemin shook his head at him.

"Come on." Renjun spoke for the first time. "Tell us everything and we can give you some feedback."

"Uh..."

"And be detailed." Jeno winks.

Haechan let out a long sigh before he explained everything that happened last night. How you both went to get coffee,  going back to his apartment, finding out that you were neighbors, playing and talking about video games, and crashing at his place. He even explained what happened this morning where the both of you said goodbye.

Once he finished explaining, his friends all stared at him in disbelief.

"Wow..." Jeno shook his head. "So, no sex, huh? Really?"

"Really. That's the first thing you ask?" Haechan asked incredulously. "Yes, really! For once, I wasn't the nerd that sat on his ass while playing games. For once, I had a good time! What, am I supposed to have sex every time I go out?"

"No, but—" Jeno starts.

"Listen. When Y/N and I were playing, I couldn't stop smiling. I had the time of my life with her and she made me feel great, and not because I got laid." Haechan looks at his hands and sighs. "What I'm trying to say is that I haven't felt that way in a long time. Just knowing that she's here, just an inch away and not at the club where there are a thousand other guys waiting for the same treatment. I couldn't have it any other way. Does that make sense?

Renjun smacks Jeno upside the head before anyone can respond to the question. "Dude, Haechan has a crush!"

"Ow. And finally. Took him long enough." Jeno grunted and rubbed the spot. "Now we can tease him even more."

Haechan blushed profusely. "I-I wouldn't call it a crush. Just because we had a good time. Like, yeah, she's hot, and a gamer and super chill, but—"

"Did you just call Y/N hot? Damn, you really are gone." Jaemin said.

Haechan slapped Jaemin's arm. "Shut up."

"But, like, have you ever considered that this could work?" Renjun asked.

"Have I...what?" Haechan started.

"Look." Yangyang says. "You guys fucked before. You guys are neighbors now. You guys clearly have the same interests. Kinda. And you are both available. Plus, you two seem to have this connection. So why not give it a shot?"

"Yeah." Jeno said as he took a sip of his coffee. "Besides, it'll keep you out of your bedroom."

"Or get you stuck inside a bedroom." Renjun snickered.

Haechan shoots him a death glare but doesn't say anything.

"What are you guys planning to do now? Just hang out? Play video games? Do the do?" Jaemin asked, smirking. "Just try to enjoy the rest of the semester and have fun with her. Who knows? It might even lead to more."

"Yeah." Renjun shrugged. "Besides, it doesn't hurt to get closer. You're both single. Might as well shoot your shot."

"Yeah, okay. Sounds fair." Haechan sighed. "Thanks for the advice, guys."

"Yo, that reminds me." Yangyang's face lights up as he opens his backpack and pulls out a pair of tickets. "Haechan, why don't you take Y/N to this?"

Haechan eyes the tickets suspiciously. "What is it?"

"It's a local convention. All these nerds are coming out. You know, for video games and comics and shit. If Y/N likes these things, then this is a perfect date." Yangyang smiles.

"I guess it's pretty interesting." Haechan picks up a ticket to examine the details. He tried not to smile at the thought of seeing you there. "Do you really think Y/N would enjoy going there?"

"Maybe, I don't know. What's stopping you from asking her though?" Yangyang asked as he raised his eyebrows.

Haechan looks down at the tickets and then to Yangyang's face, a slow smile spreads on his face. "Thanks, dude. You're right. It wouldn't hurt to invite her."

You let your gaze wander as you glanced at the crowd and wondered when was the last time you attended something like this. A comic convention filled to the brim with cosplayers and hardcore geeks and nerds. Some fans even had merch with their favorite characters, while others just came for the sake of it and maybe even for a date or two.

You caught a few people from your college as they had fun and watched a panel on some show or another, while some of them are doing some sort of art, reading a book or checking out the games that are in store. There is even a special guests section in one corner. You shook your head in disbelief, thinking how lucky you were that Haechan even let you tag along, seeing that it was usually impossible for you to buy tickets these days, seeing that the queue to get these is always filled and you are lucky enough to even have the chance.

Your gaze moves from the crowds around you to the person standing next to you, or rather the person you are currently leaning onto. You see that his eyes are also roaming around the crowds and that the people next to him are chatting, not paying attention to you.

"See? Didn't I say that it would be awesome to have you here with me? So far, we haven't even had any awkward conversation and we aren't bored, like my friends were yesterday. It's totally worth getting out of my apartment." Haechan exclaimed, a huge grin on his face.

You couldn't help but smile and give him a side eye, glancing at his side profile. Haechan is kind of adorable, with his big, thick, round, black glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles and the dimples that are displayed every time he opens his mouth or when he speaks. It makes your heart skip a beat and butterflies erupt from the pit of your stomach. His pink, soft and full lips are also incredibly kissable and make him look very sweet and innocent.

"Totally, Haechan. We could stay here forever." You say with a laugh.

"You think?" His eyes sparkle with amusement.

"I know." You bump his shoulder playfully. "Maybe we should come here together the next time one of these comes by. What do you think?"

"Definitely." Haechan says eagerly, smiling widely.

"Cool. But since this is just the first time that we've come here together, what do you want to do now, Haechan? Go shopping or take pictures? Or maybe we can watch a couple of the shows in the main hall. I bet you are really looking forward to this." You ask while pointing to one of the posters in the convention area.

Haechan thought for a moment before replying, "To be honest, I would have loved to see some panels. But we can shop too. How about you? Are there any artists you are interested in?"

"Sure." You agreed, looking back at him with a smile on your face, "It's totally okay to want to go and have fun. As long as we don't get lost, let's shop for whatever. I'm cool with anything, Haechan."

"Alright," he agrees, letting you continue leading the way.

"Hmm...Should we go and see what this year has to offer?"

The two of you start walking around and look at all of the new books that have been published, including the special ones with artwork in them. Some of those are signed, which is a huge bonus to collectors or those who can afford it. After a while, the both of you decide on the comics that interest you the most and buy two copies of each to make it easier. You also pick up a few books for your respective shelves in your apartment, the ones that you are sure will be treasured.

You wandered to a booth that was selling some adult content and flipped through a few comics. You bit your bottom lip as you read a pretty steamy scene on the page that you flipped open and imagined you and Haechan doing the same positions as the characters on the page.

"Found a comic that caught your interest?" You look up to find a smiling Haechan standing next to you.

"What?" You raise one brow and look over at the comic before placing it back on the table and walking a short distance away. Haechan watches you walk away but grabs the same comic that you put back down and flips the pages. Once he lands on the page that caused you to bite your bottom lip, he understands why you put it back down.

He blushes deeply as his eyes scan the steamy artwork.

He shut the book closed. "Um...are you ready?" He calls out, holding the book tightly.

"I'm almost ready," you tell him as you approach him, placing a few comic books in your shopping basket, "I need to decide between the second one or the third one."

Haechan grabs the adult comic and tosses it in the basket without you noticing and leads you to the cashier to purchase it. You never noticed and you were never aware that it was in your basket. Haechan was so stealthy that he managed to pay for the whole basket before you even noticed.

After walking for a while, you needed to use the restroom and pulled Haechan with you. Luckily you found a restroom with no stalls and after pulling Haechan into the room, you locked the door behind the both of you. Once he realized that there were no stalls, he turned red with embarrassment.

"Did you drag me in here because of that adult comic?" He questioned, fidgeting his hands in front of him nervously, biting his lip.

"Maybe. I saw that you picked it up while I was grabbing my things. Thought you were sneaky, huh?" You smiled as you walked up to him and grabbed hold of his hand, pressing it against your stomach. "Haechan?" 

You looked into his brown eyes as you pushed his fingers down under the waistband of your skirt. He sucked in a breath.

"Do you...uh..want to try it out?" You asked while grabbing the belt loop on his jeans.

"Try it out..." he repeated slowly. "Like right now?"

"Well...I mean...we're here..."

He was silent for a minute before looking back up at you. "...yes" he nods.

You pushed him to sit on the closed toilet seat and drop to your knees in between his spread legs. You stare up at his innocent expression.

"Fuck, I can't believe we're doing this in a public restroom," Haechan said, watching you slowly unbuckle his pants. You smirked, knowing exactly what he was getting at.

"What? Are you shy?" You ask softly.

Haechan narrowed his eyes, and you unzipped his jeans, pulling them down, along with his boxers. Then you raised your eyes and gave his crotch a quick glance, noting the size, girth, shape, color. When he noticed the way you were admiring him, he tried to hide his reaction, but ended up covering his face with his left hand.

"Haechan...we've already done it." You point out.

"Not with the lights on and with both of us sober..." he muttered under his breath.

"Shh..." you cooed gently, reaching for his length and stroking gently.

"We could get caught," Haechan murmured, still peeking down at you from his hand.

"I locked the door, it's okay."

"I don't think..." he mumbled again as he began to squirm.

His penis was growing in your grip as it hardened. Haechan shuddered when your thumb rubbed along the tip.

"Still embarrassed?" You ask quietly, kissing the base of his penis. You hear him take a shaky breath as you kiss all along his length, feeling his thighs tense as he tries not to move too much. He's holding back. You liked that.

"Yes," he responds a little breathlessly, and you lick the slit at the top of his dick, "Oh fuck," he murmurs and you hear the sound of his head hitting the tile wall behind him. You take the head in your mouth and begin to suck, sliding down his length inch-by-inch until he's deep in the back of your throat. His hand slides around the back of your head. His breathing becomes irregular and he moans as you begin to bob up and down.

Haechan didn't moan, or whisper encouragement, or try to control your motions with his hand, like you've experienced with past sexual partners. He allowed you to set the pace and you sucked and licked at your own speed, while he made quiet moaning noises as if he was trying to stay quiet but couldn't help himself. That drove you to push yourself harder, try to make him lose control. You wanted him to cry out, to grab the back of your head and make you swallow his entire cock as he exploded down your throat. You were almost aching as you swallowed around his cock.

It wasn't until you moaned quietly with his penis filling up your mouth and his tip hitting the back of your throat that Haechan moaned louder and gripped onto the back of your head.

"Ugh, Y/N." He groaned your name, tightening his grip and making your head bounce a little faster than you were before.

"Don't stop, god, you're gonna make me..." his hips suddenly rocked up into your mouth as he held your head there and you felt his body tense and his cock began to throb as he came in the back of your throat.

Haechan held you there and released in several spurts, nearly hitting your gag reflex at the back of your throat, but not enough to cause it. When you felt his hold lessen and his penis beginning to soften, you finally swallowed his semen. Then, you let his penis slowly slide out from your mouth with an audible 'pop.'

Looking up at Haechan, his cheeks flushed pink and his eyes half lidded and staring into the space above your head, he looked blissful and happy. That caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach and the beginnings of arousal to settle in between your legs.

Pulling his boxers and his jeans up, Haechan sits up a bit and blinks and the world comes back into focus.

"That..." he said.

You grinned cheekily. "Good?"

Haechan leaned down and pecked you quickly before whispering, "Thank you."

Your heart skipped a beat at the sweetness of that action. He really is adorable, you thought.

"Let me return the favor in the car, okay?"

You could only nod, knowing your panties are already soaked and wanting to ride his cock already.

A week after attending the convention, the two of you are hanging out in your apartment. You and Haechan are seated side by side and are currently gaming, sitting with each other in your living room. You are watching the TV screen and pressing the buttons on the console's gamepad, immersed in the game. On the television, you are fighting a boss battle against an over-sized monster. You and Haechan sit silently as the fight plays out, neither one of you daring to talk as the game has become quite intense. After a few more minutes pass, the big, final boss is defeated and you let out an exhale, throwing your controller beside you with an exasperated grunt.

"Fuck." You say, with a mixture of happiness and frustration. The game was fun, but frustrating. Haechan nods in agreement as he removes his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"Wonder what Mark and the others are doing right now?" You asked.

Haechan opened his phone and scrolled through the list of messages. "Looks like they're headed to another frat party. Wanna join?"

"Nope. Early lecture tomorrow." You mutter. "And I was kind of hoping to spend some time with a cute nerd," You said and placed a small kiss on Haechan's nose.

"Good, cause I was really hoping to get to know that cute girl better." He whispers, smiling. You felt butterflies flutter in your stomach at his confession and your lips couldn't help but tug up into a grin.

You settled in to watch a film, Haechan had chosen some B rated comedy that you'd already seen ten times.

Halfway through the movie you felt his arm circle your shoulders and instinctively moved into his body, curling your legs up, wrapping your arms around his waist. His warmth and scent, instantly comforting, reminding you how safe you felt when wrapped up in his embrace. You hadn't realized, as your focus drifted onto how good it felt having him near you, how comfortable it was just to sit with him like this, that the feeling was returned in kind. His body relaxed a little, allowing him to settle deeper into the sofa cushions, while his thumb gently stroked against your shoulder, soothing both of you in equal measure.

Losing all awareness of the movie and your mind switching off from any task that might ordinarily pull at your focus, you simply enjoy the feeling of his warmth. At least you thought, you were both lost to the moment, as it wasn't long before his fingers brushed against your throat and up over your jaw to capture your chin. Gently, he tilts your head towards his, and you notice how his breath has quickened just the smallest amount. You can't help but feel the fluttering in your belly from that, as well as his warmth and the softness of his eyes in the darkened room.

There are only a couple of inches separating your lips. He slowly closes the gap, waiting for you to pull away. When you don't and instead lean into the softest kiss imaginable, he hums softly into your mouth. It's slow, teasing and almost lazy. A total opposite from the eager, impassioned lust of your first encounter together. His tongue explores the corners of your lips and across your teeth while he nips, sucks and nibbles lightly at your full lower lip. He tastes of mint toothpaste, his breath, and something sweet and earthy. It sends your senses into overdrive. Your fingers comb gently into the soft strands at the back of his neck. You need this, you've never wanted anyone quite as much as you want him right now.

It's so unfair really; that no one could make you this hot by simply brushing his lips over yours and then along the edge of your ear. His tongue tracing across your sensitive skin just behind your earlobe. That a single kiss to your throat was all it took to have you gasping, tingling all over and so turned on. And yet, you wouldn't change a thing.

“Can I taste you?" He whispered hoarsely, in a deep husk and you couldn't hold back a shiver of anticipation. "Every inch of you?"

How could you say no? And more importantly why would you. You nod with a tiny gasp and are rewarded with another light brush of his lips to yours. 

Oh, god. You couldn't stop now even if your life depended on it. And maybe it did. You felt so desperately out of control, as his tongue played lazily with yours, his lips suckling and nibbling on yours until you could do nothing but melt into him.

“Haechan…” Your breath hitched, barely able to speak, your mind swirling and intoxicated. “Do you want to spend the night? There's no reason for you to go back to your apartment. We could, um...keep this going, if you want..."

“Okay..." Haechan said softly as you stood up and pulled him towards your bedroom. The bed was a mess as you pushed him down on his back.

Haechan reaches down to pull his t-shirt off, and you straddle his legs, fumbling to undo his zipper as quickly as possible. In no time, you were both fully nude. Your lips and tongue meet Haechan as you roll over. He was straddled over your hips and was staring down at your naked body, licking his lips slowly.

"You're beautiful." Haechan breathed softly, tracing his fingertips delicately over your neck, collar bones, and shoulders. Goosebumps appeared in the wake of his touch and you closed your eyes and whimpered a little, tipping your chin up.

He captured your lips softly and slowly in a hot kiss that quickly turned fierce.

He moves to kiss the side of your face, and down to the base of your earlobes. Slowly his hot breath trails lower, over your chest and stomach and even lower. When his head settled between your legs and your breathing picked up, and you got up onto your elbows to look at him. Haechan made eye contact, looking so sweet, cute, and totally irresistible as he was positioned down between your legs.

A few seconds of heavy breathing and you decided you wanted his face against you, immediately. So you fisted one hand in his hair and tugged, getting his attention. Haechan quickly learned how to give the most incredible tongue kisses; just slow enough to tease you and enough pressure that it made your back arch. He kept at it with alternating soft and firm licks; swirls of the tongue that alternated with broad flat-tongue swipes along your wet pussy.

Haechan paused, breath hot and mouth still so close.

"Does it feel good, when I lick you like that, baby? Let me hear it, too. I've been dying to taste your perfect pussy and make it gush," Haechan spoke gently.

"God, where'd you learn to talk like that??" You gasp.

"In your books." Haechan pointed towards the pile of adult comics on your dresser.

You swallow. "Well keep going, because it's really fucking working."

"Tell me what to do next," Haechan said and sucked hard, while rubbing slow circles over your clit with one finger.

"Fuck me with your tongue," You breathe, and Haechan happily complies. You're absolutely soaking as Haechan makes good use of his hands as he flattens his tongue over your clit, then flutters his tongue against it. When his fingers dive inside you, your grip tightens and you tug his hair.

"Yeah. Haechan...keep touching me. Just like that," You tell him, a little breathlessly. You try to keep eye contact as you rock into the movements of his hand. When his fingers curve to find that spot inside you, your breath catches in your throat and you can't help it as your eyelids flutter closed for a moment. Haechan responds by latching his lips around your swollen, throbbing clit and suckling a few times.

That action combined with the internal pressure of his fingers pushes you over the edge. Your hips thrust wildly against his mouth and a strangled sort of whine leaves you, followed by gasps, groans, and mewls of pleasure.

When Haechan's hands finally fall from your thighs and he looks up at your flushed face, he chuckles softly. Haechan crawls over you, and presses his face in your hair, placing soft kisses down to your shoulder. "Good girl," he purred.

"Haechan," You said breathlessly as he lifted his head up, grinning. He moved down the bed slightly, positioning his throbbing dick between your wet folds. The sensation had your spine arching, your inner walls contracting around the emptiness, desperately searching for the fullness of him inside you.

You gasped as Haechan moved forward and eased himself inside you, stretching and filling you until you felt that intoxicating fullness. You stared up at his features and he blinked slowly, keeping his gaze steady on you, watching and gauging your reaction. You chewed on your lower lip and clutched at his biceps, nails digging into flesh and dragging down his arms.

"Move," You whimpered. His soft chuckle caused an excited chill to run up your spine and a sweet moan to leave your lips.

Haechan leaned down to kiss the side of your neck as his hips moved with his thrusts, his penis burying itself inside you with short, swift strokes.

The friction was heavenly. Each time the tip of his length touched against the end of your slick pussy, and withdrew again, he caused more ripples of pleasure to shiver across the surface of your skin. You shivered against the sheets below you, your eyelashes fluttering, his name leaving your lips in soft cries.

You opened your legs wider and wrapped them around his waist to let his length push into you more easily. You raised your hips off the bed, grinding yourself up against him. This elicited a groan from him, and your thighs clenched around him more tightly. The tips of your breasts rubbed against his chest and tickled. It felt so, so good...

"Haechan...please..." Your moans continued as his hands gripped at your thighs, spreading them further apart as he slowly increased the speed of his thrusts. "Don't stop, baby...fuck..."

His breathing grew rougher and shorter. Your fingernails scratched down his sweat-slick chest. Every time he sank his cock deep inside you, you could feel his tip kissing up against a pleasurable spot and it caused sparks to explode inside you. You were panting, crying out. Haechan could feel your hips lifting off of the bed to match his every thrust as his grunts and moans grew deeper and more lustful. You were so incredibly close, and by the look of his handsome, strained face, he wasn't far from finishing either.

"Fuck. Yes, Y/N...that's it. Say my name," Haechan uttered, his gaze now burning right into yours, and his body shaking a little. "Don't fucking stop saying it...I wanna hear your sexy voice telling me how good it feels when I fuck you."

The pulsing between your legs intensified and before you knew it, the familiar shudders rushed up your torso and shook every part of your body. "Yes, Haechan, right there, fuck. You feel so good. Don't stop! Don't stop!"

You felt his hips start to lose their rhythm. You closed your eyes and drew a deep breath.

"Oh god, baby, Haechan...just like that," You spurred him on, clinging to his shoulders. He gave a few particularly fast, desperate thrusts before groaning and pulsing inside you. That feeling sent you over the edge and you called his name, nails raking down his back and fingers gripping the sheets so tightly you swore your knuckles were turning white. 

Haechan kept rocking slowly inside you and he brought his palm up to the center of your stomach and circled his fingertips over the surface, rubbing down into your lower abdomen. You shuddered pleasurably at the contact.

"Don't take it out, stay," You told him quietly, eyes sliding closed, and you breathed out heavily through your nostrils. He murmured incoherently and continued massaging your lower belly while keeping himself buried deeply inside you. 

After a short time, Haechan pulled out slowly, leaving his warm semen to slowly drip out of you.

He made his way up to you and brought you close, draping his arm over you to keep you by his side. "Hmmm, you're so pretty...But let me ask you something."

"What?" You yawned and shifted over to rest your head on his chest, nuzzling into his warmth.

"Can we keep doing this? Like regularly?" Haechan asked and combed a hand through your hair.

You sit up and open an eyelid. "As in...?"

"You...me..." Haechan waggled his fingers. "And us having sex, together."

You laughed softly. "Seriously Haechan?"

He gives an innocent look. "It's not the worst idea, is it? We have a great chemistry, obviously."

You turned on your stomach and faced him, smiling. You brushed some of his sweaty hair off of his forehead. "I love chemistry."

Haechan smiles back and shifts closer, pressing your noses together. "So...?"

Your response came out a soft whisper. "Yeah."

"So, you're basically gonna be my fuck buddy?" Haechan tilts his head, raising an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes. "How about your girlfriend? Hmm?"

"I'll take that option." He smirks and grabs you for a kiss. "So...shower first or sleep first?"

"Shower and then sleep sounds nice..." You trailed off and rested your hands over his around your chest.

He gave you a squeeze and a nudge to your rear to get you moving. With a grumble you threw off the sheets and followed him, making your way to the bathroom for the first of many wonderful nights together.

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 6

WC:1288 Masterpost CW: Self-esteem issues, past abuse, past experimentation, past starvation

“Hey Kid,” Jason said after he knocked on the door. It may have been left open a crack for safety reasons, but Jason still wanted to give the kid as much privacy as they could with all this.

The kid looked up at him from the bed with wide, startled eyes.

Right.

“I’m the one with the helmet.”

“I, yeah, same outfit,” the kid mumbled but didn’t look any less wide eyed.

Jason held back a sigh “Can I come in?”

“Sure, yeah,” the kid said as he forced himself to sit up against the wall with shaky arms.

Jason took the seat that Tim had used and kept a careful distance between them, even as he leaned forward and clasped his hands. “I want you to be honest with me, Kid, because you feeling safe here is the most important thing. I’ve made some soup and I’d like you to eat it and some bread, but if you don’t feel comfortable eating something I made we can do am MRE instead. That way you can know it’s still sealed.”

“No. I mean, no to the MRE. Soup sounds…” the kid had to stop and swallow. “That sounds really good.”

“Okay, Kid,” Jason said with as gentle of a voice as he could manage right then. “It’s only going to be a small portion to start, just to give your body time to adjust, but you keep it down and are still hungry there will be more. Whenever you’re hungry there will be food, I promise, and you don’t have to do anything to earn or deserve it. You can just ask whoever is around. Hell, when you’re well enough to walk around you can get anything you want from the fridge or pantry, okay?”

The kid nodded slowly, but that wide eyed look was back. Jason was going to have to warn the others about making sure that the kid ate and knew that he had free access to the food. They should get some granola bars, chips, and bottled drinks for the kid’s room too, but only once they knew the kid wouldn’t gorge himself.

“And just to check, any allergies or restrictions? I made the soup vegan, just to be safe, but it’s got some corn starch as a thickener.”

The kid shook their head.

“Good. After you eat, if you feel up to it, it would be good for you to take a bath or shower. But if you can’t,” Jason gave a little shrug, “that’s fine too. It can be another time.”

The kid shook his head. “I want to. I mean, if I can, I want to. A shower sounds… really good.”

“Yeah, I bet it does. I’ll go get you that soup and a sports drink. I know it’s going to suck, but we’re going to want to track you staying hydrated so you’ll be drinking lots,” Jason warned to another answering nod. He closed the door most of the way behind him again as he left the bedroom.

“He was awake then?” Dick asked softly when Jason moved to fill up a bowl.

“Yeah. Hey, can you start a log? I want to track what the kid eats and drinks and when,” Jason said.

“What’s the starvation concern?” Dick asked with a little frown as he tapped on the tablet.

“Right now I’m worried about the kid not believe he can eat whenever he’s hungry, so we’ll have to keep asking. But we need to watch for gorging. Lots of small meals often right now.”

Dick nodded. “Okay. I’ll make the log and set a silent alarm for whoever’s with him every hour. Did you talk about moving safe houses?”

Jason shook his head as he place two bowls and a plate of buttered bread on a lap tray. “We’ll let him get fed and through the shower first, maybe even another nap.”

“We don’t want him to get too settled here,” Dick pointed out.

“But we also don’t want to spook him,” Jason countered.

Dick just sighed. “Fucking timing.”

Jason opened his mouth—

“And if you make a dick joke right now I will throw something at you, little wing, I am not kidding.”

Jason help his hands up in surrender for a moment before he picked up the tray and headed back to the bedroom. He knocked with his foot before he pushed the door open.

The kid had fixed the bed while Jason was out of the room. He even straightened up the mess of tools that Tim had left.

It made Jason’s stomach turn over.

“You didn’t have to clean up,” Jason said, hoping to let the kid know he didn’t have do work to stay. “Red leaves a mess wherever he goes.”

The words had the opposite effect and the kid ducked his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Jason soothed. He’d have to mention this to the others too. “It’s nice not to accidentally step on a screw or something, just that you didn’t have to. Can I set the tray on your lap?”

The kid nodded and scrambled to straighten back up. Jason was careful not to touch him as he set the tray down and made sure it was balanced.

“So I divided the veggies up differently. Which bowl do you want?”

The kid’s eyes darted between the two bowls and then up to Jason, as if trying to find the right answer.

“I don’t mind either,” Jason added, casually as he could, and sat on the bed next to the kid. “I can get more if I want it. Hell, I probably will. Spoiler always says I’m a bottomless pit with how I eat.”

Slowly, the kid reached out to scoot the bowl more more potato chunks closer to him. He glanced up at Jason from under the messy white bangs. Jason just smiled and took the other bowl for himself. He blew on a spoonful of soup before starting to eat. A beat latter, the kid did the same.

Jason ate steadily, setting a rhythm for the kid to follow, and the kid was mimicking him. It was almost like the other didn’t even know how to eat any more. For a moment, Jason had to close his eyes and breathe. The Pit Rage wasn’t what it used to be, but there was a still an anger that could burn inside him and when it did, it burned so fiercely hot. Right then, it wanted to burn whoever did this to the kid to ashes. Jason didn’t much want to stop it, but he wouldn’t risk scaring the kid for vengeance.

Not when this was his new little brother.

(He wasn’t going to mess up this time, not again.)

The sound of the spoon scraping softly against the bowl next to him trailed off. Jason kept eating, focused on his own bowl, so not to call note to it. He’d like the kid to eat a little more, but he wouldn’t push it. He’d push so little with this kid, not outside of keeping him safe.

When the barely there weight settled against Jason’s side, he froze.

Slowly he turned his head as little as possible.

The kid was tipped over, head pillowed against Jason’s arm, sound asleep.

Jason reached up with his other hand and tapped his comm twice. Dick was at the door in a flash, silent despite having obviously run. The alert bled out of Dick as he took in the sight and his face split into a grin. Silently laughing, Dick raised the tablet still in his hands and started taking photos.

Jason flicked him off for the next shot.

Damn brothers.

---

AN: Another mostly soft Trauma Tuesday! But my is poor Danny messed up... at least he has his big brothers looking after him! (Even he doesn't know that part yet.)

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe here!

[jjenthusee]

Bets and Blindfolds

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: this started out as a silly idea, then ended up as my first dabble into smut? guess that’s the magic of october. ENJOY :) let me know your thoughts on the first 18+ on this account. For those who don’t read smut, we will be back to regularly schedule angst and fluff soon 😌

Summary: As a Dr. Pepper lover, Jason judges your expertise in the soda and it gets kinda freaky? (Don’t judge me, this spiraled)

Tags: sorry to all the dr pepper haters, actually no i’m not sorry, unhinged fic, please don’t take my blog away from me, i was actually drinking a pepsi while i wrote this 👨🏽‍🦳, serial kisser jason, clingy jason?, blindfolds 😏, kitchen freakiness lol, crack fic but also smut?, i must include fluff cause its ingrained in my veins, MDNI 18+ only, no specifications on reader, let me know if i implied any

Word Count: 4.6k

“No, Jay, it’s wrong.” You couldn’t mask the stubbornness in your voice, this was where you drew the line.

“Sweets, I think you’re just hangry.”

Jason sat across from you at a table, the bustling noise of the hole in the wall restaurant around him as he tried to reason with you.

“Look at the color, it’s not dark enough and the flavoring is off.” You eyed him, irritation making your voice fluctuate as you pointed to your drink.

Jason looks down at the cold glass of carbonated soda placed on the table between you. The ice cubes floated in a perfectly fine glass of Dr. Pepper.

“Right.” Jason looked back up at you, unamused at your unwavering need to prove to him that you are a connoisseur of the soft drink.

“You’re judging me, but I’m not backing down on this.” You leaned back in your chair, distancing yourself from Jason despite the limited space.

“Sweetheart, we can get you another drink if you don’t like it.” He reached out to try to pry your hand from your arms lazily crossed in front of you.

You fought against his calloused hand by keeping your arms firmly in place. Only wavering in the soothing rubs on your forearm.

But you were stronger. You’ve grown mentally.

Jason spoke again at your silence.

“Look, I’ll ask them to get you another glass.” He slowly reached his hand up to wave down the man who took your order.

You suddenly reached forward to slam his hand back down, timidly looking back to the man who thankfully never saw Jason’s hand.

Only briefly glancing back at the ruckus you were causing.

“Are you crazy? I’m not a monster, Jay. I can’t send it back, I’ll drink it.” You whispered loudly, not even willing to consider replacing your drink.

In an intoxicating lean, Jason enveloped your hand in his, still amused at the lightning speed you threw his hand down.

“If you wanted to hold my hand that badly, you could’ve just asked Sweets.” Jason smiled into your intertwined hands, kissing the back of yours.

You were about to argue back when you noticed the employee bringing your food. Quietly, you slurped down the unsatisfactory drink through your bent straw.

“Two house specials.” The man sat your plates down, looking in between the grinning expression on Jason and your irritation masked in a polite smile.

After you exchanged “Thank you’s” to the employee, you released your hand from Jason’s warm ones.

“Don’t think we’re done with this conversation cause our food is here.” You took a bite of your food, satisfied in the taste.

“I still don’t believe there’s a difference in the taste.” Jason looked at his food, handing you napkins.

Taking the single sheet, you dabbed at your mouth.

“Says the man who will eat anything you throw at him. You're not a reliable source.” You continued to eat.

“This is a lot of talk for someone who can’t stand certain textures of food—”

“Hey! Well…you're not wrong, but I can prove I know what I’m talking about.” You interrupted Jason, clear offense at the direct verbal shots he was taking on your food preferences.

“How?” Jason raised an eyebrow, enjoying edging at your competitiveness. You rarely got this worked up over many things, but food was always your trigger.

No matter the outcome, Jason felt like he won seeing your new quietly enraged reactions. Maybe affectionately picking on you would be his new favorite hobby.

“Bottle, can, fast food dispenser.” Your fingers raised at each choice you listed. “I can tell the difference.”

You mischievously smirked as you wiggled your three fingers at Jason.

“That’s only three, we need to up the stakes.” Jason watched your face barely falter. “Add zero sugar and have two different fast-food places.”

Jason lifted your last two fingers on your hand, totaling your full list to five Dr. Pepper choices.

“All or nothing, Sweets.” Jason intertwined his fingers again at your raised hand. You didn’t return the gesture as you contemplated—weighing your options.

“Whoever wins gets to buy dinner tomorrow.” Jason swayed your hand, you still didn’t reciprocate his hold, but he didn’t mind as he watched your head turn in thought.

When he felt you grip his hand back, Jason held back a smirk. You clasped his hand in an unconventional handshake, sealing the bet.

“Deal.” You brought his hand to your mouth, kissing the back of his like he did to yours earlier.

Once the bet was put aside, your excitement was in your need to finish your meal. You wanted to get the things on your way home and bicker more at your partner while you laughed and smiled into his arm.

You were thrilled as you stopped at individual fast-food joints and a store to gather each of the sodas on your way back to your apartment. The fast-food employees stared at your collection of drinks despite there only being two of you, but an underpaid worker has only so much care before they’re satisfied in you handing over some cash.

When you placed down all the choices on your kitchen counter, Jason disappeared into the bedroom. Grabbing a thin shirt of his, he folded it to be used as a perfect blindfold.

When you placed straws in each of the containers you nearly jumped out of your skin when you had realized Jason appeared quietly next to you.

With a hand over your heart as you felt your rapid heartbeats, you spoke.

“Jay, your steps remember?” You breathed out, trying to stay still despite how frightened you were at how quiet he can appear.

“Oh, right, sorry. I just brought this so you couldn’t see the choices.” Jason held up the folded shirt to your eyes, tying it to the back of your head.

Your vision went completely dark as you stood near your counter.

The sudden blind fold had you reaching out for Jason with hesitation, but in a quick grasp of your hand, Jason stepped closer. Guiding your hand to his arm.

“I’m right here, Sweets.” He kissed the side of your head.

You quietly smiled to yourself as you felt more secure in the darkness.

As you stood, you could hear Jason switching the can, bottle, and other containers.

As you patiently stood and thought about your current situation, it seemed silly that your night out had ended like this.

But who else would endure your last-minute shenanigans?

“Okay, it’s ready. You have five straws. No touching the containers and the straws are all the same height so no cheating.” Jason spoke as he waved a hand in front of you, making sure you didn’t react.

“Yes sir. I’m ready for the taste test.” You saluted playfully.

After the initial sips, you had narrowed down the test between the last two selections. Unsure which was the bottle and can.

In a sudden boost of pressure, you started to second guess yourself before you took a final sip to decide.

“Wait! I need a palette cleanser, get me some water.” You waved out to Jason.

“Okay, okay. Stop waving your hands, I’m right here.” Jason smiled through his words.

Once the glass was placed in your hands, you sipped the water, carefully washing out the sugary taste in your mouth. Then you took the final sips.

“I’m locking in my answers.” You nodded in agreement with yourself. “Dr. Pepper Zero, the can, fast food option one, the bottle, and the second fast food.”

You smirked. Staring in the wrong direction of Jason.

“I’m over here and your wrong—“ Jason triumphantly stood next to you, smiling at your blindfolded face.

His face was going to hurt from all the smiling by the end of the night.

“What!? No—“ You protested, swinging your body at his voice as the unconscious need to playfully nudge him took over.

Jason couldn’t help himself and laughed, watching you lose your mind at his obvious lie.

“I’m kidding, you got them all right you psycho.” He smiled at your face lighting up despite being half covered.

You threw yourself into Jason again, feeling for his face as you pecked him on the edge of his lips. Happiness radiating off your body as you couldn’t wait for dinner tomorrow.

In your surge of excitement, you slightly bounced at the bases of your feet. You couldn’t see, but Jason was slowly following behind, waiting for the right moment to grab your hand.

Between your moments of glee and celebration, your fingers locked with Jason’s, pulling you back into his muscular body.

It felt solid, secure.

While you basked in the touch of your lover, Jason gazed down at you. Watching the crown of your head as you nuzzled into his shirt. Tracing the blindfold as his thoughts bounced in his head.

You were leaning your head against the slow thumps of Jason’s heart. Tiny pulses that you felt on the side of your face.

Jason reached to you, his fingers hooking underneath your chin to lift your face to him.

In your blindness, you would struggle to freely move about, wondering if you were going to bump a corner, but in this moment, you knew Jason was drawing near.

He pressed a full kiss to your lips and you paused, relishing in his initiation.

The kiss was brief, so soft that you two stood still, faces still so close to let it settle in the air.

You smiled from the feeling, being held, and his pulse slowly rising as your fingers laid on his chest.

Jason, love drunk on you, stared shamelessly at your lips. Eyes glossy as he nuzzled his forehead to you, somehow trying to morph your skin together.

His hair frayed, growing messy at the back-and-forth motion.

You chuckled at the feeling.

“Jay, let me—“

Your thought was never finished before he leaned his head further to the side, his jaw crooked at the right angle to capture your lips once again.

He had taken advantage of your mouth opening to speak as he let his tongue press into yours.

New, deeper sounds were leaving your mouth and his.

Your thoughts were vanishing by the millisecond.

Each time he pressed into you further, you felt your body and head move as well, and you would let him guide you anywhere.

“You taste like Dr. Pepper.” Jason playfully complained, pulling away briefly, but your mind was entirely mush by his exhilarating, yet precise kisses.

He continued to gently hold your face, slowly rubbing his fingers against your skin, despite his complaints. He could say all he wanted, but his flushed ears and the intensity in his eyes looked ready to numb your mind one slow kiss at a time.

“You take that back or we’re breaking up—”

Jason pulled your face closer, cutting off any further teasing threats and wrapping his hands around your accusing finger you pointed at him.

You felt your hand and arm go limp at his touch.

“I actually really love Dr. Pepper.” He immediately responded, leaning into you. You were still blind folded as he pushed you back, getting closer to the kitchen counter.

“Lies.” You answered back in between smooches, nipping at his bottom lip, stirring at his need to keep the leisure momentum.

Jason had lost the bet, but he was celebrating way more than you were.

He suddenly dipped your body back, taking you by surprise as he continued to capture your breath. The pressure of his body into you was euphoric, giving you a small taste into the thoughts he was having, at the possibilities he was setting for you tonight.

It was nice until you were digging your lower back onto the edge of the counter. Tiny rubs against your back that you ignored, but it still ached.

Sensing your discomfort, Jason leaned you back into him away from the counter. He briefly leaned down to let his arms wrap underneath your legs to lift your whole weight into him.

You grabbed onto his biceps, balancing yourself until you tried to feel for the counter underneath you.

While you were momentarily in the air, Jason admired you, taking the chance of your covered eyes to just stare. To let him relish that he was holding someone so precious, so important to his happiness that he didn’t know what else to do but kiss into your shirt, directly over your heart.

A sacred, long, drawn-out kiss was placed to the center of your chest. It held all of Jason’s silent “Thank you’s” to whatever brought him to this moment.

Feeling the warmth, you cradled Jason’s head into your arms, letting your fingers rub at the spot of his neck that you know held a lot of tension from his helmet.

You gave a final kiss to Jason’s hair before you were sat on the top of the counter, your legs dangling off the edge.

Jason’s breathing was becoming hasty, built up from the emotional highs of your shared love and intimacy that he was losing control of his want to take this night slow.

As he silently dealt with his internal struggles, you were focused on trying to feel for Jason.

Your hands met the fabric of his shirt, letting your hands move up his chest as you concentrated on the mounds of each muscle on your fingers and palms.

Each dip and lift making Jason’s chest rise and fall more abruptly the more you moved.

He was supposed to be taking your breath away, but you were the one unknowingly and effortlessly taking away his.

Jason’s head had leaned back to control his thoughts, his veins had bulged in his neck at how tense his body was as you let your hands roam free.

He no longer had any more patience to spare if you continued this a second longer.

While he fought with himself, you felt the hands he had placed on your legs rub harder into you. Each press made your body flinch at the pressure.

You were getting antsy.

When you got to Jason’s collarbone, you traced the curve of his bones. Slowly dragging a finger.

You took a sharp breath when Jason squeezed your leg a little more fiercely, causing the sound in your throat to cast out an unfamiliar voice from you.

You were going to shut your mouth, but Jason had already lifted one of his hands to cup your jaw, tilting your face to the side. Pivoting your faces in opposite angles trying to get even closer than you already were.

You felt his tongue again, but the ferocity of it was immensely different from his previous kiss.

That one was patient, calculated.

This was carnal, desperate.

You were enjoying this new side of Jason. He was always deliberate, intentional, and ready for the unknown, but what he was giving you was raw, hungry.

In another squeeze to your leg, you brushed your hips forward, silently begging for another one of his intoxicating presses.

Without a moment's hesitation, he obliged. Moving his hand further up your leg to give you a firmer grip as he pressed his face into your neck, trying to leave a mark on your skin.

Too lost into the feeling, you threw your head back in the pleasure, bumping your head into the cabinet behind you.

The slight pain had knocked you back into reality.

Jason had quickly lifted his head at the sound, as he held your head.

You laughed at the change in atmosphere, letting Jason nurture your head to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away.” Jason apologized as he panted. The tension in your shared touches not fully gone from him.

You smiled, knowing in your heart that he was worrying too much about you.

“It’s okay.” You lightheartedly soothed him, going back to the intoxicating rubs you had on him earlier. Rubbing at his muscular arms, leaning in to kiss where you could.

You kissed his shoulder and his neck to slowly ease him back into the desire you had for one another.

It was slow, but effective in calming Jason.

“Are you sure?” He hummed, closing his eyes to focus on your touch again.

“Mm.” You kissed up his neck.

Before you could get to his jaw, you leaned in to suck a little harder on his skin, swirling your tongue on the flesh that you hoped would bruise.

Jason lowly gasped at the tiny prick at his throat.

He tried to muffle his sounds, but he didn’t last long before he lightly panted at your soothing peck.

When you reached his face, you kissed his chin, his stubble tickling your own skin.

The feeling boosting your own pleasure at the man held on the palm of your hand.

You licked into Jason’s mouth, moving your arms around his neck to pull him to you.

You continued to kiss him, going back to the languid tension.

In a small pop between your mouths, Jason spoke, slow and relaxed.

“If this is how we act to a small bet, I wonder what would happen if I took you to the Dr. Pepper Museum.” Jason smiled against your lips, speaking in-between longing pecks.

“There’s a museum?” You asked in awe, impassively scratching at the back of his neck, earning yourself a drawn out breathe from him. “Might have to put a ring on you.” You carefully leaned back into the cabinet as Jason kept up his kissing shenanigans on your neck, collarbone, and your arms.

You laughed as the kisses became playful nips at your skin.

“Proposing at the Dr. Pepper Museum? And they say romance is dead.” Jason placed one last mark on the inner of your wrist, completing the affection in a final kiss on your ring finger.

“In Dr. Pepper shirts.” You cradled his face in your hands at your suggestion, smiling at the sudden pause you felt from your lover.

“Oh no, I love you, but we need to draw a line now.” Jason laughed, low and relaxed as he basked in the touch of your hands on his face. Your hands pricked at the subtle itch of his stubble under your palms.

“Your limit is the shirts? That’s where you draw the line?” You laughed back as you reached up behind your head to loosen the knot of the T-shirt covering your eyes. “Just take off this blindfold so I can see you.”

“Nuh uh. I’m not finished yet.” Jason stopped your hands. Gently bringing them above your head.

Your wrists were caught between his singular hand, very loosely, but who were you to try to deny the man his plans?

You were curious how he wanted to continue the night.

With your hands raised above your head, you could focus on the feeling of his hands dragging down your body.

His fingers pausing, opening buttons and zippers to reveal more of your skin.

Each time a new portion was revealed, he kissed the hot skin.

Your senses were elevating each time you felt his lips press down. It was a new feeling that had you gasping.

He lowered himself down further and further. Taking advantage of your inability to see his thoughts and actions.

Your stomach warmed as Jason’s fingers slowly dragged at your revealed skin. Finding the brief warmth in between fabric, caressing you, teasing in a way that got your body following and anticipating the slightest movement of his hands.

It was intoxicating as your lips opened to suddenly try to breathe as his touches made you lose your breath.

As your body slightly squirmed, you were slipping to the edge of the counter. It didn’t help that Jason leaned into you, opening your legs further apart to settle himself snugly against you. Keeping you on the counter, flush against him, unable to move further.

When you did try to move, it only added friction to your already flush bodies, igniting another warmth as his voice lulled close to you.

“Breathe, Sweets.” Jason strained at your movements.

You were going to lose your mind.

His voice was deep, steady as he continued to hold your body in ways that made it feel impossible to do so.

In combination with his warm body slightly mimicking your itching movements, your stomach went taut at the stimulation of everything this man managed to make you feel.

It felt all too much, but not enough.

“So much talk today, but you can’t seem to talk back.” Jason talked against your lips, dragging closer then pulling away. “You can’t even remember to breathe.” Jason smirked watching you flinch at every drag of his words.

In your irritation at him getting too confident and your need for more, you edged your hips against Jason’s waist. Causing a sharp breath from the man standing in between your legs.

“Breathe, Jay.” You murmured back, no longer caring about testing your limits. Or maybe you wanted to test them.

Jason hunched over you, catching his breaths as sweat was starting to coat your skin and his.

In the lost breaths, you may have lost you inability to think, but you still had enough focus to try to make this man lose his mind too.

A small, coarse chuckle resonated in front of you, low breaths landed on your neck, drawing the hairs on your body to stand up.

Jason’s large free hand, rested on your stomach as he irritatingly dragged up your shirt to reveal more of what was already showing.

“I am.” Jason lowered his hand to cup you lower, just below your waist band to rub.

You twitched at the touch over your clothes, exhaling a deep breath that was stuck in your chest.

You were about to lose your entire mind, and he hadn’t even gotten your pants off.

Jason hiddenly smirked as you leaned your head back as much as you could into the cabinet behind you, but you couldn’t move without affecting the friction on your body.

It was a battle between two evils.

“You have two options. My mouth or my hands?” Jason spoke, his eyes dragging up your body watching you desperately taking in breaths.

You were long past being worried about how you looked, spread on the counter. Now you only focused on the need for more feeling.

You could hear his voice fading and resurfacing as you pried your fingers into Jason’s hand holding them up.

“You gotta tell me, Sweets.” He thickly spoke, adding pressure onto your hands, chasing the slight pain your nails dug into him.

He had always loved a little pain in your more intimate moments. Letting your pleasure drag out too long to handle it, until your pants were so guttural you could not recognize yourself, or when the scratches ran so deep into his back that your arms hurt from holding onto him.

“I need to know. Please.” Jason rubbed over your pants, his large fingers moving in various motions and strengths.

That had done it.

“Mouth.” You blurted out, no longer trying to find your voice.

You stretched your neck, your arms, anything to keep you from staying still at his fingers touching you so vulnerably.

Kissing your jaw in thanks, Jason let go of your hands.

“There’s that voice I love.” He murmured into your cheek, hypnotized by the smell of your sweat.

Your arms fell to the edges of the counter as Jason fully unbuttoned your pants.

You tried to not fight the slow pull of the fabric off your body, ready to kick off the pants, but Jason loved taking them off himself.

You had learned that lesson when he had come back a little more intense than usual after patrol and your curiosity got the better of you.

You have never screamed that loud in your life.

As much as you loved that Jason too, there was something so sweet about a patient lover that made you lose your mind in other ways.

After the fabric left your ankles, you had one final layer.

Jason took a sharp inhale at the sight he watched, getting closer to seeing all of you. He was losing his rationality at the anticipation to touch you.

Pressuring himself to wait.

Patience was a virtue.

In your fidgety anticipation, Jason lightly touched you, hand dragging over thin fabric covering you.

You hung your head, suddenly the blindfold felt so heavy.

You gasped, leaving your mouth open to how intense that single stroke felt.

“Oh, Sweets.” Jason inched his finger under the final waistband, lowering it all the way down your legs. Pulling your underwear off one leg at a time.

For a moment you couldn’t feel Jason’s touch as he tucked a portion of your underwear into his pocket.

Jason shook at the garment partially sticking out for his own view.

It was giving him a high that he had to control his shaky hands.

While Jason calmed himself, the cool air was nice against your hot body.

Your nerves were all on edge as you tried to grip onto the counter.

Jason had kept your legs up, using his strength to keep you in place as he lowered himself.

Once his messy hair had touched your lower abdomen and some stray strands had tickled the inner of your thighs, you couldn’t help but let out a sound.

Everything felt so excruciating, but in a way that you wanted more of it.

Craved it.

Jason’s mouth had touched you fully, nothing no longer keeping him separated from you and his arms grasped at your legs to keep you in place.

His large fingers dug into your skin.

You were sure Jason would trace the marks left on you in the morning, but he had another job he wanted to fulfill.

Sweet relief was spreading all over you each time you felt his mouth drag across you, maneuvering his tongue in ways that had you choking out his name in between breaths.

When the counter was not enough, you dragged your hands through his hair. Gaining a very appealing sound from his throat that vibrated through your legs.

You chased the high, battling against your senses to move away and toward Jason’s tongue and mouth.

When the small spark had hit through all your nerves, you knew he was moving in the ways your body always reacted to. That he had repeatedly watched and mastered in getting you to meet the sort of euphoria that had you shaking.

Within a few more scratches and pulling at his hair, your ears rung, and you pressed your eyelids closed despite them never being open the entire evening.

Sweat had encased your skin in a thin layer as your chest heaved.

Jason kissed your lower one last time, your eyebrows furrowed at the overstimulation that still hadn’t left, the sensitivity at its peak.

He was in no rush to move, kissing around your abdomen, leaving marks and nips as he pleased.

You were in no state to focus on any individual kisses, just catching your breath in a sloppy mess.

Jason had raised himself, holding and easing your legs down so he can stand up again. He brought his hand to wipe your sweaty hair and then to pull at the blindfold until it slipped off.

You could only drunkenly squint at the bright kitchen lights when Jason’s head leaned into to block out the brightness.

He pecked at your forehead, creating a path to your eyelids, to the tips of your nose and ending in one final drunken kiss to your lips. Before he could pull away, he nipped at your upper lip, but the pinch was numb as you could only lazily blink up at him.

Your look had Jason slowly smirking, proud of his dedication and meticulous work.

“Let’s finish this in the bedroom.” Jason brought you into his arms, effortlessly caring you to end the night without any rest.

[banj0possum]

Can we get a zombie horde with a gn! Reader where their abusive family finds them again?

after years of inactivity im fucking back ! sorry for the long long wait but at least im able to put out a few more fics !

Zombie Horde!Reader's Abusive Family Finds Them Again

CW: verbal abuse, abusive family, (mentioned) being rejected food

💀 You haven't always been alone in your travels, in fact, you were with your family when the outbreak happened. But to be fair, you never liked your family..

💀 They would always bully you, boss you around, even put the blame on you whenever something bad happened, the torment didn't end even when there were zombies banging on your doors!

💀 In fact, because of the virus, they got even more cruel to you.

💀 They would take away your food rations for any small mistake you did, make you take the night watch for days on end, even send you out to get supplies just because 'you talked back that one time'!

💀 You couldn't take it anymore and left, knowing anywhere would be better than being stuck in a house of people who did nothing but torture you.

💀 You thought you were safe from them, cuddled up with Ribs in your bed as the others wandered around the abandoned mall, but it all came back when you heard a familiar voice shout out your name from the distance..

💀 "(Y/N)?! I know you're here you runt!"

💀 It was your dad...

💀 Ribs sat up as soon as he heard it and snarled, crawling out of bed and going out to see the commotion.

💀 Your heart raced as you followed him, but it was hard to walk with your body trembling at the thought of seeing him or any of your family again.

💀 "Jesus there's four of them!" "What are you waiting for you stupid bitch?! Shoot em!"

💀 It seems your mom was also there..

💀 You run the broken escalator and see the horde fighting with your family, gunshots ring throughout the mall as you see your beloveds blasted with bullets.

💀 You weren't scared though, they were dead after all, but it was still heartbreaking seeing them get hurt.

💀 You pick up a nearby rock and throw it at your dad to get his attention away from the boys. They all look at you, your family glaring at you while the horde coos at your presence.

💀 "(Y/N) you come here right this fucking second we're coming home!" Your mother shouts at you, walking over angrily and grabbing your arm strong enough to leave a red ring.

💀 Bo fumes and pulls her of you "You stay away from my mate ya hear me?!" he growls.

💀 "It talks?!" She yelps as your dad comes over as well. "Mate? Don't tell me you're hangin out with these monsters! Are you that much of a dumbass?!" he scolds you.

💀 You shrink, knowing whatever you say will make things worse..

💀 "Why you little whore.." Your dad growls, about to slap you, but Screw runs over and pushes your dad away, sending him back a few feet.

💀 Ribs and Soda smile and clap as Bo and Screw help you up.

💀 "You ok darlin?" Bo asks you in a sweet tone. "Is your arm ok? Does is hurt? Do you need a bandaid? I have a pink one with a cat on it.." Screw looks at the mark your mother gave you.

💀 You smile and assure them everything's ok.

💀 "Fucking freaks..(Y/N) do you hear me?! Get your ass up and let's go!" Your dad yells at you again as he stand up.

💀 "They're not going anywhere mean guy!" Ribs growls at him.

💀 Your mom is to the side next to Soda, she sneers at him and he looks back at her, giving her the middle finger, making her scoff and look away.

💀 In a shaky tone, you ask how they found you. You've cut off contact with them for months, there was no way they could find you..

💀 "Hah! Your dumbass thought you were just some person in the middle of nowhere? Half the state knows about your little talkin freak boyfriends!"

💀 You look down in shame as Bo and Screw comfort you "I think it's about time you folks leave..." Bo says, glaring at your parents.

💀 "Oh no you're not kicking us out! We came all this way to get this ungrateful little leech back! We gave them shelter and this is how they repay us?! You should've learned your place and stayed put!" he berates you. You finally snap and yell back at him, telling him all the things you've endured in their household, how you were treated like dirt every day, how you were much better off without them.

💀 Finally you firmly tell them to leave, pointing to the exit as you look at him with no fear left in your eyes. He scoffs "Fine..go get killed on your own then! Don't come to us for any fucking help!" he yells as he leaves, your mom in tow.

💀 Ribs laughs at them as they leave while Soda smiles at you.

💀 After the whole interaction, you were completely exhausted, the boys huddling up with you to calm you down.

💀 You give them all well-deserved kisses for protecting you, they all coo and chirp at the affection and kiss you back.

💀 "Do you still want that bandaid?" Screw asks you softly.

💀 You say yes.

this one was pretty short but expect more fics to be sent soon ! love you guys and remember that youre awesome and amazing !

[damn-stark]

Chapter 16 And wisdom choke you

Chapter 16 of Moonlight

A/N- Aegon: “Maester the psychos are loose. Help me.”

Warning- Swearing, talks of pregnancy, ANGST!!, fluff!!, Aegon, SPOILERS, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- 2x06-2x07

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

Of course, you knew Aemond was going to kick his mother out of the Small Council. He said he didn't think she was really needed there anymore.

You also saw his unwillingness as he told you.

Is that why she’s here interrupting your peace?

“You look very lovely today, Your Grace,” Alicent offers you sweet words as if working up to her bribe. Or not?

Then again it’s not like you seek each other's company, so she most likely wants to talk about Aemond with you, and you have some idea what she might say. She was basically yelling it at you for help during the Small Council meeting.

Still, you pretend you don't have a clue and spare a glance at the pretty teal dress decorated with embroidered stars on the long capes that cascade down your shoulders, and then look over at her and notice her studying the pearl headpiece that you wear, the golden arm sleeves that hang from your armbands and weigh down your arms before she meets your gaze and gives you a smile.

“I have to say I always like how you dress, and I don’t know how you do it with your morning sickness.” She says and takes a step closer while you offer her a genuine smile.

“I will admit I don’t know how I do it either, I’d rather be abed, but,” you sigh and take a glance around. “There’s stuff to be done and I really hate being bored and so plain dressed. I blame my father for that.” You laugh softly. “There was never a day I did not see him dressed so extravagantly…except for when it came to training of course.”

She offers you a faint smile and adds nothing since there’s really nothing she wanted to say about your father to avoid upsetting you, and well, she really didn’t care at the moment.

“After the small council meeting, I could not help but hear that you are having trouble keeping food down,” Alicent brings up to not drift away too far.

You nod. “Yes, I,” you pause and drop your gaze as you find that your next words come easy to you. Is it because the way she framed her question is how your mother would have asked you? Or because you really are seeking some help on the matter?

“…I have been finding it hard between not being hungry and not keeping the food down, or my head and stomach aching,” you spill out your troubles out of desperation. “I never had that while I was expecting Aerion. It was rather easy then.”

Alicent finishes closing the distance between you to be able to grab your arm as she looks at you softly, making her brown eyes almost inviting to get lost in.

“It’s all normal, not every experience will be the same, especially with twins,” she tries to offer you what you seek. “Morning sickness goes away, I found that ginger tea with drops of lemon juice helped me when I was feeling under the weather with Daeron.”

You take in her suggestion with a gentle nod and soon thereafter see her hand gently slide off your arm.

“It will go away. Just like one of the twins will grow like their sibling, don’t worry,” she adds, making you swallow back nervously and nod in comprehension.

“Aemond,” you share in a soft voice that you rarely use when you’re talking with her. “Has tried to read into it. I caught him this morning since it’s the only time he can dive back into his own pleasures before Regent duties steal his attention.”

Alicent blinks and her eyes lose that sweet attempt at being comforting, instead, something else flickers within that makes her eyes dull and her lips droop to a long forming frown.

“He has really jumped into his role as Regent hasn’t he?” She mutters and takes a step back. “He would be so quiet at meetings with Aegon, now…” she trails off and pauses whilst her eyes search the white tree behind you. “He's…different. Colder.”

You take in her words to try and find the fault she clearly sees, but you find nothing. “Well…we are in a time of war. He needs to be hard so people listen, a gentle voice makes them too lenient and carefree like Lord Jason Lannister.”

Alicents eyes snap to you and the corner of her lips twitch with discontent, yet she doesn’t give up.

“Does that mean having to kick his own mother out of the Small Council?” She now blurts, making you stiffen only because it’s awkward and something she should talk about with anyone else but you.

“If it’s any consolation, the decision wasn’t easy to make,” you reveal, causing her eyebrows to briefly meet in the middle as she’s slightly surprised by the words you admit. But then her expression changes as she’s proven right.

“I see,” she mumbles and drifts her eyes away for a moment before she lifts her head up high to slowly look at you with this desperation that makes her eyes wide and glisten as if she wants to lure you in.

“You and Aemond are close, I see that. I have always seen it since you were children, but now that you’re married, now that you have a family of your own it seems that connection has only grown,” she rolls out of her tongue. “I’m glad that he has someone he loves, a best friend with a key to his heart. He needs that now more than ever.”

You blink and slowly figure her out. Those sweet words, and that thing she’s doing with her eyes.

“He needs someone to keep him calm, someone to make him see reason,” she continues to ramble. “And I’m glad that it’s you. You’re gentle just like your mother. You have reason. And you’re smart.”

And once again she’s proving that she does not know you. The way you are is a reason why your mother was also hesitant to let you fight, like Jacaerys you’re quick to upset, so you suppose you get that from her.

“You have to be his reason, you have to be like a voice in his head, and I know it’s not always easy but you are the only one with access to his heart—”

“And I have no means of changing it,” you cut off her rambling while looking at her with discontent and disapproval. “He can’t be on his ass, or be some lenient Regent who lets people walk over him. He has to put his foot down; he has to get his hands dirty. We’re at war. You see that, you have lost a soul because of this war, do you want to lose more?” You snap at her in defense of Aemond.

“I will interfere when I can,” you admit but that doesn’t offer her peace of mind, instead she grows more upset. “But I won't bend him at the will of anyone just so he can what? Give you your seat back on the Small Council?”

Alicent swallows back nervously and drags in a deep breath that makes her chest rise high. When she lets the breath go it comes out shaky and her eyes now glisten because she’s being attacked.

Yet she doesn’t let herself be defeated just yet; she holds your gaze and tries to jab back. “I wonder if you will say the same thing in regards to him hurting more of your family? Or do you say this now because it benefits you?”

Your jaw clenches and your anger is quickly summoned, but you’re also quick to reel it back to respond with an icy demeanor that works to intimidate her more than your anger would.

“Have you ever been in love?” You catch her off guard with your question, and as you see that you give her a moment to collect herself and gather her thoughts.

Albeit her lips part and she doesn’t answer, her eyebrows knit together and she looks at you troubled, as if the question itself is physically tolling.

You see that so answer for her. “I will take that as a no, so I will explain it to you,” you continue with a hint of cockiness behind every word. “I tried hating Aemond, I did. I told him that, but…no matter what he did, I can’t muster myself to. I can’t even muster a smidge of hate. Even when I’m mad at him he’s such a relief to see, does that make me foolish? Maybe. Maybe I am foolish for loving someone who killed my brother, but…” you trail off and swallow back thickly.

“My heart sings for him, for every part of him. The bad parts, and especially the good ones. That’s what love is. It’s loving every part of them. It’s not about changing them to your will, you can guide them, and help them, but why would you want to change who they are? If you’re going to be with someone, it's because you love who they are. Why would you be with someone that you want to change?”

Alicent blinks repeatedly and tries hard to fight the tears brought by defeat and guilt.

“I see who Aemond is turning out to be,” you try to be understanding. “I see his anger, but don’t you see that he’s always been like that? Deep inside it’s who he is, who was made to be. And he’s not all bad, he just can’t express his desperation to keep his family safe, don’t you see that? He’s not only working for my son and me but for you and Helaena. So no…I won’t change him. I love him. I love who he is. I love all of him,” you say those last words tenderly and it almost works to convince her that it will all be fine, but you see it, she’s still scared of him, of who’s coming out of the shadows.

And maybe soon you will change your mind, he will do things that will make you change your mind, but right now you believe every word that comes out of your mouth. You love him with all of yourself. You love all of him.

“We’re at war, Alicent, we have to be ruthless. Us, more than anyone because we’re women. Learn that,” you offer her a piece of advice and take a deep breath before you walk away from her, catching Helaena approaching the Godswood.

“Your Grace,” you greet her and curtsy.

Helaena curtsy back. “Your Grace,” she says back with a tiny smile. “You are Regent now.”

You scoff in amusement and see her pass her focus to Alicent. “Mother,” she greets. “I hope I am not interrupting.”

You shake your head. “No, we just got done talking.”

Helaena hums and her eyes drift back to you. “I was hoping we could take a stroll to talk. Are you busy?”

You beam at her and shake your head. “Nope, the rest of my day is open, so I’m all yours,” you assure her and skip over to her to fall at her side and guide her away. Yet before she can walk with you she bids her mother a goodbye.

“I will see you later.”

Alicent offers her daughter a sweet smile and redirects a short goodbye, letting Helaena then give most of her attention to you, and little attention to where you walk. And it’s good that she does because the truth is, you don’t pay much mind to where you walk, you just walk with your shadows trailing behind you.

“Have you thought of any names for the twins?” Helaena wanders.

You clasp your hands behind you and sigh. “I have thought of them, but I am still indecisive.”

Helaena hums and then turns her head to look at you with excitement. “When I was expecting the twins I was really eager to think of names. I remember. So perhaps I can give you some ideas, like, Shiera, or Gael for girls and for boys maybe Laenor, like your father.”

You blink repeatedly and a sweet and tender smile spreads on your lips. “Yes, I think Laenor would be a perfect name…if I have a boy…you don’t happen to know do you?” You try and probe, making her look away and lose herself in the distance.

“No,” she says thoughtfully. “My dreams…well…I can’t really conjure up what to dream. Do you understand? It all just comes when it wants.”

You follow her line of gaze and hum in comprehension. “It must be heavy. Knowing so much stuff, I mean.”

Helaena blinks and her eyes fall to her hands. “Well…I have had them since I can remember, so the weight is not something I feel anymore.”

You look at her with slight pity, but she looks at you with a very faint smile. “But that’s why I like going on dragonback, I feel free in a lot of ways when I’m in the sky with Dreamfyre. That’s why I liked it when we went flying together. Will we be able to fly together soon, do you think?”

You see the hope clinging to her eyes. You see the desire to have something not tainted by this war. And it makes it hard to be honest, but you can’t lie either. “I hope so. I miss flying without worrying that I’ll hit the blockade, or run into armies of men ready to shoot down my dragon, or me,” you don’t avoid the truth, even as bleak as it sounds.

“Maybe once this war is over and we don’t have to worry about coming across angry people, then we can fly as freely as we want and land on a small Island where we can swim, and watch the sunset. Now that our children have dragons of their own,” you muse with a grin.

Yet Helaena fails to mirror that hopeful joy, or any joy at all, her eyes remain downcast, but this time a small frown curls on her lips and her eyebrows knit together.

“Are you…okay?” You press carefully, gaining her immediate attention as if caught by surprise.

“Yes,” she answers bluntly.

You search her gaze, but like many times before, you can’t read her. You wish you could, you wish you could know all that she knows but you also know that if you did your mind would collapse with all that knowledge, and it would probably cease to exist. So you leave it untouched and leave it up to her to share what she wants or deems significant.

Thus you move on to a peaceful silence you both don’t mind being wrapped in. There does come times when you comment something to each other, but it’s never heavy, it’s lighthearted to be able to escape from the wrath and find peace with each other.

There’s also never a sign of a grudge from her since you are Regent now. She actually thanks you for taking the attention away from her and says if she could, she would give you the title to return to her humble living as a princess. But she can’t do such a thing so she gives you her thanks instead and adds that she’s also grateful that she feels tranquil when you’re with each other, causing you to think that if you had a sister you would want her to be as gentle and sweet as Helaena.

Actually, Helaena is like a sister to you. She might be older than you, but she feels like a little sister you must protect at all costs. You want to shield her from this terrible world the same way you want to shield your little brothers.

She’s too fragile and good for this world, you want to protect her from that, but you also want her to fight, to grow thorns like a fragile rose so she’s not so easily plucked. But alas you know a lot of people can’t and aren’t like that and that’s okay too. You’ll protect her regardless, you’ll be the thorns to her rose. A fire a dragon breathes, and the sharp teeth they bear. Just for her.

——

*LATER*

Whilst on your stroll with Helaena, you found yourself near the roofs where Aemond and you would escape to when you were kids, where all you had at that moment was each other's company, and you couldn’t stop thinking of those sweet moments when everything was much more simple. Maybe that’s why later that same day you found yourself sitting on the roof watching the sun set so peacefully as if it doesn't hide tragedy on its horizon, and hoping that you could still grasp onto those simple times even if you know they’re nothing but a memory now.

“Aren’t you cold?” A soft voice cuts in through the chilly air. “With your back exposed like that?”

You must have summoned Aemond with your mind, or perhaps you just missed each other when you came up to the roofs and he went to your chambers.

“Beauty is pain,” you remark with a cheeky grin. “You of all people should know that. Tell me, how painful is it being so beautiful?” You lull out cheekily, and when you look over your shoulder you catch a rosy blush on his cheeks that makes you grin and feel accomplished.

“No, but really,” you scoff and look back at the bleeding sunset. “I don’t mind it much.”

“Is it that warm flesh of yours?” He quips but also wonders out of curiosity.

You sigh deeply and wait until he’s sitting by you before you shake your head. “No. I just don’t mind the cold because I prefer less constrictive gowns. Why?” You roll out and tilt your head to the side to look at him with a pressing gaze. “Am I exposing myself too much for your liking husband?”

Aemond rolls his eye but doesn’t actually argue to prove you wrong.

“It’s not like what I say will stop you from wearing what you like,” he mutters to the part of the sky that’s already littered with stars.

“Nope,” you deadpan. “And it doesn’t seem like you mind them much when you’re gawking at me.”

Aemond scoffs and you look over at him with a smirk twitching on your lips. He then slowly drifts his eyes over to you and a smirk flashes on his lips before he smiles shyly at the book that you barely notice on his lap.

“I find you beautiful in everything you wear,” he says, making you giggle and drop your head on his shoulder—“I just don’t like when other people gawk. Like my uncle.”

“Your uncle is older than my mother,” you comment. “And thinks he’s younger than he is…no offense or anything.”

Aemond doesn’t argue in his uncle's defense so you continue.

“Don’t worry about anyone. I will only have eyes for you, and I will only be yours,” you finish in a whisper.

Aemond remains quiet and just presses a kiss on the top of your head without moving his lips away after that moment. He keeps his lips and nose nuzzled against your head and now admires the same blazing horizon you do, going unaware of your current desire to grasp at some reminder of the simple times to relive them just for a little bit. You want to live back in those moments for a while, you long for it, but you also figure out that it’s something that you can’t fight to get back. You can only reminisce and live through what life has to offer you now.

“Aemond,” you whisper shakily and want to pull away to meet him in the eye, but you’re also afraid of what you’ll see, so you stay as you are and watch as the horizon gets distorted with tears that build in your eyes. “Are you scared…of me? Of what I can do?”

Right away he sees that any hesitation will make you doubt and make you question everything about yourself, so he answers right away without an ounce of deceit. “No, should I be?”

You shake your head lightly and whisper. “No. I don’t want you to be.”

“I’m not,” he presses so you can finally cement that in your heart and stop overthinking.

“Good,” you whisper that to yourself before you finally decide to touch on the unspoken subject. “I would have said something if I knew what I was, or why I can’t be hurt by fire. I’ve been trying to look into it, but I cannot find anything. I wanted to find what I could be before I told anyone so I didn’t seem mad. Do you understand?”

Aemond hums and lingers in his silence before he pulls away and pushes the book towards you. “It was one of my father's books Aegon had stashed.”

You look at Aemond with awe because that’s all that befalls you at that very moment as you come to realize that he’s been trying to read more into what you could be, or what could have led to you being immune to fire.

You didn’t even ask him to do it.

“I could not find much, I’m sure there’s something in Dragonstone, or somewhere lost in the world, but what I did find…” he continues to make your heart dance, and your love for him to grow. “…was that our Valyrian ancestors would practice blood magic in Old Valyria, I’m sure it came from something magic-related.”

You scoff and finally tear your eyes off him to look at the pages you flip through. “So I’m cursed?”

“No,” Aemond quickly scoffs and looks at the pages you’re going through. “You are not hurt by fire, I would not call that being cursed. I think it makes you special,” he speaks softly and full of fascination, and as soon as you catch that oozing off his voice you stop flipping through the pages and slowly look at him with relief, disbelief, and just utter awe that he doesn’t shame you and proves what you saw that night right.

He sees you. He knows you’re something so much more, something important and that can mean so much.

Albeit at this very moment he is averting your gaze out of timidness, proving Alicent’s fears wrong. He’s no monster, and it’s sad that she thinks that.

“You think so?” You still ask for reassurance.

Aemond’s gaze lingers on the page before he slowly meets your gaze with a soft smile and adoration that makes his blue eye soft and easy to get lost in. “I know it. I’m certain of it.”

Your heart flutters, causing your lips to tremble as happy tears fill your eyes.

Sure perhaps if you confided in your mother or someone else you trust they too would say a variation of the same thing, but there’s something about not having to tell Aemond, about him discovering it for himself that makes this so much more special, and so much more tender. If only you knew what was really rushing through his mind, you would have probably collapsed or had some heart attack.

And he wants to tell you every feeling that’s making his heart mad with more love and lust, but he keeps it all in to avoid sounding mad to you. He doesn’t want you to think he’s mad, even if you probably wouldn’t, he doesn’t tell you how special you both are because he rides the largest dragon and you have fire-made flesh.

You both are Regents now too. You are both ruthless, you are both called for greater deeds, you both are greater than those below you, and you are one in the same now. He used to think that before but now…now you are one.

That’s what he thinks…

“I’m glad you think so,” you mumble and reach your hand over to cup his jaw and caress his cheek with your thumb as you just relish in how grateful you are that he understands and that he looks at you with admiration and love rather than fear.

“And thank you for trying to look for an answer,” you add. “It means a lot.”

He brings his hand up to cup yours and caresses your knuckles while he just stares at you in awe.

“You are special,” he makes it clear to you and your dancing heart swooning for him. “You always have been special to me.”

You lean in but don’t press your lips against his right away. You stop to smile in relief first before you close that distance with a slow and passionate kiss that you both find sync in quickly and move like you’re starving for each other's taste.

It’s no wonder why you came out with a child 4 months after having your first son. Neither of you can keep your hands off each other, or keep your lips from molding into each other. And now with you both being regent and the discovery of this gift, you find a new and hotter vigor for each other.

Yet neither of you get carried away right then at that moment. You pull away after a while to catch your breaths and press your forehead against his to avoid losing contact.

Rather than basking in the silence that the night has to offer on the roofs, you find words to share through your heavy breaths. “Will you let me fight now? I don’t want to be sitting here waiting to hear news. I want…I want to fight on my dragon. I don’t have to fight on the ground, just let me be on Astraea. We can help. Please,” you beg and stroke his cheek.

Aemond licks his lips and peels away to meet your waiting gaze. He parts his lips, but nothing comes out but hesitation that you quickly rebuttal

“At least when we’re together then,” you try to lure him to agree. “So you can be there if anything does happen. Please. I won’t get burnt, you know that. I will wear armor. And Astraea will keep me safe.”

Aemond’s eye drifts down to your belly, so you grab his hand and press it against you. “We will be fine,” you insist. “I will be fine.”

Aemond looks up at you and clenches his jaw as he stares hard, but after a while, he sighs and gives you his answer. “Fine.”

You flash him a beaming grin before you throw your arms around him and thank him by whispering in his ear over and over again.

“Any sign of any greater danger and you’re out do you understand?” He makes sure to let you know harshly. “I will throw you over my shoulder or have you taken like you’re captive, do you understand? I am not risking your life.”

You chuckle and pull your head back but keep your arms wrapped around him to assure him. “I understand.”

Aemond groans and you give him a peck on his lips and mutter against them. “<I love you.>”

Aemond holds your gaze and pouts with discontent because you just completely defeated him, but you don't care, you brush him off to steal another kiss from him, causing him to pull away.

You ignore his frustration and flash him a smug smile before you push the book away to shift around and lay on your back with your head on his lap to be able to look up at the stars that paint the night sky. Now you know that you can’t stay up here forever, no matter how much you want to avoid this war, but there’s nothing wrong with stealing a moment for yourselves under the twinkling stars, and the bright full moon.

“I’m here,” you start to reminisce. “And I can’t help but think about how I wanted to escape. How I wanted to be somewhere else…” you trail off and Aemond rests his hand on your arm that you sling over your chest. “And if you told me that you wanted to leave right now, I would grab Aerion and I would leave with you,” you admit, making him steal a glance at you.

“But,” you add. “I like to think I have matured out of that desperate desire.”

There’s nothing Aemond can really say in response, there’s nothing you want him to say so you appreciate his silence before you finally tear your eyes away from the stars that kept you captive, and look at him with a hint of sadness, but also like you’re somewhere far.

“Do you want to know what else I dreamed about when I would find myself alone here…or anywhere?”

Aemond hums to probe so you do just that, you continue softly, ever so feathery, enchantingly so. “I would dream of being Queen.”

It’s something you knew you wanted. It’s something he knew you almost had.

it was there at your reach, but it was taken away. You have never admitted it to him, your deepest desire until now. “I wanted the power,” you say like you’re reciting the most beautiful poem. “Did that make me selfish? Power-hungry? No, I never thought of it that way because I deserved it.” You nod softly and he looks deep into your soul with a softening gaze. “It was my destiny. I wanted to be like Good Queen Alysanne, like Queen Rhaenys the Conqueror. I dreamt of it, I pictured myself as Queen. I wanted to be good, I imagined I would be even though it could never be mine.”

You sigh shakily and look up at the sky as if you’re searching for that dream again amongst the stars.

“As I got older that desire turned to anger and resentment, but I was taught not to be angry about it and many things. And I was never angry at my mother or my brother, I was angry at the people who said that I couldn’t have it. I am still angry to this day. It’s deep inside me, but I still am because they took it,” you sneer but not with a loud rage, you are still soft-spoken, like you’re more sad than angry.

“And they made me feel weak,” you say between a grimace and a tremble in your voice, which Aemond catches. He catches every emotion, he’s captivated by every word and stuck on the tears that roll down your cheeks.

“They made me feel like I didn’t belong,” you continue. “Because if I’m the oldest and not my mother's heir then why? Why am I here? They…made me feel like I needed to prove myself to be something every day of my life…” you trail off and he finds tears creeping in his eye too. He finds that his throat stings because he felt what you did too when he had no dragon. Even now when he does, that need to prove himself still lingers just like it does in you.

“I understand,” he admits above a whisper, pulling your teary eyes back to him to look deep into his soul that cries as it feels understood, and as you prove to him that you are one in the same. That you were always meant to burn together—“I understand the feeling.”

You sit up and cup his cheek to wipe away his stray tear, and he mirrors your actions to wipe away the tears that roll down your own cheeks.

“But now I ride the biggest dragon,” he continues with a ferocity that he was quick to find. “And you,” he muses. “You are not hurt by fire. You are unburnt. We are Regents. We have the power, we do not need to prove anything to anyone. Not anymore. The world is ours now. We don’t have to be belittled by it anymore.”

You offer him an admiring smile and shake your head. “I don’t need the world to be mine,” you confess. “I have you, Aerion, my dragon, and the twins. That’s all I need. I am content. That’s my fight now. The power as Regent is an added bonus, I like it and if I were to have more I would make the most of it, but I am content now with you, and the little blessing you gave me.”

Aemond parts his lips, but he’s at a loss for words. All he can continue doing is admire you; your divine beauty, the sweet smile on your perfect lips, the tears that still trail down your perfectly sculpted face, and the love and awe in your eyes that make them gleam beautifully.

He really wants to say something, but he’s left knowing that all that he is, all that he wants to be, and all that he wanted to be, exists there with you.

He exists only for you, for his son, for his mother and sister, but you hold a special place in his heart because you continue to see him. You understand his conflicted soul more than anyone and he appreciates that understanding, and thanks it with kisses, with deep and passionate kisses that lead to neither of you wanting to part. They engulf you both with desire that takes you back to your chambers where you demand to be alone even if that sends your son away to different chambers.

Your passion drives you mad with lust and with the need to please each other in different ways. Your heated passion leaves you unsatisfied after one round and makes you want more and more until you're both exhausted, but completely full and happily satisfied.

Sleep came to be quite minimal after. Your days start earlier now, but you both found yourselves awake so you filled the silence while you waited for the day to get started for you.

He mostly complained though, but you don’t mind. You like that he shares his complaints with you.

“Lord Jason is just scared, it’s normal,” you try to ease the crease that forms between his brows. “He’s never fought a war, he’s scared.”

Aemond shakes his head and parts his lips to argue but you cut him off to get your point across. “With that said, am I excusing how lazy he’s being? No. He’s being too lenient and not taking it as seriously as he should. The boost in power has gotten to his head.”

Aemond sighs deeply and mutters. “He's only head of the army because of his brother, I would have chosen someone else for the job, someone who doesn’t need me to go to his rescue to get the job done sooner.”

You stop tracing circles on the mattress and snicker before you tilt your head up to steal a glance at Aemond. “I hear he’s taken lions with him,” you add with a teasing smile growing on your lips. “What exactly are they supposed to do?”

Aemond crosses his arms over his bare chest and mutters. “They want to be like us. They want to rule the land because they see we rule the sky.”

You shift your head down on your palm and giggle. “Them and their golden lions are funny. They believe their golden lions are like our dragons, but they can’t stand on the clouds, they roll in the dirt and call those clouds.”

Aemond chuckles, and as you lay on your side with your head resting on your propped-up hand, you slide your hand over his torso. “With a lion, if you turn your back, they dig their claws in you, no matter how long you’ve raised them. With dragons, you bond with them and they will forever be bound to your soul, they are a part of your soul. So no matter how hard they all try, no house will ever reach us as long as our dragons live.”

Aemond hums, and you press your fingers on his torso before you slide them over and look up with a slightly narrowed look. “That’s why you need to remind this Lord Lion that he’s no one to be ordering you or anyone else around. If he’s a coward who needs a security blanket to fight then tell him you will find someone else who can.”

“And if Daemon does decide to meet them in battle?” Aemond does let you hear some of his doubt, and as possible as it is, you doubt he will. At least you hope he won’t, there’s other battles to fight with Caraxes, it doesn’t seem like he’d be bothered to fight against Lord Jason unless they’re desperate or want an easy win.

“Then he meets them, but I doubt that Daemon will bother to fight any Lannister army. If it was Ser Criston then yes, I would say you should worry, but it’s not, so I would not give it a second thought. He'll send another army to fight for him.”

Aemond nods gently in comprehension and you stare at him for a lingering moment with a growing smile before you climb up the bed to be face to face. “Will you miss me at today's small council meeting?”

Aemond lazily hangs his arm over your waist and glances down at your lips. “Well, I’ll have to be stuck staring at old men and toads so yes.”

You laugh and query. “Toads?”

“Lord Larys.”

You snort and smack his shoulder. “That’s…true,” you wanted to say it was rude but as you think about it now it’s true. “Well,” you roll out and scale your fingers up to caress his chest. “If you ever miss me throughout the day just come to our quarters I’ll be here all day getting my braids done.”

Aemond huffs softly and can’t help but cup your cheek, the same cheek that bears the scar he made six years ago, and hovers his thumb over the scar before he gently trails it.

“Just remember,” you speak softly and grab his hand. “Clear mind Aemond. Don’t let your anger blind you. I know sometimes the men around you can be irritating and all you want to do is lash out, but anger doesn’t work in this situation. It doesn’t work when it comes to planning, okay? Clear mind and hold your anger back for this, hm?”

Aemond doesn’t say anything in return, he just presses a kiss on the heel of your hand and you take that as a comprehensive response.

Not so much later Vanessa, Aerion’s wetnurse, and servants barge in and your lax morning is upturned to a rowdy morning and you know your day has kickstarted. No more rest, and there’s only a little privacy while you break fast, but that serenity is cut short soon thereafter by Aerion crying. At least this morning you could stomach—or the twins felt like letting you eat so you really take that as a positive first step of a good day. Or as good as a day can be nowadays.

Can you say the rest of the day you're going through is bad? No, mostly because when you’re in your chambers sometimes it feels like the day passes over you. The news doesn’t come to you right away, and since you aren’t going out of your way to seek it you have to wait for it to come to you. You live in a little bubble when days like today are spent surrounded by the four walls of your quarters. Do you mind it?

Not today. You enjoy basking in the obliviousness, you enjoy the escape, the serenity as Vanessa takes her time to carefully braid your white hair whilst you pass golden cuffs, and pearls that hang from rings so she can put them in your hair.

She doesn’t tug too harshly, she’s gentle, slow, and very intricate with each braid, and each placement of the pearls, and the cuffs, that you could fall asleep. Actually, sometimes you do find yourself dozing off while you’re reading, but mostly you sit in the serenity that obliviousness brings.

“Perhaps soon I can wear that gown from Yi-Ti, the sea green one that looks blue under certain lights?” You ask for an opinion. “That one is my favorite because of the black chest piece that comes with the cloak. It’s very…exquisite, and the embroidery on the sleeves and all the golden accessories it comes with,” you swoon. “I wish I lived there, I would need a castle just for my wardrobe!”

“You should see how they dress when the summer is at its peak,” Ser Jason cuts into the conversation. “The silks are truly…silk.”

You snort and look at him through the mirror as he puts down books you needed from the library, but couldn't get at this very moment.

“You’ve been to Yi-Ti?” You muse and get tempted to turn around, but Vanessa would scold you for moving so you just stare at the knight in awe and envy.

Ser Jason’s eyes flicker to the ground and he hesitates before he nods gently. “Yes, not long, but I’ve been at the peak of summer.”

Your smile slowly grows to a grin and you probe because that’s all you can do. “Is it as they say? Is it really so beautiful? Are there golden castles?”

Ser Jason chuckles and shakes his head as he keeps avoiding eye contact and stands incredibly still. “No, those are just tall tales, but they do have a lot of gold. Statues, the peak of roofs, and tapestries lined with beautiful golden threads that almost look like rich gold. And the food,” he sighs as if recalling the taste in his mouth.

“It’s otherworldly,” you let him keep filling your head with tales of his life, a life you wish you could live just to see those wonders he got to see with his own eyes. “I…I would love to describe it, but there’s truly no words I could use to describe how all those flavors dance on one's tongue.”

You nod gently and hope for more, but he looks at you through the mirror and falters. That confidence he garnered to speak of those marvels is lost and he’s reverted back to his stammering and timidness. “Of course, you…you should go witness it all for yourself. You would love it.”

That wonder twinkling in your eyes dims and your smile is not as sweet. “It’s easier said than done sadly. I have jewelry with rare gems from Yi-Ti, I have gowns made with their rich fabrics and designed by their creative minds, but that’s how far I go.”

“You'd think with all the money and privilege you wouldn’t let them tell you how to live your life,” he dares to say, causing your second sworn protector to peek his head inside after what he overheard, while you and Vanessa stiffen and look at the sudden bold knight.

“One would think,” you hit back and catch his eyes widening in shock as if he did not actually expect you to respond, or as if shocked about what came out of his mouth is true.

“But I am a woman, a princess, and the only daughter of a queen, my life has been planned since the moment I was born,” your voice goes hard and cold while your eyes express the same bitterness. “Stories and dreams are as far as I go.”

Ser Jason blinks repeatedly as his mouth is left agape. “I know women with just as much who left it all behind to find a lot more riches in accomplishing their dreams.”

Your eyes flicker to a glare, but tears break through as you slowly come to realize that all you have is dreams of grand places and grand adventures. There’s nothing you can do but dream again. He returns that cruel reminder to your mind.

“Thank you, Ser,” you dismiss him and avert your gaze so you don’t know how he reacts, you just know Ser Cane Clegane steps in to watch the knight walk out before closing the door and leaving Vanessa and you alone once again. Now though the serenity you once relished is a dream too.

“Princess,” Vanessa whispers with traces of pity, so you quickly shut her down.

“I’ve been meaning to ask about the plans Mysaria sent?” You abruptly change the subject to something you did not want to touch just yet but have to now. “Are they ready?”

Vanessa glances back and makes sure the door is closed before she stops braiding your hair and leans down to whisper. “All done. The food will be sent later tonight and should arrive in the morrow.”

Food. That’s the plan your mother has so far. It’s an excellent plan in response to all the hungry smallfolk just wanting food but getting scraps or worse from their King, and Regent.

The smallfolk will know who to thank and start to look at your mother with hope for a change, which means they will do as she wants and gain their love and support.

“We will make sure to keep away from the city tomorrow then,” you say and watch Vanessa back up to continue doing what she was doing. “It will be chaos.”

She hums and only seconds later the doors get thrown open and in comes your beloved husband in a huff.

“What is it?” You ask right away as you notice his nose is flared and his jaw is clenched.

He doesn’t look injured so it doesn’t seem like he got hurt at the training yard or anywhere else for that matter. He looks pissed though, so something is bothering him.

“It’s,” he heaves. “Aegon. He’s awoken.”

You blink in disbelief. “But,” you shake your head. “The maester said there was little chance he would wake.”

Aemond lets out a heavy breath and walks up to your vanity to lean against it so you’re able to face him and his contorted face.

“So he said, but…it seems my brother beat the odds. He fought for once,” he grumbles and drops his glare on his fiddling hands, so you give Vanessa a break before you lean forward and place your hands over Aemond’s cold but soft hands.

“He still can’t walk, or probably stay awake for that long for that matter,” you try to make his mind clear of all the thoughts rushing behind his eye and clouding his mind. “He won’t be that competent.”

Aemond watches his thumb brush over your fingers and whispers. “And what he did to you while I was away? Does he get away with that?”

You secure your hold on his hand and pull his gaze to you, letting you offer him an assuring smile. “He won’t be as he was ever again. That’s enough justice.”

Yet you aren’t completely satisfied yet, but that’s something Aemond can’t fulfill. You have to. You will.

“Is it?” He asks as if he can read the thoughts in your mind.

You offer him a small but assuring nod that he takes to heart. “It is.” You try to assure him, but neither him nor you are left satisfied. Yet that’s not something either of you share, you just individually know you will selfishly reach for that piece of justice yourselves because you won’t be left savoring even a piece of it.

——

*LATER*

Aemond has been caught up handling some business you don’t care about so you take advantage of being left alone and go visit your King, since he’s awake now. What a miracle!

You just want to check on him, on his wounds and mental state. You want to give him your best wishes so he can have a quick recovery. That’s all.

You tell that to his Kingsguard protecting his chambers, but it’s not like they had any say in letting you in or not. They’re hesitant, they make excuses that he’s going to take milk of the poppy and fall asleep again, but you don’t care. You walk in with your long beautiful gown flowing behind you, and a golden candle handler in your hand to light your way.

Oh, and when you walk in you don’t forget to continue humming a haunting and menacing song that sends a chill down the spines of the servants and the Maesters tending to Aegon, while the king himself is confused. One could say he felt like he was dreaming, your humming was faint at first, but the haunting melody still managed to swirl in his ear. Even as your silhouette was beginning to get conjured up on the curtains covering his bed, he did not expect you to appear out of your own will.

Thus when the sheer curtains are slowly pulled to the side and you appear there like some haunting ghost, he still does not think you're real.

“Leave us,” you cut your humming off to demand the maesters and the servant girls away.

“But—” a maester tries to argue, but you snap your eyes to him and shoot him a menacing glare that shuts him up and makes him bow his head.

“I will give him the milk of the poppy,” you add to reassure the maester while you return your eyes to Aegon.

Once you know that the maesters and the servant girls are gone, you start humming again, but this time much more softer than before, making Aegon more convinced that you’re haunting his dreams.

He does watch you walk to him slowly with your eyes fixated on his flared scars still red and raw, but all he knows for sure is that his breathing is picking up while goosebumps crawl down his spine as he also feels captivated. Even more so when you come to a stop just under the moonlight that reflects inside his quarters.

The bright light completely captures you in its soft hue. It makes the golden cuffs, and the golden rings holding the pearls in your hair, glimmer, while your long silver-white hair itself almost gleams like thousands of pristine diamonds. And perhaps that's your only intention, just presenting yourself, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if you intend to smile at him either, but you do and his chambers now are completely silent, striking more fear to his heart.

Yet he still thinks he’s dreaming.

“Did it hurt?” You fill the silence with your question and study the part of his face that now is forever scared because of the dragonfire that feasted on his flesh.

“I have always wondered,” you continue in a sweet voice while you tilt your head up just slightly to look at the bald spot that now leaves part of his head naked. “I can gladly say that I have never been hurt by fire,” you reveal and bring your eyes back down to meet his gaze while you let your fingers graze the flames that you hold on your candles.

“I have never winced at the touch of candle fire, boiling water has never scolded my skin or my tongue. And never have I once been bothered by hearths or pyres whose flame grows too wild. So,” you roll out and take a seat beside him on the bed. “I always have wondered what it’s like to feel hurt by fire like you were.”

A smirk tugs on your lips and he realizes at this instant as the candlelight shows off your smirk, that this is no dream. You’re actually at his bedside looking at him the same way Aemond looked at him earlier today, like Aegon was nothing, like he wasn’t still king. You're looking at him as if was pathetic and nothing but someone to take pity on; he can see those thoughts playing behind your eyes and on the corner of your lips.

You were sitting, but you now cast a shadow over him that made his cower. The same way he made you feel not long ago when he visited your chambers while Aemond was gone.

But that was your intention, that’s why you’re here. You have the power now, it doesn’t matter if he’s king. You have the power and he knows it, he sees that darkness in your eyes the same way he saw it in Aemond’s eye.

“I would say it’s like drowning. You have that need to fight to survive, but,” you click your tongue and lean towards him, making him swallow back nervously and attempt to scoot away, but to no avail. He can’t move a muscle. “When the fire is eating away at your flesh I can’t imagine you can move all that much. You must be paralyzed, cut away from every message your head sends to your screaming muscles, hoping that your adrenaline can be your salvation, but all it can do is give you the power to cry and scream out your pain. Is that right, Aegon?” You direct the question at him and look at him not with curiosity but with a mocking look.

“Le…”

“Ah-ah,” you click your tongue and drag yourself closer to him to shush him. “Don’t waste your energy. It’s okay.”

You flash him another smile and hold his gaze as you push the melting candles toward his already scarred flesh, making him gasp and start to heave.

“I just want to see,” you mutter. “Maybe hear you whimper just a little to know what it’s like, you know? Live it through someone else.” You chuckle.

“Crazy bitch,” he manages to say and you slowly grin and manage to get the flames close to his skin, to the point the heat stings. Yet before the fire can actually give him a peck you pull the candles away and just keep smiling at him.

“It was a jest,” you giggle and slither your fingers up to play with the flames. “Laugh. You like jests don’t you?”

He wants to curl his lips to a scowl, but his lips just twitch in some feeble attempt.

“Hm. Well, that’s all,” you end his torture and push yourself to your feet.

Before you can walk out though, you put the candle stand down on the bedside table and grab the milk of the poppy.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” you interject and twirl around. “You are going to be an uncle to twins, is that not great? We’re hoping for girls now since we have our boy…” you trail off and lean towards him to bring the milk of the poppy to his lips. “…our heir.”

Aegon lips part to attempt to argue, but you take that as a need for his sedative, so you bring the cup to his lips and help him drink the milk of the poppy. Once the cup is empty you pull away and replace it with the candle stand.

“Goodnight, Aegon. Sweet dreams,” you tease and twirl back around to leave his chambers, but not without continuing to hum your haunting song that you make sure to travel with until you know that the king or his guards will hear you. After you put some distance and your humming doesn’t echo in their ears anymore you return to the safety of your chambers in silence.

After that, you hoped not to run into Aemond, or find him in your chambers. You just don’t want to be bombarded with questions, that’s all.

Nevertheless, luckily Aemond doesn’t join you in your shared quarters until several minutes later, so you’re spared. And since you were donning your nightgown by the time he walked in he didn’t even know you had just returned either, so unknowingly both of your visits to Aegon are unspoken of, you just individually relish in the torment you gave him. Which honestly doesn’t paint you as the most sane couple or people at all, but at least now your hunger for justice is satisfied.

That’s what lets you both actually find a peaceful sleep, that little win.

Little wins are all the rage in times like now, so you cherish them. Even if they’re small and insignificant. Even if they have nothing to do with war and battle and have everything to do with your day-to-day lives, you cherish them. You cherish good mornings too, simple ones.

Happiness is even simple when you’re not taking it for granted, and when you know where to find it, like, waking up and having Aemond lay his head on your belly in an attempt to be closer to the twins, or in Aerion tugging at Aemond’s hair and fighting him to actually copy his father and lay on you instead since he understands more now that he’s 5 months old.

You can find happiness in Aemond’s faint proud smiles as he hears his son try and talk to him. In gentle kisses and sweet compliments he passes you, or something minimal like agreeing on something at the Small Council meetings which in turn overshadows the men around the table. You can even find happiness after the meetings in matters such as names for the babes that still have a ways to go before they’re born.

Does he raise a complaint though? No. He’s not needed at this precise moment so he lets you steal his time.

“If they’re boys, Aemon,” you say right away and make him blink with surprise. “Like his father. Just without the last letter so it’s not confusing.”

The corner of his lips tugs wider as he lets out an amused huff.

“And the second boy's name…well…”

“Maegor?” Aemond tries to end your sentence, but you glare at him and shake your head.

“No!” You chuckle. “No, I am not naming our son Maegor. Do you want the gods to spite us?” You ask the question in a whisper in the fear that the gods will hear you saying such a name.

Aemond snickers and leans forward to press his hand on either side of your lap as you sit on the edge of the table, and he sits in his chair. “You believe that to be true? It’s just talk.”

You scoff and shake your head again to get your point across. “Talk or not, I will not leave it to chance. Not when it comes to our children.”

Aemond hums and you slowly lower your gaze to bring up the name Helaena suggested, one you want. “What about Laenor?”

You feel his stare weighing down on you, but you can’t look him in the eye out of fear of rejection.

“My father was always good to you. We would go fishing together, and he would take you sailing with us…I do not know if you want,” you bring up different cases to try and convince him because you know how Alicent and those of the court viewed your father.

“All right,” Aemond doesn’t take time to think about it, he gives in and you slowly trail your eyes up to meet his gaze with relief and happiness.

“Really?” You query.

Aemond nods and you flash him a joyous smile.

“But,” he interjects and sits back with a lighthearted smile. “What if they’re girls or one of the other?”

You flash him a smirk and lean back on your hands. “Well, we have our first name…”

“Daenys,” you both say at the same time and you nod excitedly and beam at him.

He hums with a smile playing on his lips and you tilt your head to the side to share the other name. “And the second, Naerys. Or Daenerys. You can choose.”

“They’re the same thing,” he mutters and you scoff and lean towards him.

“No! No, they're different. Completely! But you can choose between the two.”

He rolls his eye and quips. “How generous of you.”

You shrug innocently. “I’ll even let you choose between all four if we get a boy and girl, hm? So pick!”

He hums and taps his fingers on the chair's armrest before he takes a deep breath and shares his choice. “Daenerys and Aemon.”

A pang of pain hits your heart and your smile falls, he watches you with a serious look that shows he’s being serious, so you sit up and look at him as if the answer actually hurt you. “What?” You mutter in disbelief. “But, my love.”

He raises an eyebrow and remarks. “You gave me the freedom to choose the name of our children. I chose.” He says and leaves his lips pouted as he waits for your argument.

But he is right…

“Well,” you grumble without hiding your disapproval. “Fine,” you deadpan and look down to fiddle with a gold bead that’s embroidered on your gown.

Aemond tilts his head to try and find your eyes but you keep turning your head further down so you miss the smirk that tugs on his lips as he sees you pout.

“It was jest,” he clarifies as he stifles his laugh, and leans forward to press his fists on the table.

You raise your head and snap your glare at him. “Ha. It was not funny.”

He snickers and you nudge his shoulder. “Daenys has been my top choice since we were kids. You know that.”

He grins and nods. “I remember. You bugged me about it hundreds of times.”

“Exactly,” you press with your eyebrows raised. “So?”

He unfurls his fists and slides his hand on your thigh to rub it with the gentlest touch. “Daenys and Aemon,” he now gives his honest choices.

You nod and can’t help but throw your arms around his neck since he’s already so close, and glance at his lips, but manage not to give into your temptation, instead you smirk and whisper. “Do you think Daenys and Aemon will get into as much trouble as we did?”

He gently slides his hand up your thigh before he swings his arm around your waist and quips. “You got in trouble, not me. I was there to try and get you out of trouble, or danger.”

The corner of your lips spread up and bliss glimmers in your eyes. “Okay, but you did not discourage me.”

He narrows his gaze and counters. “I did, many times. You did not listen.”

You giggle and loll your head to the side, making his eyes follow your lips moving before he flickers his gaze back up.

“Well then Daenys and Aemon will learn to be better at avoiding trouble,” you rebuttal, making him scoff and not hold back anymore. He leans in for the kiss and you let him mold his lips into yours while you wrap your arms around his neck.

As he deepens the kiss he trails his hand away from your waist and agonizingly slowly drifts his hand down your hips, and then down the length of your thigh to hike your skirt up and slither his hand under to now slide his warm palm up your thigh, leaving a blazing trail that makes you press yourself closer to him to the point your chests meet with all the breaths you take.

You want him to touch you where your body aches for him the most, but he instead grabs your hips with both hands and with a swift and fluid motion slides you off the edge of the table to make you straddle his hips.

“Aemond,” you chuckle between heavy breaths, and he responds with a cheeky smirk before closing the small gap between your lips as if it were impossible to live for a second longer without the taste of your lips.

Yet no matter how hot your passion blazes, that is suddenly snuffed out by a knock on the door. Which you should’ve seen coming, you are in the Small Council chambers, but that doesn’t matter to Aemond, he still gets frustrated.

“What?” He seethes.

You can’t help your cocky smirk before you lean in and bite his bottom lip before moving over to sit on his lap to wait and watch who dared cut into your private moment.

When the intruder walks in though you see that it’s Ser Jason.

“Forgive me for interrupting,” he offers his condolences right away with a bow of his head. “I just received news,” he shares and brings his head up to display an almost terrified look. “A riot has started in the city where the Great Sept is, and Queen Helaena and the Dowager Queen are caught within.”

Your heart drops to your stomach and while you digest the news, Aemond basically rips away from his seat to try and go out to save them himself. However, no matter how rageful he is, or his thirst for blood, neither him nor you are allowed to run to their aid.

The smallfolk are angry, your mother and Mysaria’s plan worked. The smallfolk got the message that they were trying to get across and now they want an answer, justice for not getting treated right by the King ruling over them, the King who is supposed to feed them. And they have every right to be upset, to demand an answer for how poorly they’ve all been treated, but to take it out on Helaena? That’s something you can’t accept, that’s something that doesn’t sit right with you.

If only you had known that they planned to go to the city today, and you could’ve come up with some quick excuse to keep them inside. Anything to keep them from entering the wrath of the Smallfolk after they got the food from your mother. But you did not know, and now you can’t do anything to help Helaena but watch from a tall tower as a sea of people rush through the streets. All you’re left to do is wait, and hope that the Kingsguard can do their job, while your mind conjures up violent scenarios in response to your distress and…guilt.

Nevertheless, in response to your helplessness, and the panic that makes you breathe heavily, Astraea surprises you by flying over the tall tower Aemond and you stand on, and flying down, casting a large shadow over the streets of the city as she directs herself to the Great Sept, without as much as you needing to tell her a word.

And since she is large and her purple scales stand out against the sun, you see her swoop down on a building near the Great Sept. Albeit since you can't see what she sees, you miss the fact that she was quick to find Helaena and Alicent. You miss the warning shouts from the people who had caught her flying over in a hurry, but thanks to the calamity no one paid attention to the warnings, no pair of angry eyes caught even a glimpse of the purple dragon until her shadow cast over the crowd trying to tear at Alicent and Helaena.

Even then it's too late because by the time she lands on the edge of a building, Helaena and Alicent have been pushed against, Astraea is quick to react in defense of Helaena; the person your heart is crying over at the moment, the person you hope and pray is okay, and the person you love with all your heart.

There’s no doubt she’s there defending her because even from the tower Aemond and you stand on in the Red Keep, Astraea’s rageful roar is heard. And from where Helaena and Alicent are, her roar rattles the foundations of the buildings, it shakes the pebbles on the ground, and sets fear in the people who were just brave enough to go after the Queen and her mother.

Now those people who ran at the Queen, run away from the dragon ducking her neck and head down to shield her from any incoming danger. When someone ballsy enough tries to take a step close to Helaena, Astraea begins to snarl before she opens her mouth and snaps at them, coming close to actually taking a bite, but not managing to scrape them.

She just wanted to scare them, she wouldn’t actually bite anyone unless provoked by someone. She just has her guard up and is being protective. And she doesn’t lose that fierce need, she continues to bear her teeth until she spots Alicent rushing Helaena to the wheelhouse. After that Astraea hovers above the wheelhouse and doesn't part from them until she sees them go past the Red Keep gates because that’s the only time that you actually find relief.

After that Astraea circles the castle until you’re inside tending to a distressed Helaena, while her mother gets tended to as well, albeit she actually ended up getting cut, Helaena is just shaken up and a bit dirty, that’s all, but you still help her as you swallow back your guilt.

After all, you can’t control the Smallfolk, you can’t control their emotions. You just wish you would have known Alicent wanted to take Helaena into the city. That’s all.

“Do you want to know something?” You ask Helaena.

She hums and you share your thoughts while you wipe away the dirt her face collected in that riot. “I admire you for having twins. You were young too, I can’t imagine it was easy. I don’t know how you did it.”

Helaena’s eyes flicker to you and she looks at you seriously before she interjects bluntly. “I just had them.”

You stop what you’re doing and drop your gaze to look at her with slight disbelief before you snort softly and move behind her to undo her messed-up braids.

“I…will have to go thank Astraea,” Helaena speaks up much to your surprise, since up until now it was you who was trying to make conversation. “She protected me and my mother.”

You smile proudly. “We can go after this, how about that? She should be nestled up by the cove.”

Helaena nods gently, and the door proceeds to open, causing Helaena to ball her hands, and grow stiff after having a very hard time relaxing. Which is why you get ready to kick the intruder out, but you then come to see Aemond striding in.

“What is it? Have the rest of the Kingsguard returned?” You can’t help but ask as you grab the brush from the small table.

“All but one,” he says as he looks down at his sister unable to find that peace once again.

“Did you find out what exactly happened?” You act clueless whilst you start brushing Helaena’s hair. “What started the riot?”

Aemond walks over and chooses to lean against the couch to be able to occasionally meet your gaze when you’re not focusing on what you’re doing.

“It was Rhaenyra,” he says, causing chills to crawl down your spine at the sound of your mother’s name coming out of his mouth out of slight fear he will reveal that he knows the letters you have been sending her— “she sent food in boats which in turn made the people get mad at us. As if we’re the ones holding the blockade.”

You don’t give any other reactions besides comprehension and feigned disbelief, as if this is the first time hearing about your mother’s malicious plans.

“Well,” you sigh and pretend to breathe out a stressed-out breath at the mention of your mother. “We are the crown. We’re supposed to be taking care of them. How would you react if you could not feed your son because the people who are meant to protect you aren’t doing anything to break that blockade or feed them?”

Aemond’s gaze hardens, but you don’t back down, you challenge him and press your point so he can understand where their anger is coming from.

“They’re desperate, angry, and what my mother sent only fueled them to act out in the only way they would be heard,” you argue in their defense, making Aemond drop his head and shake it in disapproval.

“We’re trying,” he snaps and hastily brings his eye up, but you’re focused on brushing Helaena’s long hair so you just feel his burning glare.

“They do not know that,” you rebuttal. “We know that here, but they do not. Look I am not telling you what to do Aemond, I am just trying to make you see why they reacted the way they did.”

He hums and you finally drift your eyes up and watch him lose his gaze on the ground to try and collect all his thoughts on the matter and on what you just told him.

“I’m all done Helaena,” you direct your attention back to her and back away to give her space. “Why don’t you change into something different, finish your tea and when you’re done, or when you want, we can go see Astraea, hm?”

Helaena nods while you walk around her to face her with a gentle smile. “You’re okay now, okay? No one is going to hurt you here.”

Her distant blue eyes meet yours and you see her fear still clinging onto her, so you attempt your best to try and rid her of that agonizing fear. But you’re also careful, you know how she is, you know she doesn’t really like being touched, nor does she tolerate any loud noises. You also know she’s still rattled and a bit paranoid that the chaos will find her in her chambers, so you’re slow as you crouch to not trigger her. You let her know in a whisper that you’re going to grab her hands before you cradle them.

“You’re okay,” you make sure to say in a gentle and caring voice so she can feel assured, so she knows that you do care about her wellbeing.

“I know,” she nods stiffly and turns your hands around to study your palms for a moment before her thumb hovers over the ice burn you carry and reminds you of what you left behind.

“I will only leave until you assure me you’re fine,” you tell her.

She draws in a deep breath while stealing a glance at her brother behind you who is paying close attention to the gentle way you’re caring for her sister. He would say perhaps you’re coddling her too much considering her age, but he also appreciates that you don’t shame her for not being the fighting type. He likes that you’re so doting and sweet with Helaena.

While Helaena herself catches that appreciation in his eye as you hold his attention captive, and wonders how you must feel that he can’t share even an ounce of care for your own siblings. She actually wonders a lot about you when you plague her dreams, she wants to tell you all that she sees about you, you and Aemond, you and…your future, but her words don’t come easy, so she’s left silent and just staring hoping that somehow someone can read what she’s thinking.

She wishes you could see that she is indeed fine, but that doesn’t come easy either with her look still captured with fear, thus she looks back at you and gives you what you asked for. “I’m fine.”

You hesitate just in case she ends up changing her mind, but when she doesn’t follow up with a protest, you draw out a deep breath of your own and stand to your given height to step away from her. “We’ll be in the Red Keep and I’ll be waiting, okay?” You let her know, making her offer you a quick nod that seems like she’s brushing you off more than anything, but you and Aemond still leave and let her be.

And it’s only once the doors of her quarters are closed that you speak on the matter at hand. “What will you do with the Kingsguard?” You ask since Alicent said they escalated what was already happening. Or they gave the people an excuse to get violent.

“Aegon's friends are the ones who triggered the smallfolk to attack when one of them cut off a man’s arm,” he grumbles in frustration. “Which I can’t say surprises me, they have been incompetent since the start, they’ll serve better as dragon fodder, but alas, men of the Night's Watch are here, so I thought of having them banished there.”

“Hm, I think that’s an excellent response to their actions,” you praise his thought. “The Night's Watch is always in need of men, especially now that winter is around the corner.”

He hums and his eye then falls on you. At first, you don’t notice, don’t feel his stare because you’re in your own mind, but as your gaze drifts to the side you catch his stare before he can look away.

Any other time you would have brushed him off, but in contrast to that hard and blazing glare moments ago, now his eye is softer, and his blue eye isn’t clouded by the darkness of his anger.

“What?” You query.

He blinks and looks ahead before he mutters. “You just would have been good at it. Being Queen.”

Out of all the times you have confessed that dream, that desire to someone, the response is always the same. They always just take it as a passing thought, as a forgotten dream you just let them know about. Aemond is different though, he’s the first one to validate that desire, that forgotten dream still very much alive in the depths of your soul.

Is it in response to try and be something special in your mother’s eyes and those who forbid you from having such a dream become a reality? Who knows, but it still lingers there and he grasps onto it, and starts to pull it out of the abyss.

You know you shouldn’t keep dreaming, you should let go of his hand to let that dream fall back into the depths of the abyss where it will be forgotten once again, but…how can you let a hand go when it’s pulling you towards a glorious light?

A part of you wants to be free from the abyss, but as you’re blinded with clarity you think about your mother and your brother, and you can’t fathom ever betraying them like that. Your path is set already, and you can’t let it crumble and destroy what you worked hard to pave. You can’t turn your back on your mother over a dream that’s out of reach, that you had once been okay with letting go of.

You have to let go and stop being so hopelessly foolish, even if the temptation is hard not to cave into.

Thus you take Aemond’s compliment with a graceful smile and add nothing else on the matter even if your heart is swooning.

Thankfully he doesn’t add to the matter so you’re saved from further temptation. Instead, you follow him to the courtyard where Aegon’s Kingsguard friends are pushed to their knees, scared and nervous without a doubt over what fate the Prince regent will bestow upon them.

“Kneel before the Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen!” A guard announces as he and you descend the stairs to the courtyard, side by side. “And his lady wife, the Princess Regent…” he trails on to say your name.

Rather than sticking by Aemond’s side and watching the sentence he will give the Kingsguard though, your eyes go wide with glee as you spot an old, old friend from your time as a ward to Lady Karstark.

“Ser Mattias,” you whisper in disbelief and pick up your skirt to rush over to him and forget about your husband and the trial he’s conducting.

“Princess,” Ser Mattias greets with disbelief as he realizes that it’s really you.

“What a joy it is to see you, and,” you pause and study his all-black attire which differs wildly from the last time you saw him sporting bright white and typical greys and blacks with the sigil of his lady's house. “…All in black.”

Ser Mattias scoffs and tilts his head down to take a look at his own attire as if taking note of what he sports now, and what it means.

“And you,” he redirects and looks back at you to bow his head, making his long, dark locks dip with him. “Princess Regent, and…” he trails off to glance over your shoulder. “Weighed down by shadows.”

You glance at your sworn protectors before you pass Ser Mattias a smile. “It’s good to see you old friend, but I have to ask why you’re all in black now.”

Ser Mattias shifts on his feet and sighs. “After Lord Bennard tried to usurp Lord Cregan, I took the mantle as a brother of the Night's Watch. Perhaps I did serve his lady wife, but I still served their house,” he shakes his head gently. “I could not stand behind the treason, the sully to their name.”

You sigh and look at him with pity. “But Ser it was not your fault, Ser Bennard’s choices were his own. Not yours.”

“It does not matter, Princess, I could not stand for it. Nor did I have a home to return to, thus I joined the Night’s Watch and I’m better because of it,” he explains, letting you fall silent as you come to understand his reasoning, while also starting to wonder about someone after he mentioned his name.

First, though you make sure Aemond is still distracted with the sentencing before you casually bring him up since it’s not out of the ordinary. “An army from the North marches South, and their Lord leads them.”

A faint smile spreads on Ser Mattias' chapped lips and he nods stiffly. “Aye, I have heard. We will cross paths if the Gods let us.”

You nod slowly in comprehension and peek over at Aemond to keep making sure he’s distracted before you bring him up since you know you can trust Ser Mattias. “If you could Ser, pass a message to Lord Stark, for me?”

The man doesn’t react as you thought he would, nor should you have expected him to in truth. He and many others knew Cregan and you were great friends. You’re just overthinking.

“Of course. You and Lord Stark are still friends?” He asks and you nod before you pass him the message before Aemond can interrupt.

“Tell him…I’m okay. I'll be okay, and if the Gods are generous perhaps we’ll join each other on the battlefield.”

Ser Mattias shows he understands with a nod before he confirms his comprehension out loud. “I will give him the message.”

You let out a deep breath and nod your head before you step back and peer over your shoulder, catching at that moment, Aemond’s eye find you before he makes his way over with his hands behind his back, his head high, his back straight, and his chest puffed out as if trying to scare away the old man sworn to chastity.

“My Prince,” Ser Mattias greets and bows his head.

You pull on a smile and wait for Aemond to fall by your side before hooking your arm around his. “My love, this is Ser Mattias, he was Lady Karstark’s sworn protector when I was her ward.”

“Aye,” the man agrees. “I watched the Princess grow up for three years of her life, and grow from disdaining the North to falling in love with it.”

You giggle and Aemond crosses an arm over his chest to grab your hand as if trying to prove something to the man before him.

“She will be able to tell you the dire need of men in the Night's Watch,” Ser Mattias makes sure to take advantage of Aemond’s presence to ask for capable bodies. “Winter is coming and the threats will worsen. So please, any prisoners you may have rotting in your dungeons, send them to us.”

You glance over at Aemond and watch him offer the man a stiff comprehensive nod before he finally breaks his silence. “I will keep it in mind, Ser. Now I’m sure you have a long journey ahead of you, and prisoners who already require your attention.”

You shoot Aemond an annoyed side eye while you slowly slip your arm away from his. Albeit he refuses to let you go, so he discreetly tugs your arm back to keep you interlocked.

“My Prince,” the man bids his farewell with a small bow. “My Princess, it was an honor seeing you again.”

“And you, Ser,” you redirect softly. “Safe travels on your way back to the Wall.”

“Thank you.” He nods and without another word turns to follow his brothers out the gates. Aemond then turns away without letting go of you so you can stick at his side as if you will wander away or get lost on your way back inside the Red Keep.

Does that stop you from peering back at the man already paces away?

No, you still peer over your shoulder not because you long to leave too, not because you will miss the man, but because you know he will see Cregan...

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

“Lord Ormund Hightower makes slow progress.” Lord Lord Jasper shares what he knows. “There is great concern that his host is threatened on two fronts by armies allied with House Beesbury.”

Something that has caught your attention about this faction is that these great armies surely do complain a lot. You don’t remember men fighting for your mother complaining or asking for more assistance for a threat that has not hit them yet.

How annoying.

“However,” the lord continues over the ruckus that comes from the streets below and is actually loud enough that you hear it from the room. “In happier tidings, Prince Daeron’s dragon, Tessarion, has at last taken to wing—“

“Eyes on the horizon!” A distant shout starts to steal your attention.

“Your brother expects to join the fight soon—”

“Dragon!”

It can’t be Astraea, they would not make any commotion for her anymore. And Vhagar wouldn't alarm them either, so is it Sunfyre? Has he returned?

“…and when he does, the Hightower host will be unstoppable,” Lord Jasper tries to talk over the commotion, but that only turns to panic.

“Dragon! Inside! Now!”

Can it be your mother? Or daemon? Both?

Aemond turns his gaze to you and you both speechlessly come to the same conclusion that the panic is caused by an unknown dragon, there isn’t any other explanation for such a commotion, so you both rip away from your chairs and stride out to the balcony, where you see all the chaos first hand.

Like when they threatened Astraea when you first got to the city, now all the guards on the walls collect all their courage and point at a large dragon. One you can’t make out right away, but as it flies toward the city at great speed you instantly recognize the spectacular beast.

“Silverwing,” you announce her presence breathlessly as your mind wanders to who her rider might be. Is it Rhaena?

Last you heard of her she went to the Vale, but she could have gone back to Dragonstone, this might be her…

But why would she come to King's Landing alone?

There doesn’t seem to be any other dragons so it’s safe to assume Silverwing is alone, so why would Rhaena fly here?

Unless…it’s someone else? Who though? You need to know.

Nevertheless, once again Aemond seems to be interlinked with your current running thoughts because without sparing another moment he pushes himself away from the railing and twirls around to storm away.

He doesn’t ask for you to come but you don’t wait for an invitation, or care if he wants you to stay, you follow at his pace and can’t help but wonder who could be mounted on Silverwing. You want to think of anyone, someone you might know, but no one comes to mind, and those who do would not be stupid enough to bring their dragon to King’s Landing for a damn joyride. Because that’s what it seems like it is, a joyride.

Silverwing does not seem to be attacking, nor does she linger over one place. They don’t even land, they just fly, so whoever is on Silverwing must be pretty ballsy, and you need to know who it is, or perhaps protect them from Aemond and Vhagar’s wrath in some discreet way where it seems to Aemond that you’re attacking when you’re only scaring them away so they’re out of his reach.

But you can only do that if Aemond doesn’t forbid you from flying out after against them. You have already talked about this matter and come to a conclusion, but you still expect him to stop you, to tell you to stay put and wait for him to come back with a report.

Albeit he does not, he doesn’t even try to protest in some discreet way. When you finally reach a courtyard he doesn’t stop you from mounting a horse. He lets you ride out with him side by side, and between your curiosity and disbelief, you feel glad that he’s keeping to his word. It only makes your blood pump faster.

Yet nothing beats that rush when you hear your dragon’s threatening cry as she matches your enthusiasm and flies out to meet you without having to be told verbally, without having to go out to meet her like Aemond to Vhagar. As if in sync with each other's desires, Astraea flies past the city walls at the same time your horse sprints out of the city gates, and without having to come to a stop, and without having her land on some empty patch of land, you throw your arm out and stretch your fingers out.

Astraea’s shadow then casts over Aemond and you as she reaches you in a split second, but she doesn’t slow down to wait for you, she keeps at her. speed, seeming like she’s going to fly past you, but then a rope brushes over the tip of your fingers, so you grab onto it and wrap it around your wrist to be pulled off the horse as she continues flying forward; making you look like a sailor swinging across the deck of their ship, or out to danger.

Now, you usually don’t tend to mount Astraea using the rope, you tend to climb her, but in emergencies such as now, you use the rope, and strain all your upper body muscles to scale up the rope as she’s flying at a great speed over green lands.

Once you throw yourself over your leather saddle, Astraea peers back to make sure you’re secured on her back before she lets out an excited screech that matches the excitement you feel pumping to your heart, and then flaps her purple wings to pick up her speed and go faster than she already was without worrying over Vhagar or Aemond. You leave them behind because you know they’ll eventually catch up and pursue the stranger on Silverwing, the dragon that once belonged to Queen Alysanne, and who is mother to your own dragon.

Besides, leaving Aemond and Vhagar behind gives you time to know who rides Silverwing without having to be hostile. However, since Silverwing does have the lead, there's a pretty big gap between Astraea and her as she seems to be heading back to Dragonstone. Not like her having the advantage really matters, Astraea can be fast, especially when she’s excited or agitated, like now she’s as curious and rushed with as much thrilling excitement as you are.

So much so that she flaps her large wings and then dips down with her wings tucked to gain speed, managing after a few flaps to get close enough that you’ll be able to see who Silverwings rider is. You just need them to look down, but it doesn’t seem like they’re aware of you, or Astraea. Which indicates that they must be brand new to dragon riding, or stupidly careless.

Either or you need to know who they are exactly, but your voice won’t be carried out through the rushing wind, Astraea’s can though, so she speaks for you with a rather unthreatening chitter. She’s just loud and harsh enough that her noise will travel fast through the air and hit the ears of Silverwing, and her rider.

And as expected without having to call out a second time, Silverwing tilts her slim silver body to the side, letting you see the back of the rider before they look back and reveal who they are; some middle-aged man, with a plump face that matches his rather plump body, dark greying hair that flies over his shoulders, and a terrified look painted on his pale face.

He also seems to be dressed rather poorly, so does this mean he’s some bastard commoner? Did your mother really become so daring as to trust the Smallfolk to ride dragons for her? Because there’s no way Silverwing went out in search of this man, she hardly flew too far from Dragonstone, she isn’t as adventurous as Seasmoke, and with no rider, there wasn’t a reason to fly out to King's Landing or any city, so that can only mean that this was your mothers doing, but why didn’t she tell you?

Did she know you would be against it? Sure you have a soft spot for the Smallfolk, but to trust them with dragons? You can’t really trust strangers with polluted dragon blood. They can turn on you before you can know it. You can’t trust them, they’re not family.

But she seemed to trust them…so you have to…make sure Vhagar doesn’t touch them.

If only the man knew that you’re no threat, he looks like he’s about to shit himself with how scared he looks over your sudden appearance. That will not bode well for Silverwing. She’ll sense his fear and take you and Astraea as a threat, but there’s no way to make the man understand you won’t hurt them, you’ll just have to make Astraea slow down to put some distance between her and Silverwing.

“<Slow Astraea,>,” you tell your dragon in High Valyrian as you lean forward to caress her neck. “<We're on the same side.>”

Astraea chitters softly and tries to do as you say, making the man’s eyebrows pinch together and then ease as his fear turns to confusion. Yet Silverwing does not seem to go through the same emotions, because from one second to another she whips her tail down and smacks Astraea across the face.

“<Astraea!>” You call out in horror and watch her squirm her head out of pain before her brown eyes snap up and she lets out a pissed roar. “<Calm down!>” You try to ease her quick risen anger.

However, a deep guttural roar rips through the cloud bank behind you in response to Astraea’s rageful roar, and it seems that Vhagar gives fuel to Astraea’s anger because she then does exactly as you wanted her to do before, she slows down and hides from Silverwing in the cloud bank, causing the man to think you and your dragon stopped the chase because you’re out of sight.

Alas, that’s what Astraea wanted Silverwing and the rider to think. She wants them to lower their guard and waits for them to descend from greater heights to be just low enough that they’re close to the body of water you fly over.

You know she’s up to something, you can hear her groaning, and see her gaze pierced ahead and then fall, but rather than stopping her, you let her give in to her anger so you can scare away the rider and Silverwing because as you pay attention, you hear Vhagar. You see her in the distance and you know Aemond won’t hesitate to attack. Thus you let Astraea act out.

You actually let a smirk play on your lips, you relish in the adrenaline rushing through your veins as you think of what Astraea has planned. Which will give this new rider the wrong idea, but that’s what you need at the moment, you can’t blow your cover, and…a part of you doesn’t care that he gets the wrong idea about you. You…salivate over the thought of having him be scared of you.

It’s why with that mischievous longing in your heart, you welcome Astraea’s charge towards the water as you remain undetected. When you approach the water's surface you duck your head and draw in a deep breath to hold it in as your dragon dives in the cold water. And considering she’s more than fond of these antics when you’re riding her, you don’t show fear or panic, you actually tear your eyes open and find awe as you see all the wonders that live in the water.

They’re simple wonders like fish, simple deep and blue waters, and common undersea plants, but as if it’s the first time taking it all in you’re completely captivated by it all, but not forgetful of your current dire situation. You prepare for Astraea to resurface by closing your eyes and ducking your head again. Once your drenched body is smacked by the cold rushing breeze, you wipe the water off your eyes before you open them and then sit up, coming to see at that moment, as your eyes connect the shadow over you to its owner, that Astraea is now directly below Silverwing, and the silver dragon is none the wiser.

Silverwing did not hear Astraea dive in the water, nor does she catch her and you flying out and torpedoing toward her. Her rider is in the same affair, only Aemond and Vhagar see what you’re doing from a distance, and you know for a fact that neither will give you away. A proud and malicious smirk actually spreads on Aemond’s face, easing the frustration that has him all stiff. And that pride only heightens and mixes with awe as he catches how Astraea opens her mouth to get ready for the attack as she gets near the silver dragon.

Albeit just before she can chomp down on Silverwing, the silver dragon finally catches Astraea and is able to swerve the attack, making Astraea bite air.

“Damn,” you hiss under your breath and tug the handles away to steer Astraea away, but Silverwing is rightfully pissed. She flies head first toward Astraea before she tilts her body back to hook her claws on the Astraea.

However, before your dragon is gashed, she flips her body swiftly to be on her back and have you be upside down for a second before she flips to her other side and puts some distance between her and Silverwing.

“<Calm down now Astraea. That should be enough,” you tell your dragon as you pat her neck. “You did good girl. Leave her be now.>”

Astraea roars out at Silverwing, and the silver dragon responds with a louder and higher-pitched roar, but neither dragon goes for another attack. Astraea listens to you and lets Silverwing gain the advantage. The rider steals paranoid glances at you, but you don’t attempt to share any reassuring looks so he knows he’ll be fine, you feed his fear by passing him a malicious look that is the last thing he sees before he finally gains a good distance from you and your raging dragon.

After that, since you’re done with your charged pursuit you just follow him the rest of the way to Dragonstone since Aemond and Vhagar are still on Silverwing’s trail. You get so close to home in fact, that Astraea has to swerve to one side to avoid flying over land, in doing so letting you see the welcoming and relieving sight of your mother.

Your mother is there on the ground, and not alone either, she’s guarded by Syrax, and the great Bronze Fury, Vermithor, he’s there too, which is unbelievable really, but you can only give your attention to your mother who is struck with surprise as she sees you passing by. While you come to realize at the same time she does that you’re just out of reach, but still far from one another and not able to touch. The only thing you can do is pass her a prideful look for her achievement because regardless of your distrust and disapproval of this new plan, you’re still proud that she got to achieve such a feat in not only gaining a rider for Silverwing, but Vermithor too it seems! Proving how capable she is not only as a ruler but a warrior too.

You’re proud of that and you make sure she sees it with your smile not only on your lips but dancing in your eyes too.

Yet your pride and bliss are fleeting, taking your adrenaline with it when you fly over the shore and see Seasmoke with a rider. Which shouldn’t be surprising as it is, your father is gone and Seasmoke is free to bond with anyone. It was going to happen eventually, but…he was your father's dragon, he was a part of your father once and your heart always remembers your father every time you look at Seasmoke. Your heart aches every time you see the silver-grey dragon because you think of your beloved father.

Now when you look at Seasmoke you’ll see a new rider and the cruel reminder that your father won’t ever come back. He’s gone forever, and Seasmoke will now be someone else’s. He’ll be a part of someone new, someone…

Wait…

You blink and as the cloud of grief passes you come to recognize the man on Seasmoke; it’s Addam! Addam of Hull?!

But…but how?!

Who…

Oh…

Oh!

It’s not beyond the realm of possibilities, the realization that slams into you. There are other possibilities of course, but why else would your grandfather pester you and bother himself to introduce you to Addam’s brother Alyn?

You thought it was weird at that moment. Why would you care who that man is, and why would your grandfather put so much trust in a man when it came to sending him to King's Landing to check on you last year?

It’s because…Addam and Alyn, are his offspring. Potentially, but very likely. It explains why Addam is on Seasmoke!

Damn, now how can you assure yourself that it’s actually fact and not a wild assumption? Ask your grandfather? Yeah right, like he would ever confess to it. And it’s doubtful anyone else knows if it’s true.

Did your grandmother know?

Who knows.

Regardless, you want to know now, and you need to tell Aemond about Seasmoke too when you get home. It doesn’t seem like he noticed Addam and Seasmoke from where he was and because he turned away before he could get a closer look.

However, you don’t follow him home, Aemond leads you and Astraea to an elevated green mountain near the town Sharp Point rather than returning home right away, which…can’t be good. If he wanted time alone he would find it at home, not near this town.

Yet here he is and he’s pissed. You can see his face contorted with anger, his jaw clenched, and his gaze distant the moment you dismount your dragons.

“You saw it?” Is the first thing he says as you make your way to each other. “The dragons and their common born riders.”

You try to figure out his thought process, but there’s also so much in your mind, so your curiosity is second place to everything else.

“I saw it, and I saw Seasmoke too,” you share, making him grimace and turn his head away to simmer in his growing anger.

“But,” you add and step closer to him. “That’s not the most important fact. I know his rider.”

Aemond’s gaze immediately returns to you and his gaze narrows while his eye digs itself deep inside you to try and figure out what you mean by that.

“He has a brother that my grandfather introduced me to when we went to Driftmark,” you continue to heighten his jealousy and curiosity. “I thought it was weird that he would bother himself to introduce us, and then he revealed that he sent that brother to our engagement tourney, and now I think he did all this because…they might be…his bastards?” You say more like a question as if Aemond would know the truth.

“It explains why Addam can ride Seasmoke,” you explain what is clear, but then begin to drift back to confusion and cluelessness. “But I do not know, I can’t be sure. And it’s not like I can just ask my grandfather.”

Aemond swallows thickly and turns away to get lost in thought. You let your mind wander too, but as you do you also remember where you are, and what you think Aemond might do to this town in response to his anger for your mother’s achievements.

“Do you realize what this means? This dragonrider?” Aemond makes his silence short and turns to face you, making you slowly turn to face his gaze now not tense with jealousy, but softened with pity.

“If he is Lord Corlys’ bastard then he and the brother might be legitimized, and one of them may be turned heir of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides,” he shares what you did not even realize, you were so stuck on the fact that he might be your grandfather's bastard that you did not see the bigger picture. And now that you’re seeing it in its totality, that worry you had for this town is completely diminished.

“But,” you argue effortlessly as if weakened by the cruel but real assumption. “He said he would make Aerion his heir.”

Aemond sighs deeply and closes the gap between you to grab your arms and hold your gaze with your breaths brushing over each other's faces, and the warmth that radiates off him blanketing your still damped body.

“But now his bastards are fighting wars and bonding with dragons, they’re older, don’t you think he’ll favor him over our son?” He presses and only makes a sadness puncture your heart, and the need to know the truth that much more significant. After all, why wouldn’t you expect something else to be taken from you?

They took your role as heir, and now they might take your son's role as heir of Driftmark.

“Do you…” you trail off and drop your head to try and find an answer, to try and contradict that new fear Aemond planted in your mind. “Do you think he would?” You ask with a great sadness dulling your eyes while also making them gleam so brightly with the tears that cloud them.

“Why wouldn’t he? They already took your role as heir,” he says in a softer tone now as he reaches over to grab your face, forbidding you from feeling alone as your heart is once again troubled with sorrow, disbelief, and…growing anger.

Anger you can’t exactly feed without knowing if it’s true though. You need to know if Addam and Alyn are really his bastards before you can let this anger take root.

You need to know.

“I need to talk to someone,” you tell Aemond with determination. “I need to know if it’s true or not, and I know my grandfather would never say, so I need to go ask someone who will know.”

Aemond blinks and his eyebrows knit together. At first, he assumes you’ll ask one of the Hull boys, but you then tell him otherwise.

“I need to go ask the Red Priestess, Kinvara, she’ll know.”

Aemond parts his lips to rebuttal but you cup his hands and assure his worry. “I’ll be okay. I trust her. She’ll tell me the truth.”

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- something wicked this way comes ;(;

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan

[nats-firefly]

i touch my phone as if it's your face

natasha romanoff x reader

summary: nat's on a mission every valentine's day. this time she can call you. right?

warnings: none really, just kinda sad

a/n: happy valentine's day to all my long distance gays. i feel your pain. this was something i very quickly put together. vent fic, sue me.

words: 750 | feedback is always welcome | masterlist

divider source | gif source

You smiled at your reflection in the mirror, swiping the tip of your index finger under your lip to fix your lipstick. It had been over an hour since you started getting ready, the anticipation of seeing your girlfriend growing bigger every second that ticked by. 

Valentine’s day is apparently a surprisingly busy time for superheroes, in all the years the two of you have been together, Natasha has been away for all of them. But this year she promised you you’d be able to call and have dinner together. She was undercover as some unreasonably rich guy’s assistant like she had been for Tony back in the day. While he was enjoying the night with his girlfriend, she’d have the chance to call you after doing recon in his private study. Allegedly. 

Natasha being away meant you didn’t get to talk or text or see her very often. It also meant since this was your first time seeing her in months, you wanted to dress up for her. You even put on a special set of lingerie under your clothes so you could give her a show after dinner. 

You had spent the better part of the day preparing for your date with Natasha. You made a hearty plate of pasta, poured yourself a glass of wine. You even lit a candle. Then you waited. 

You picked up your phone to check your messages to see if Natasha had said anything. 

Can’t wait for our date tonight. Delivered.

She hadn’t texted you back since you sent her that text this morning. You didn’t know which part of the world she was in, but from the small details she’d told you it didn’t seem like she was out of the country. Maybe it was just not dinnertime for her yet. Maybe something was wrong. Maybe she’d been caught.

You checked your phone again, but nothing had changed. Maybe you just needed to get your mind off of it. You took your glass of wine and settled yourself on the couch, putting on an episode of your favorite show. One glass turned into two, which turned into three. It was late at night, so you decided to reheat your cold and forgotten plate of pasta. 

As you slumped against the kitchen counter waiting for your food to reheat, your phone screen lights up, followed by the repeated vibrations signaling a video call. Your face lit up and your heart beat loudly in your chest as you clicked answer.

“Baby,” Natasha breathed in relief when she saw your face pop up on her phone. She had been looking forward to talking to you all day. Her ‘boss’ had sent her on a wild last minute goose chase to set up a Valentine’s surprise for his girlfriend. In true rich guy fashion he had done none of the work, but Natasha needed to stay on his good side for a little while longer. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Nat,” Your finger slides over her cheek and down the side of your phone. Your eyes tear up a bit. Your chest aches and your lip trembles. “I really miss you.”

“Me too, angel,” Natasha says, she notices the change in your expression. She thinks about quitting her job. “Happy Valentine’s Day, malysh.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” You answer. The microwave beeps, but you ignore it, deciding to focus on the redhead on your phone instead. You want to crawl through the screen. Desperation rises in your chest. You don’t know what to do with yourself. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Natasha feels a knot in her throat. She hates being away from you. “Tell me how you’ve been, baby. How’s work? Did that guy in accounting get fired?”

“Oh, Tom? Yeah he-” You were interrupted by a muffled male voice. Then things happened very quickly.

“Oh,” Natasha said, being caught off guard then briefly looking at you with an almost apologetic look.

“Natalie, can you fi-” Call disconnected. 

You stared back at your reflection on the phone screen. You got two minutes with her. 

You went to bed still wearing the clothes and lingerie that were supposed to end up on the floor that night. With the plate of pasta forgotten in the microwave, and mascara stains on your pillow.

As you numbly scrolled through your phone every Valentine’s day post was like a slap to the face. 

Everyone had their someone. Except you. 

Happy fucking Valentine’s Day.

[marlynnofmany]

Recreational Food

I admired the scenery as we walked. “I’m glad we came during the dry season. Looks like there wouldn’t be much solid ground otherwise.” This wide flat area was pretty clearly the flood plains for the river just over the hillside, with several tiny plateaus where huge trees had escaped getting washed away. Everything else was dirt.

Paint spread her arms beside me, basking in the sun like the little lizardy alien she was. “I’m just glad to be outside! It’s been so long since we had a delivery on an actual planet, not to mention one that smells nice.”

It smelled like dry river mud to me, which was nice enough, but maybe those trees were extra appealing to Heatseeker senses. There was a scent of something kind of like rosemary on the breeze, now that I thought about it.

Paint was still talking. “We’re not even in a hurry today! The drop-off went fine, so we can stroll back to the ship at our own pace. This is lovely. I could stay out here all day.”

The ground rumbled. Splashes and the bleats of distressed animals sounded from the direction of the river. The rumbling got louder.

I asked, “Are you familiar with the concept of ‘jinxing it’?”

Before Paint could answer, a stampede swept over the hill toward us. Paint screamed and bolted. I ran after her, frantically searching for a plateau that was both climbable and close.

“This one!” I yelled over the noise of what had to be hundreds of alien fauna. Vaguely buffalo-shaped things without horns. I’d study them more closely when they weren’t closing in fast. Paint barely heard me, so I towed her over to the plateau and boosted her up. She wasn’t a natural climber, but she made do, scrambling to safety with me close behind. We made it out of trampling range just in time.

I clambered up and lay flat under the spreading tree while Paint hyperventilated beside me, an ocean of brown fur rolling by underneath. The rocky ground shook and the tree showered us with leaves. But the branches didn’t fall and neither did we, and eventually the herd calmed down from whatever had startled them.

The problem was, they calmed down before they finished passing our tiny island. Thundering footsteps slowed to a mooing, moaning amble, with buffalo-things surrounding us for a good distance in all directions.

My phone rang. We both twitched. Luckily the animals were loud enough to miss it. I pulled the phone from my pocket, hands vibrating with adrenaline, and answered a call from the captain.

“Are you safe?” she asked, her voice distant over the phone. “We got a report of local fauna moving unexpectedly.”

I laughed, wide-eyed while Paint tried to get her breathing under control. “Yeah, we barely made it. I’m not sure how we’re going to get back, though. They’re all around us, and I don’t like our chances if we try to just walk through.”

“Yes, don’t get too close.” I heard claws on keys as Captain Sunlight checked the local information bank. “These creatures are known to be hostile. They also treat approaching shuttles like threats, which doesn’t bode well for an air rescue.”

I tried to breathe deeply and get my heart rate back to normal. “Threats that they should attack, or run from?”

“This says they face off with shuttles, and defend whatever territory they’re occupying at the time. Attempts to chase them away have been unsuccessful, as have attempts to lead them away.”

“Yeah, that’s the worst,” I said, glancing up at the thick branches above. “Our vertical access is garbage right now anyway. We’d have a hard time getting into a shuttle.”

Paint was looking a little more calm, though worried. “Maybe they’ll wander away on their own?”

I relayed the question in case Captain Sunlight hadn’t heard it. She said, “Maybe. Let me contact the local authorities for more information. Stay safe; I’ll call you back.”

I said goodbye and put the phone away, then just lay there listening to my heartbeat and the various grunts from below. Paint sniffed audibly, no doubt appreciating the spicy tree smell. I tried to enjoy the view. The buffalo-things had heavy paws instead of hooves, and their faces were misshapen to my Earth eyes, more mooselike than anything. The thick brown fur was normal enough, though.

I was trying to think of what breed of dog it reminded me of when a cloud covered the sun.

A dark cloud. The kind that might be full of rain.

“Oh no,” I said.

“That can’t be rain,” Paint said, scrambling up. “It’s not the rainy season!”

I got to my feet, clutching a branch. “It could be rain. A flash flood might solve one of our problems, but…”

“Oh, that would be so much worse!” Paint hugged her arms close. The air hadn’t gotten that much cooler yet, but rain could be bad for a cold-blooded Heatseeker. And that was even without considering whether we’d have to swim for it.

I looked around frantically. “There’s got to be something we can do. Maybe throw a rock and scare them into stampeding away again?”

We scoured the rocky plateau, but nothing came off bigger than a fingernail, and the only things up there aside from the tree were some sparse bits of grass/moss and stray dirt. Even the tree didn’t have any small branches that looked easily snapped off; they were all thick limbs. I could probably climb out over the herd if I really needed a stick, but that did not look worth it.

I checked my pockets. “Wait, I have food. Maybe that’ll help.” We’d left right before lunch, and I’d grabbed a few portable things in case the delivery took too long. I thought hard about what kind of food these creatures might like, and how they might react to it, as I knelt and emptied my pockets onto the ground.

It was all Earth stuff from the import sector of the last space station we’d stopped at. A packet of turkey jerky. Freeze-dried strawberries. A tube of peanut butter that had thankfully not ruptured in the scramble up here. Pop Rocks.

I picked up that last one, thinking fast.

Paint was reading the label on the peanut butter. “Oh, this is the one some of your people are allergic to. I suppose it’s too much to hope these creatures are as well?”

“I have a better idea,” I said, eyeing the lowest branch. It was sturdy. There were creatures below. And they were all wet from the river. I turned to Paint. “Throwing something might startle them enough to stampede if we hit one just right, but I’ll bet that’s not as startling as the sound of sudden hissing from the back of their neck.”

“Which of your foods does that??” Paint asked.

I held up the brightly colored package. “Recreational food. They’re basically sugar crystals with tiny pockets of compressed air inside. They pop and hiss when they dissolve.”

Paint shook her head. “I’m not even going to ask why.”

“Great.” I shoved the package into a thigh pocket that I’d be able to reach easily, then hooked an arm over the branch and climbed up.

“Be careful!”

“I will,” I said as the clouds darkened further. Lying on the branch like a particularly awkward jungle cat, I scooted over the edge of the plateau. None of the creatures seemed to notice, busy as they were in nosing the dusty ground for sprouted grass, or whatever passed for it here. Good. I wanted their heads down.

When I was over a big one, I stopped and got out the pack, oh so carefully. Dropping it now could well be the kind of mistake I’d regret for a long time. I ripped open the package with care, knees clamped around the branch, as thunder rumbled closer than I’d like.

Then I gauged the angle carefully, and poured a stream of Pop Rocks directly onto the buffalo-thing’s neck.

I heard it crackle and pop as the sugar dissolved in the wet fur. Suddenly everything was panicked bellows and the thunder of feet. I clung to the branch, hoping desperately that it wasn’t about to snap off under my weight. All I could see below me was waves of brown fur.

It felt like the stampede went on for longer this time. Maybe because I didn’t have any climbing to distract me; all I could do was hold onto the branch like the most desperate of baby monkeys, and hope it held.

It held.

Finally the rumbling footsteps receded over the hill, leaving churned-up dirt below and a very grateful Paint behind me.

“You did it! It worked! Now let’s go; I think I see rain!”

She was right. I shimmied back onto solid ground to pick up the rest of my snacks, shoving them into pockets alongside the crumpled Pop Rocks package, then I helped Paint scramble down from the plateau.

Wind had picked up, blowing rain towards us in a visible wall from the west. But something silver glinted in the sky to the north, which grew swiftly into the welcome sight of a local rescue shuttle.

We ran for it. It landed on the riverbed, door open and arms waving from inside, and we dove in just before the rain hit.

“Safe!” Paint exclaimed as the door shut and a Frillian in a uniform guided her into a chair. “That was too many close calls for one day!”

I followed the directions to take my own seat as the shuttle lifted off. A different Frillian handed me a blanket, though I didn’t need it. Nice and warm, though. I asked Paint, “Ready to go back to the indoors for a while?”

She settled a heat shawl around her shoulders and sighed with relief. “I suppose so. Much less chance of getting trampled or frozen there.”

The official next to me asked, “What caused the herd to move away? We were told they had surrounded the area.”

I grinned and dug out the crumpled package. “Recreational food!” There were still a few Pop Rocks caught in one corner, so I dumped them into my mouth to demonstrate. The expressions on the rescuers’ faces were great as the candy hissed and popped on my tongue. “I poured thith down on a big one,” I explained around it.

Paint added, “It worked great! Scared them right away.”

The officials exchanged a look, then asked to see the package. I happily handed it over and explained where I’d gotten it. Paint said our courier ship would be happy to arrange a delivery of some if they wanted.

By the time we reached our ship, the local officials were ready to talk to the captain about ordering some recreational Earth food, to use for an entirely different purpose than it was made for. But that would hardly be the first time.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[joelscruff]

one thing i'm missing (joel miller/reader) PART ONE

hi there ! i'm new to the tlou fandom but not new to fic, and watching the show over the past few months inspired me to return to fic writing. the idea for this has been milling around in my head for a good chunk of time now and i finally felt ready to put pen to paper and get this thing started. i've already posted this to ao3 if you prefer that medium, but i'll also be posting it here now. let me know what you think!

summary: you and joel accidentally end up falling asleep together, and what follows is the beginning of a quiet and tender relationship neither of you saw coming. rating: 18+ explicit (this part is not explicit but this fic will be) warnings: (for future parts) smut, age difference (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 50s), praise kink - will add more as fic progresses word count: about 2.6k

You don't, under absolutely any circumstances, talk about it.

It started about a month ago, after all the shit that happened with that monster, David. After Ellie had decided she wanted to start sleeping alone.

It hadn't really been a conscious decision on her part, but you'd noticed that first night how she'd distanced herself from you and Joel when it was time to sleep. She'd curled up against the far wall of the basement with barely a word, shutting herself off entirely while you'd tended to Joel's injury. Prior to this – ever since Joel was stabbed – Ellie had started sleeping at his side, head on his chest, listening to his heart and hoping against all hope that it kept beating. You'd slept a few feet away, hoping desperately for the same thing.

After David, she avoided physical contact entirely. You and Joel wordlessly understood, though you could tell it alarmed and concerned him. Though he'd been in and out of consciousness for the past few weeks you know he'd become accustomed to having her at his side, curled into him with that familiar daughterly affection he'd been missing for twenty years. Seeing her ultimately decide that she no longer wanted that closeness, probably feared it, distressed him greatly.

“Fuckin' bastard,” Joel had murmured to himself that first night as you cleaned his wound – you'd learned what to do from watching Ellie, “I'll fucking kill him.”

“Shhh,” you'd hushed him, keeping your voice low in case Ellie was still awake, “He's dead and gone, she took care of it.”

“Shouldn't have had to,” he'd hissed, “Fuckin' bastard.”

He'd slept poorly. You knew because every so often you'd hear him mutter something else to himself about David between short fits of sleep. You didn't sleep much either, partly because in the wake of Ellie's sudden distance it was now your job to monitor Joel's wound, but also because you felt the same way Joel did. The thought of that monster... what he'd done to Ellie and what he'd tried to do... you'd never felt so much disdain and hatred for one person in your life. Every time you closed your eyes all you could see was the look on her blood-spattered face when you'd both found her, the way she'd barely been able to speak... you could only imagine how much worse the images behind Ellie's eyelids were.

So she slept alone now, which meant Joel slept alone.

For a little while, that is.

-

After a few days of short spurts of travel and staying in more abandoned houses (Joel wasn't well enough to walk much, though he tried to deny it, much to the frustration of you and Ellie) you'd set up camp on the outskirts of a small community. Ellie hadn't talked much and Joel hadn't been fully in his right mind since you left that first house, so the decision-making had fallen to you for the time being. Truthfully, you were done with the mouldy mattresses and hard concrete of those suburban basements, the smell of rotting food and being bothered by mice and cockroaches while you tried – and failed – to fall asleep. Neither Joel nor Ellie argued when you suggested setting up a campsite in the woods for a change of scenery.

The snow had melted quite a bit and there hadn't been anything fresh in almost a week, the temperature rising rapidly the further you walked. The idea of sleeping underneath the stars again with fresh air in your lungs and the sound of the wind blowing through the trees was enough to keep you going that day. That night, you'd watched as Joel made a fire with the materials you'd collected, Ellie already bundled up inside her sleeping bag a few meters away.

“Hey, you sure you're not gonna be cold over there?” you'd called to her gently, already knowing the answer.

“I'm good,” she'd replied, sounding earnest enough, “If I get cold I'll move.”

You'd sighed quietly, turning back toward the fire. Joel was blowing lightly on some kindling, eyebrows furrowed in thought. You used this rare moment of him being distracted to analyze his face; the dark circles beneath his eyes had been growing more prominent over the past few days, and he'd gotten into the unconscious habit of blinking very slowly, like he was always just a few seconds from sleep. You'd never seen him look this exhausted.

“You need to sleep,” you'd murmured, and his eyes had snapped up to meet yours instantly, “I'm serious, Joel, you look...”

“I'm fine.”

“You don't look fine,” you shifted your eyesight to the fire, lifting your hands to warm your palms, “You look like you haven't slept in days, which you literally haven't, by the way.”

“I've slept,” he'd grunted, turning his attention back to the fire as well.

“Yeah, for maybe twenty minutes at a time.”

“Well, maybe if I wasn't bein' woken up every twenty minutes by you checking if I'm still breathin',” his voice was hard and cold, but you were used to it.

“Don't be dramatic,” you'd snapped back, “I check you maybe twice a night now, if even that. Sorry for wanting to make sure you're okay.” The last few words had come out shakier than you'd intended.

He'd inhaled deeply, and you could see him looking at you again in your peripheral vision, “You're right, I'm sorry. I'm being an asshole. As usual.”

“You're not an asshole,” you'd muttered, “you're tired. And so am I.”

You'd sat together in silence for a few moments before Joel had reached behind him for his pack, digging out the blanket he'd started using in lieu of his old sleeping bag. He'd decided to leave that behind; it was what you and Ellie had used to get him back to that first house, the one Callus had dragged across the icy terrain with a bloodied and near-death Joel as its only occupant. He'd pissed himself in it, which he'd attributed as the main reason for leaving it. But you knew the truth: he'd spent too long wrapped up inside of it during that period of time to ever get a good night's sleep from it again. It needed to be put out of its misery.

Both you and Ellie had offered to give him your own but he refused every time, repeatedly stating that the blanket Ellie had found was warm enough, if not even warmer than the sleeping bag had been. You honestly didn't know if he was telling the truth, but he gave you no choice but to believe him.

“You take first watch, then.” he said quietly, “We're out in the open again, gonna have to stay alert.”

“Got it,” you were a bit embarrassed by your brief moment of vulnerability, but you'd quickly busied yourself with picking up the rifle to hold it in your lap.

You'd watched as he spread out the blanket on the ground, carefully kneeling down and wincing at the pull of his stitches. He laid down on the edge of it, then reached over and pulled the other side over his body like a makeshift sleeping bag. Sighing contentedly, he'd closed his eyes.

Despite how much older than you he was, the word adorable couldn't help but cross your mind.

“Goodnight,” he mumbled quietly to you, and you'd forced yourself to look down at the rifle so he wouldn't catch you staring.

“Night, Joel.”

-

You'd quickly learned that Joel's new blanket was in fact not warmer than his sleeping bag. After a few hours of keeping watch, you decided to check on both Ellie and Joel to make sure they were doing alright. Ellie was fast asleep and didn't look to be shivering or experiencing a bad night's sleep; she actually looked more peaceful than you'd seen her for a long time. You'd smiled fondly, fighting back the urge to push her hair out of her eyes; she'd made things very clear and you weren't going to overstep.

You wandered over to Joel and the contrast between he and Ellie was staggering; there was no peace here. He was wide awake, shivering ferociously and hunched in on himself with his hands cupped around his mouth as he blew on them for warmth.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you'd immediately dropped the rifle and leaned down to him, “why the fuck didn't you tell me you were freezing?”

It actually wasn't a very cold night, but the combination of Joel's thin blanket, his injury, and the fact that he was overwhelmingly exhausted were just making everything ten times worse. He also hadn't slept outside for weeks. You immediately began to regret the decision to camp tonight.

“Hold on,” you'd said quickly, scrambling back up to grab your own sleeping bag. You unzipped it so it was wide, then draped it over Joel's shivering form, “I'm gonna give you some body heat, okay? Don't make it weird.” You'd only said the last part because you knew he would protest.

You'd crawled underneath both layers of material and without any hesitation wrapped your arms around Joel, ignoring his shaky mutterings of “I'm okay” and “you don't need to”. He'd surrendered very quickly, relaxing into your embrace as you ran your hands up and down his arms at the fastest pace you could muster. You alternated between his arms and hands, taking them in yours and rubbing your palms against them like you were trying to start a fire, huffing hot breath against his skin. Beneath the blanket, you entwined your legs with his, pulling his socked feet against your ankles and trapping them there to warm them up.

It only took a few moments for the heavy shakes to stop and for Joel's breath to even out again. Despite this, you stayed where you were and kept doing what you could to keep his temperature stable. As he warmed up, he began to feel more like himself; he was no longer a cold statue but the warm and solid man you'd come to recognize, and you were hyper-aware of the fact that despite spending so much time with each other you'd never actually been this close to him. His arms, strong and steady beneath his coat, the same arms that carried around that heavy pack all day, the arms that cradled the rifle, they now laid loose and tender under your touch. His hands, calloused and rough around the edges but soft at the palms, the same hands that set the fire still burning a few feet away, the hands that once held his daughter and had learned to hold Ellie's – and now yours, feeling like in some way they belonged there.

You'd known you felt something for Joel, but you'd never realized how strong and real that something was until it was literally in your embrace.

Without speaking you'd laid your head on his chest, closing your eyes and doing your damnedest to fight back the sudden tears that were threatening to well up. Holy shit, was all you could think, a warmth you'd never felt in your entire life radiating in your chest and somehow extending toward him. Holy fucking shit. It was like time had stopped and all you could feel was him.

You'd looked up at his face, needing to see if he felt it too, felt you the way you felt him, but your eyes widened slightly when you saw that his were closed, mouth slightly agape. There it was, that peace you'd seen on Ellie's face, now transferred to Joel's. For a brief second you felt panic, but it was immediately interrupted by the light snore that emitted from his open mouth. He'd fallen asleep.

And a few moments later, so had you.

-

That was the first night you'd slept solid without waking up even once. Not just since Joel had been stabbed, but since the pandemic had started to begin with. You can't recall ever having such a peaceful, dreamless, absolutely soul-refreshing sleep. And neither had Joel; when you woke the next morning he was still fast asleep in your embrace, that peaceful expression still sculpted on his face like he was a living Michelangelo. In the night you'd only gotten closer to him, legs still entwined and head still on his chest. The only difference was that your arms had obviously stopped their rapid movements to keep him warm, and they'd ended up snaked around his torso, the palm of your left hand laying flat against the hot skin of his waist, just above where his stitches were.

Maybe you should have pulled away when you realized, gotten up and pretended it didn't happen. The thought did cross your mind, but then Joel had shuffled a bit in his sleep and you'd become aware of the fact that his arms were around you, hand pressed flush against your bare back underneath your jacket and shirt, holding you to him. And that was enough to make you stay.

About fifteen minutes later, he'd woken up.

He didn't flinch or yank himself away when he realized the position you were in. He'd blinked slowly at you, and you'd peered up at him just as quietly. His lips had parted and then closed again, as if he was going to say something but then thought better of it. Instead, he just kept staring at you, and you started to feel his hand on your back slowly and tenderly stroke the skin there. In return, you gently brushed your thumb against the bare skin of his waist. It was a moment that felt like it went on forever, both of you touching those small intimate parts of each other without saying so much as one word.

You felt butterflies in your belly when the hint of a smile twitched at his mouth, and you smiled back, sleepy and soft. You never wanted to leave this small piece of existence. You just wanted him to keep looking at you like that, his gaze holding yours with an expression you could only describe as contentedness. You'd never seen him look so relaxed; the dark circles had faded and even the lines on his face had receded into his skin. He looked younger, healthier, like all the bad things that had happened to him had vanished in one good sleep.

“Uggghhhh,” Ellie moaned a few meters away, and both your heads snapped in her direction. She was sitting up in her sleeping bag, back facing you. You could see her arms stretching above her head as she began her typical morning wake-up routine: stretch, groan, flop, repeat.

Without saying anything you'd both untangled yourselves simultaneously before she could see the sleeping arrangement you'd found yourselves in. The loss of warmth and familiarity was palpable as you quickly stood up and grabbed the rifle, walking over to the now completely burnt out fire. Joel silently folded up his blanket and your sleeping bag behind you, then muttered something about needing to look for more shit to burn.

That's how it started.

And you don't, under absolutely any circumstances, talk about it.

[moosesarecute]

Part 4: The Shadows Sing

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Azriel had spent the last week trying to figure out the most he could about living in The Middle.

He did research about different kinds of species, but he could not find anything about yellow bugs that made you pass out.

He also spent some time just observing the life of the female.

He learned her routine and the faces of the people she worked with.

What annoyed him, was the fact that he still didn’t know for sure if he actually had seen her surrounded by shadows.

Shadowsingers were rare, he knew that, but he still had a small hope that the female would be like him. They would have something to connect over. Because he really wanted to get to know her.

It took a week before he had time and enough knowledge to make a move.

He used his shadows to shadow walked directly into the cabin the female lived in.

“Friends!” His shadows cheered, but he couldn’t see anything. But he knew that either the female, or the shadows themselves, could have hidden the shadows in plain sight.

He knew she had started on the walk towards the cabin. He also knew that if she walked, it would take 15 minutes, maybe 10 if she was really fast.

So when the female opened the door to the cabin after only two minutes, Azriel knew for sure she had more magic in her than what she let out.

“You won’t believe it,” she sang as she danced through the door. “I won three fights! I have food for like 4 days!”

Azriel didn’t want to admit it, but he found her quite adorable. And so did his shadows.

“Pretty eyes! Cute!” They said as they tried to get out of Azriel’s grip and move towards the female.

He almost wanted to just stay still and observe her, with her cute dance moves and singing, but he knew he had to get the upper hand.

“Who are you talking to?” He asked with a raised brow.

Talking to an empty room seems like a sign that she had someone in her home she usually would speak to. Shadows for example.

The female dropped the bread and oatmeal she was holding. She started to back out of the cabin.

Azriel used his shadows to block the door. There was no way out, unless she decided to use her powers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answered. She straightened her back and pushed back her shoulders. She tried to be seen as strong and not scared, but Azriel could basically smell her fear.

Her sent, Azriel had decided, was a mix of pines and night air, but now it had a sour tinge.

An other obvious sign of her fear, was the fact that she was shaking from top to toe.

“You come into your cabin, obviously talking to someone, but there isn’t anyone here,” Azriel started to speak. He walked from one side of the small room to the other. “You also traveled a distance that would take 10 minutes to run, in less than 5 minutes.”

“What’s your point?” She asked. She tried to act unfazed, but Azriel saw straight through it. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I think you’re powerful,” he answered. “I think you’re like me.”

He then let loose his shadows.

They surrounded the female and tried to play with her hair.

She waved her hands and tried to get them to stop.

But Azriel didn’t miss the way her eyes almost doubled in size and how she tightened her jaw, fighting hard for it to not open.

He also didn’t miss how she started to fickle with her fingers to prevent his seeing her hands shake much worse than before.

What was going on?

Azriel pulled his shadows away from the female and waited for her to answer.

“I don’t know you who think I am, but you’re obviously mistaken.” She said and tried to look annoyed. But her voice was now shaking too.

“I saw you use them last time we met,” he argued.

He tried his best not to look too intimidating, while still being a little scary. He couldn’t just trust her, even though his every instinct told him that he should.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answered. Her fear started to turn into anger. “And I don’t appreciate that you have been spying on me like an obsessed stalker.”

“I’m not obsessed,” he answered. “I’m curious.”

She didn’t answer for quite some time. She stood still and looked directly at him. Azriel raised his eyebrow once more. He would have loved to know what was going through her head.

“If I give you five minutes,” she started. “Five minutes to ask me the questions you have. And then you’ll leave me alone. Deal?”

Azriel felt his stomach twist. He had scared the female so much that she’d be willing to make a bargain with him to get him away.

Usually, that would be an ideal situation for him. He wouldn’t need to use any time consuming or dangerous tools to get the information.

However, with this female it felt so wrong. Her scared gaze made him want to throw up. He saw her shake and he wanted her to hold her until it stopped.

What was going on? He didn’t even know her name for cauldron’s sake!

“I have five minutes to ask you questions and you will respond truthfully. Then I’ll leave you alone if you want me to,” he told her.

“It’s a deal,” she answered.

The second they agreed, they both got a matching bargain tattoo on their forearm. It was abstract, but definitely looked like a shadow.

“What’s your name?” Azriel started.

They had taken seats with the table. Azriel sat on the tree stump acting like a chair and the female sat on the table.

“Y/N,” she answered.

Azriel felt shivers going through his spine. The name fit her.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Azriel.”

When he first heard the two twins talk about her name, he had felt a connection to it.

If was perfect.

“How old are you?” He continued.

“It’s that a little mean to ask a lady?” She asked back. Now it was her time to raise an eyebrow.

Azriel just sat and waited for an answer.

“I’ll be 70 soon,” she answered.

That surprised Azriel a little. She looked older, felt wiser. It was like she already had centuries of experience, even though she wasn’t even a century old.

“What was that bug that bit me?”

She gave out a small laugh.

“You actually don’t know?” Y/N asked. Azriel shook his head. She let out a sigh. “It was a Gelbbug. They live around here in the winter. Their bites usually only give people an itch, but around 1% of the time, the female bugs bites are lethal. It’s around the earlier stages of their pregnancies. One bite and you’d be dead within minutes.”

“So you saved my life?” He asked. He felt confused. Why would a female he’s never met before, safe his life? Especially after he had lot her a naga and apparently some money.

“Yeah,” she answered. “I suppose I did.”

Her eyes met his. Azriel felt time stop. It was just like it had been in all his dreams. Her sparkling bright eyes looked directly into his. Everything felt alright in the world for just that moment.

“I’ll ask the rest another day,” Azriel then said with a smug smile.

“What are you talking about?” She asked. “We just made a bargain. Five minutes and then you’d be gone!”

Azriel just shook his head.

“I have five minutes to ask questions, that was the deal,” he explained. “I one spent one minute asking questions. It’s not my fault you spent so long time answering them.”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“See you later,” he said and disappeared.

He was sure he heard the words “fucking prick” before he left.

@i-have-a-thing-for-the-dark @saltedcoffeescotch

[tikosblogg]

BESTFRIENDS pt 2..

Summary: Noah comes home from a bad day at the studio. You decide to help him take out his frustrations.

Warning: oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, virginity loss. Let me know if there is anything else.

A/N: you guys asked for it and I delivered!!! I really hope you guys enjoy it!!❤️

I laid across the couch watching my show, when the front door slammed open then shut causing me to jump out of my skin. I quickly sat up seeing Noah barge in, and stomp up the stairs to his room, clearly pissed. Noah and the guys were at the studio today, recording a song. They weren’t supposed to be home for another two hours. Confused, I stood from my seat, grabbing the remote and cutting off the tv. The front door opened again, and the rest of the guys walked in.

“What’s going on? Is he okay?” They all turned to me, jolly being the first to speak. “He sounded a tiny bit hoarse today, and he’s pissed off. You know how he is. Everything has to be perfect.” I nodded my head, looking back towards the stairs. Noah is always so hard on himself for no reason. “Poor guy….” I frowned, thinking about all negative thoughts probably racing through his head right now.

I crossed my arms over my chest, walking over to them as Nick spoke up. “Yea we’ll give him some space. Let him cool off.” I nodded in agreement. Noah and I haven’t really talked much since the other night. It’s not that it’s awkward or anything. He’s just been so busy with meetings, and going to the studio. We haven’t really had time. Jolly nodded towards the front door, breaking me from my thoughts. “We’re gonna head out, maybe grab some food and hangout. Wanna come?” They all turned towards me awaiting my response.

I smiled before politely declining. “Thanks for the invite, but I gotta shower and get to sleep. I have work in the morning. You guys have fun.” I gave them each a hug as they walked out the door. Locking up and heading upstairs, I stopped midway into my room looking over at Noah’s door. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just check on him? I walked over, knocking twice. After a few seconds his door swung open.

“Jolly I told you I don’t-“ he stopped mid sentence, realizing it was me. “Oh hey, sorry.” He moved back, silently welcoming me into his room. I walked in, walking straight to his bed taking a seat. “What’s going on Noah?” He huffed plopping down into his computer chair, resting his face in his hands. “I sounded awful today. My throat is hoarse, and couldn’t find the right pitch.”

“Noah you couldn’t sound awful if you tried. You have an amazing voice. Even if it’s a little hoarse.” I gave him a small reassuring smile, as he sat up meeting my eyes. “Thanks sweetheart ….I just hate when things don’t go right. I’m so frustrated.” An idea instantly popped in my mind. Was it a good one? Maybe not. But it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.

I slowly slid off the bed onto my knees, crawling the short distance between us to right between his thighs. He froze, as his eyes widened. My hands running up each of his thighs, giving them a light squeeze. “What are you doing y/n?” He made no move to stop me, so I continued. “Well you helped me when I was frustrated…I feel it’s only right I return the favor.”

I softly rubbed my hands up down his thighs, waiting for his response. “Baby you don’t have to-“ I quickly cut him off with a smile. “I want to.” He slowly nodded his head, as I went straight for his belt. His dick was already stiff, growing more the closer I got to it. I pulled the belt open, unbuttoning his jeans and finally pulling him out.

I’ve never seen a dick in real life, but I can guarantee his is this most beautiful one I’ll ever see. He’s also huge. He gasped as I finally wrapped my fingers around it. He was so thick my fingertips barely touched. I slowly pumped him a few times looking up at him. He threw his back against the chair releasing a moan. His tip was angry red, and already leaking.

I bent down, and gave it a few kitten licks. He groaned bucking his hips up. “Fuck..” I felt my stomach erupt in butterflies. I parted my lips finally wrapping them around him, taking him in as far as I could. I instantly gagged, pulling back up. His hand flew to my cheek, lifting my face to his. “Don’t force it baby…take your time.”

I nodded my head, pumping him a few more times before taking him back into my mouth. I sucked the tip, and his hand flew to my hair tangling it into his fist. I moaned around him, as he softly tugged it. I could feel my shorts getting soaked. I decided to forego panties tonight, since I planned on showering anyways. Looks like it worked in my favor.

I slid my hand down into my shorts, applying pressure to my aching clit. I took him further into my mouth, until he hit the back of my throat. I fought hard not to gag again, and bobbed my head up and down. The sinful noises leaving Noah’s mouth, only made me wetter. I rubbed my clit faster, moaning around him.

Noah grabbed my arm, removing my hand from my shorts, and pulling me up to him. “Is sucking my cock making you wet baby?” His voice just above a whisper. I whined at his filthy words, nodding my head yes. He stuck his tongue out, running it slowly across my lips. I whimpered leaning in, finally pressing our mouths together.

We shared a heated wet kiss. He shoves his tongue in my mouth, and I softly sucked on it causing a grown to leave his throat. He took my bottom lip between his teeth, softly biting down. My breath hitched, as he released it pulling me to my feet. “C’mon.” He walked us to his bed, pulling me onto it with him. He laid back, making me kneel on the bed beside him,

I leaned down, quickly taking him back into my mouth. “Fuck baby…your mouth feels amazing.” He groaned, running his hand through my hair. I gripped the base with my hand, taking the rest of him in my mouth. He placed his other hand on my ass, gently rubbing and squeezing it. I moaned around his dick, bobbing my head faster.

He bucked his hips up, his tip meeting the back of my throat each time. He moved my shorts aside, running his fingers up and down my slit. “Fuck baby, you’re so wet…you love my cock in your mouth don’t you?” I pulled off of him, continuing to pump his dick. “Fuck Noah….yes.”

He finally slid his two middle fingers into my soaked pussy, slowly pumping them in and out. I whined, arching my ass higher in the air, his fingers hitting deeper. He grabbed my throat gently, pulling me into another searing kiss. I was panting at this point. I needed more. “Please Noah…I want you.” His fingers halted, directing my eyes to his.

“Y/n we don’t have to do this….I don’t want you to feel pressured.” I felt my heart flutter, as I pecked his lips softly. “I don’t….please Noah.” We continued staring at each until I tried again. “Noah…I need you.” His eyes were almost black, as he quickly pulled his fingers out of me, flipping us over.

He hovered over me, planting his lips on mine. He sat up straddling my thighs, quickly tugging my oversized shirt, and shorts off of me. He shoved his face into my neck, licking and sucking as many marks as could onto it. “Oh fuck Noah.” He peppered kisses down my neck, until he reached my tits. He sucked my nipple into his mouth, pinching and pulling on my other one with his fingers.

I arched my chest into his face, clawing my nails down his back under his shirt. He released my nipple with a pop, groaning at my nails digging into his skin. “Fuck baby keep doing that.” He sat up, pulling off his shirt. I spread my thighs as far as they’d go, as he laid between them. “Tell me if it’s too much, and I’ll stop.”

I cupped his cheeks in my hands, pecking his nose. “I will, I promise.” He lined himself up with my entrance looking at me one more time, before slowly pushing in. I gasped loudly at the big stretch, the air leaving my lungs. Noah stopped, turning my head towards his, with a worried expression. “Talk to me baby..” it didn’t even really hurt, it was just a dull ache.

But the new feeling was almost overwhelming. “Keep going.” My strained voice was just above a whisper. He nodded his head, and continued slowly pushing in. When he was fully in, I felt so fucking full. He gave me a few seconds, before slowly thrusting his hips. In a matter of minutes, I was moaning whimpering mess.

I’ve never felt this amount of pleasure in my life. He kept his slow pace, grunting in my ear until I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Faster Noah, please. I can take it.” He captured my lips in a sweet kiss, moving his hips faster and harder. “Oh fuck yes.” I gasped, shoving my face into his neck. “Shit baby, your pussy is so fucking tight.” I felt his dick twitch inside of me, as I was so close to finishing.

“I’m….Im gonna cum.” I whimpered, as pounded into me harder. “Go ahead babygirl, cum on my cock.” That was all I needed, as my orgasm crashed over me. “Just like that, good girl.” He pounded faster, until he pulled out. He stroked his dick a couple times, before releasing all over my chest and stomach. “Fuck.” He dropped his head down, before leaning forward placing a kiss to my forehead and getting up. “I’ll be right back.”

He walked over into his bathroom, coming back out with a wet washcloth. I laid there my body spent, feeling like jello. He wiped the remaining mess, and threw the rag into his hamper. He crawled back onto the bed settling down beside me. “How was it sweetheart?” His voice sounded so small. Almost like he was afraid of my response.

I looked over at him, the biggest smile on my face. “Fucking amazing.”

QA/N: sorry to kind of leave you with a cliff hanger, but I’m almost tempted to turn this into a mini series….or at least do a part 3. Idk what do you guys think???

[anniebass]

baby don't be mad

1.3k word actverse ficlet under the jump rating: M tags: dialogue-heavy, beginning of the relationship, the boys are arguinggg, old man eddie's being a clueless slut, and also a dweeb, and steve's being... a person that rly needs therapy lol

Rapid catchups, they name it, though it doesn’t really need a name, it’s basically just talking. Early on Eddie realizes he doesn’t know all that much about his sexy old-but-new long distance serious boyfriend, that he possesses a fuckton of outdated information, that, duh, people change, especially in the long-ass time they spent apart. That the habits and opinions of a twenty-year-old shithead don’t necessarily last until someone’s forties.

That evening, they do the rapid catchups, starting off easy, prompted by the takeout dinner they have at Steve’s: best Asian food, go, at which without a second thought Steve says Chinese, while Eddie goes with Japanese, love me some sushi, yum. Later, when they’re full of kung pao and mapo tofu, lazily digesting on the couch, half-watching an old movie where Sharon Stone saunters across the screen and smolders at bad men, Steve says: you have to sleep with a woman, any woman in the world, dead or alive, go.

Eddie groans and slides down the couch, throws his hands up: dude, I don’t know! Uh, like maybe— Cleopatra? Or maybe one of those amazonian greek warriors with one boobie?

So, no one you actually know the face of? he says, with a little smirk.

Man, I don’t— I mean, there are some beautiful women walking this earth, like stunning stunning women I can’t get enough of, but that don’t mean I want to fuck them! My willy shrinks at the thought, he explains meekly, and shrugs, clicking his tongue: I dunno, maybe Eartha Kitt? She seems very fun.

Good choice, mutters Steve, and to Eddie’s your turn he tilts his head, scratches his nose: I don’t know if that question really applies to me. But if I had to have a sex list, it would be… Linda Evangelista? Or Sharon, she’s hot. Or— yeah, Monica Belucci, Jesus. Her, definitely. If not her then Cleopatra, that’s actually a great answer, she must have been good for all that shit to go down around her, he says with a smile, and Eddie sighs dreamily, oh, I’d love to watch. From the closet, imagine myself in her place. In a little egyptian wig, he adds, to which Steve snorts, rolling his eyes.

Alright, my turn. Best casual sex you’ve ever had, go, says Eddie, and Steve hums at that, leans back on the couch, rubbing his chin, mumbling under his breath, until he sighs and says: I actually didn’t have that much of it beyond my teens, and what I had back then was very… teenaged, y’know. And in that short gap between my first and second wife I slept with just three people, two dudes and one woman, and neither of those was mind-blowing. The guys were kinda disappointing, I thought after so many years of straight sex I’d be blown away, but it was just… okay. Actually—, he adds, shaking his head: it sucked. I was drunk, they were drunk, I don’t remember much of it. Or don’t want to. I remember stinky balls. So, I dunno—, he says, and sighs, and glances at him: am I a big loser if I say the best one was when we reconnected? Could say it was still casual back then, right? When we fucked in the church, or by the pool, or—, yeah, there was a lot of it, on that trip.

It really was magical, agrees Eddie, smiling at him.

So, uh, your turn, says Steve. Best you've ever had, go.

Oh, man, mutters Eddie. I know my answer to that. Japan, in the mid-nineties. We were on tour and stayed for a few nights in Tokyo, and I got to explore the city, research shit with the help of a very discreet translator, and finally, on our last night there, I ended up in a gay bar. Very hush-hush, a basement place hidden away in some grimy back alley, he says, lowering his voice into sultry tones of gossip. Met a guy there, this… slightly chubby middle-aged businessman type, suit and tie and briefcase, wedding ring on his finger, very regular looking guy, and we drank sake through the night, sang some karaoke, and ended up in some seedy by-the-hour love hotel. He didn’t know who I was, didn’t speak a lick of English, I was obviously drunk, but I still remember that night like it was yesterday. God, just— the way that guy fucked me, the way he seemed to know every inch of my body without having seen it before, the way he just knew what I wanted without any language, it was insane. We did it a few times that one night, practically without stopping, and never saw each other again. I actually jerk off to that memory to this day.

To this, Steve lets out a small hm, purses his lips and leans back, crossing his arms, and Eddie clicks his tongue, leaning closer, touching his shoulder: aw, don’t be jealous. That was casual, but out of all people, of course you are my number one, no contest. I just— remember that one time in Japan, because it worked so well without language, and that’s always kinda hot. Language of love, all that cheesy stuff. Up to that point and following it, it'd mostly happen with some hot Brazilians.

Okay, he says.

Eddie sighs, watching his face: Steve, you know that’s what my life was like back then, this neverending barrage of hookups. And most of those weren’t even that good, like, you talk of stinky balls? I met dozens, slobbered over them anyway like they were fucking Ferrero Rocher!, he says to a small groan in return, then sighs, speaks softer: being with you is a completely different quality from that, even from my previous relationships. It’s way different. With Marcell, we both slept around, there wasn’t much that we had in common beyond, like, incredible attraction at the beginning, and the fact that we work in the same industry, could endlessly talk about that. And with Zu, we— we really loved each other, but we weren’t a good fit. It was this weird thing where she needed someone more masc, but also I needed someone more masc, he says with an amused scoff. We were two bottoms in love, and it’s hard to make it work in the long term, without fucking other people. We’re way better off as friends. And the other dudes I dated, it was just— me being a drunken asshole, most of the time. I was a very shitty boyfriend for a looong-ass time.

There’s a stretch of silence, and Steve slides down the couch, still frowning: man… I just wonder why you asked that question in the first place. Because it seems to me like you wanted to brag a little about this incredible hookup you had in fucking… Japan. Do you miss fucking other people, Eddie?

He sighs, rakes a hand through his hair: Steve, I literally just told you I don’t. I might romanticize it, the— the way I might romanticize being on drugs, but I don’t want to go back to that. I asked because I want to know everything about you! I dunno, I— I guess I like Japan. It’s such a weird place, I really want to go back there, he says and inches closer, placing a calm hand on his thigh: come with me. Like, for two weeks or something. We’d take the girls with us, go in the summer or for the spring break. Would be cool to just wander around, shop, sing karaoke, eat tons of good food. Go to Kyoto, see the geishas, tea ceremony. Go to hot springs. Japan’s truly like no place you’ve ever been to.

I didn't know you liked it that much. A trip does sound nice, says Steve, with a small smile. Emily would go crazy, she loves those cartoons. Chels would like it too, I think.

Eddie smiles and squeezes his leg: sounds like a plan. Also, just to— get it out of the way: from the moment you first kissed me, I stopped thinking of us as casual. I was, like, fully fully back in love with you in point two seconds. Even before that, to be honest. If I ever for a single moment considered that a hookup, it’d totally blow that businessman out of the water. If you want, I could show you, uh, how I blew him out of the— fucking—, he falters, then snorts: sorry, failed metaphor. But you catch my drift.

Yes, please, says Steve.

[lee-laurent]

Playing Pretend - Jamie Drysdale

Summary: In which Jamie and his girlfriend end things after pretending everything was okay. Or in which Jamie's girlfriend moves in with Trevor while attempting to keep her pregnancy hidden from everyone.

content: pregnancy, mentions of abortion, long distance, keeping secrets from partner (if that's a warning idk), angst, fluff, mentions of sex, implications of cheating/being unfaithful, jamie's trade :(

notes: this one is a bit more angsty than my other fics. i wanted to experiment with trying something new. possible happy ending tho. guess you'll have to read to find out ;) sorry if it seems rushed, i didn't know how to format it :/

"Of course, you have options. You can read more about those here. This is a judgement free zone," the nurse continued to drone on about scheduling another appointment, but Violet had tuned her out. In fact, the only thing that Violet could hear was her heart pounding in her chest.

"Thank you," she mumbled, grabbing the paperwork and shoving it into her purse. All she wanted was Jamie and he was on the other side of the country.

Once she was safely in her car in the parking lot, she let the tears fall. A baby? How was she supposed to take care of a baby when her boyfriend lived five hours away by plane. They barely spoke more than twice a week at this point. Their relationship was falling apart and a baby wasn't going to save it.

"How was the doctor?" Trevor asked as she walked through the door, kicking off her shoes.

"Fine. Just food poisoning, like you thought."

"I told you! Never eat grocery store sushi, Vi. Should've listened to me."

"Ha. I guess you know best, Trev. I'm gonna go lie down. I'm still nauseous."

"Make sure you text Jamie! He was worried about you."

"I'm sure he was," she mumbled, making her way to her bedroom. She looked at the picture on her bedside table. It was of her and Jamie at his first game with the Ducks. She'd been so proud to see him move from the Gulls to the NHL. He had his arm wrapped around her waist and was looking down at her like she'd hung the moon and stars in the sky, while she smiled happily into the camera. Violet sighed, putting the photo face down. She couldn't bare to look at Jamie's face right now, photo or not.

Her phone buzzed.

Jamie <3: Trev texted. Said it's food poisoning like he thought. Feel better. I love you

Vi: Thanks, Jam. Love you too

Lying to Jamie made her stomach churn. In fact, everything was making her stomach churn at the moment. Trevor had made sausages with his breakfast that morning, leading to her projectile vomiting in the kitchen. Which is when Trevor finally convinced her to go to a walk-in clinic. A walk-in clinic that sent her to Planned Parenthood. And now at the thought of Jamie not knowing about his child mixed with the baby in her womb hating the smell of everything, she was leaned over the toilet once more.

"Vi? Do you want some ginger ale?" Trevor asked from the doorway.

"No. I'm okay, Trev. Just, I- I'd like to be alone right now."

"Oh, right. Call me if you need anything," he sighed, gently shutting the door behind him.

Violet sniffled, reaching for her phone on the counter next to her.

Jamie was worried sick about Violet, but he was also focused on the game of NHL 24 he was playing with Cam.

"Wait. Time out. Violet's texting."

"Oh, shit. What'd she say?"

"That... that we need to talk?" Jamie furrowed his eyebrows.

"Shit. We can finish this later. Call her."

"Thanks, Cam. I- I'll be back," Jamie stood up from the couch, albeit a bit wobbly from nerves, speeding off to his room.

"Hey," Violet's voice cracked as it broke through the speaker of his phone.

"Hey, um, what did you wanna talk about?"

"Long distance isn't working, Jamie. I- I think we should end things."

"What? Vi? Where is this coming from? Did- did you meet someone in Anaheim?"

"What? God, no. Jamie- I wouldn't cheat. You know that. I just- this is too much stress for me right now."

"Our relationship is too much stress for you? I- I told you that you could move here. We could get our own place. I-"

"Jamie, I have a life here. I have a job. My friends."

"I had all of that too. But, I- I'm making it work here. You could make it work here, Violet! Please don't do this. You- you're the love of my life."

"Jamie, don't make this harder than it needs to be. I can't do this anymore."

"Please, Violet. Please."

"We- if you need anything call Trevor. Goodbye, Jamie."

Jamie didn't return to his game with Cam; he spent the rest of the night crying himself to sleep on his bed.

"You broke up with Jamie?!" Trevor shouted the next morning, waking up an exhausted Violet.

"Trevor? It's 6 in the morning."

"Yeah? Well Jamie just called me in tears, saying that you dumped him OVER THE PHONE?!"

"We're long distance. How else was I supposed to do it?"

"You weren't supposed to do it at all, Violet! You guys are made for each other! What's with this sudden change of heart?"

"We were barely talking anymore. I need a present boyfriend."

"Vi-"

"Drop it, Trevor! It's frankly none of your business!"

"None of my bus-"

Violet gagged, leaning over and puking on the hardwood floor. She looked up at Trevor, wiping her mouth.

"Get me a paper towel, please."

"Right. Um, right... This conversation isn't over."

He returned with a roll of paper towels. Watching as she pulled herself out of bed, to clean up the mess next to her bed.

"Why'd you break up with him?"

"I just told you. It wasn't working."

"But, you didn't even try to make it work. He said you didn't communicate it wasn't going well until yesterday."

"Wow. Does Jamie tell you every intimate part of our relationship?" she snapped.

"No."

"It was rhetorical, Trevor."

"Oh. He loves you."

"I know."

"Do you not love him?"

"What? Of course I love him. He's the fa- the first man I loved. I'll always love him."

"Then why break up with him?! He- he said you could go live with him in Philly."

"I don't want to leave Anaheim. I want to r- never mind. But, my job is here."

"Get a new one."

"God! You're so immature! It's not that fucking easy, Trevor! I'm not going to start my entire life over for Jamie! So fucking drop it!"

"I-"

"Drop it!"

Trevor dropped it. At least with Violet he did. He spent every day trying to convince Jamie to call her. To fix things. To figure what he could do. Jamie wasn't easily convinced though. After the mental anguish that the phone call with his now ex-girlfriend had caused him, he wasn't sure he wanted to go through it again.

Violet's morning sickness hadn't ended. In fact, it was getting worse. Morning sickness? More like all day and all night sickness. She was in agony. And Trevor as oblivious as he was, was getting suspicious.

"Maybe you should go to the doctor again? I don't think food poisoning is supposed to last this long."

"It's probably just stress."

"Why're you stressed?"

"Work."

"But- okay? I still think you should go back."

"Trevor."

"Yes?"

"I'm fine."

"You're pretending."

"What?"

"You're pretending everything is okay. You're just afraid to admit that things are worse without Jamie. Not better. You're more stressed. Hence the vomiting."

"Trevor, I- I have work to do."

Two hours later Violet was in the kitchen doing dishes when her phone started ringing.

"Trev! Can you get that?"

"Sure."

"Hi! This is Alice from Anaheim OB/GYN, I was just calling to confirm your appointment on Friday with Dr. Rhodes," the voice came through the phone.

"Trev! Who is it?"

"Sure, just let me get the phone to Violet. Oh, perfect! Thank you!"

"Hi?" Violet asked, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Hi! Is this Violet?"

"Yes, this is she."

"Perfect! Just a few questions to go over before confirming your appointment."

"Oh, of course."

"Any abnormal bleeding?"

"No."

"Dizziness?"

"Nope."

"How's the nausea you mentioned last time you were in?"

"About the same."

"Okay, I'll let the nurse know. We can get you some tablets for that. See you Friday at 11:30."

"Perfect, thank you."

Violet sighed, hanging up the phone.

"You're pregnant?" Trevor whispered.

"What? No."

"She said she was calling from the OB/GYN's office. Isn't that a doctor for pregnant people?"

"Not always. They also give birth control and stuff."

"But why would you need birth control if you're not seeing Jamie anymore?"

"For my periods."

"You're lying."

"I'm not lying, Trevor. Why would I lie?"

"You're lying. You always itch your wrist when you lie. You're pregnant. Does Jamie know?"

"Maybe it isn't Jamie's?"

"Yeah? Who else have you slept with? Nobody. You and Jamie had sex the night before we left for Nashville."

"Who told you that?"

"Jamie."

"Ew. I-"

"So it is Jamie's?"

"I'm not pregnant."

"Violet... is this why you dumped him? Are you getting... you know?"

"Not pregnant, Trevor."

"Fine, I'll drop it for now. But, if you were pregnant, I, um, I'd be here to help. I promise."

"Good to know if I am to hypothetically get pregnant," she mumbled, itching her wrist. Trevor let out a heavy sigh.

"You- you can tell me anything, Violet. I'm not going to tell Jamie if you don't want me to."

"You said you were gonna drop it. Plus there's nothing to tell him. Everything is normal."

"Right, um, I'm going out. Call if you need anything for your... food poisoning."

"Will do."

When she finally heard the front door shut, she let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. The tension in the kitchen had been palpable. She knew deep down that Trevor didn't believe her, but until she was showing she'd be able to hide it... maybe.

A month had passed and Violet was shocked to find that it looked like she was bloated. Violet had always been on the thinner side, but not to the point that she thought she'd be showing this early into her pregnancy. The doctors had confirmed that she was just over a month when she found out, meaning she was nearing three months. Baggy clothes became her new best friends. Unfortunately, most of the baggy clothing she owned were items she'd stolen from Jamie. This led to lots of looks from Trevor as she moved around their apartment.

Trevor now knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Violet was pregnant. He'd gone into her bathroom to find some extra toilet paper and come across an array of prenatal vitamins. He didn't bring it up though. The apartment constantly had an air of awkwardness shrouding it. Violet and Trevor were tip-toeing around each other. And he knew that eventually he would have to be the bigger person and bring it up, which was uncommon for the Ducks player.

"I was talking to Jamie today," Trevor mentioned as he twirled some spaghetti onto his fork.

"Hm. How's Jamie?"

"Better. He, uh, he still asks about you."

"Good for him."

"I'm sure if you told him... about your situation, he'd be willing to help."

"What situation?" Violet smiled, taking a sip of her water.

"Can we stop pretending, Violet?"

She shook her head, pushing away from the small kitchen table.

"God! Grow up, Violet! You're going to be a mom! Start acting like a fucking adult!" Trevor shouted as she retreated to her room, that Trevor had not-so-lovingly nicknamed "the cave." Her door slammed in response, shaking the pictures hanging in the corridor.

"Hey, girl!" her best friend, Aly, smiled through the FaceTime call. "How're those vitamins? One of the moms I work with says they're the best ones!"

"Good, I think. I've got a little bump now."

"Damn! Baby Drysdale is growingggg!" she dragged out.

"Don't call them that. He- I still haven't told him."

"Girl! You told me you were going to like a week ago! What changed?"

"He- I saw him on Instagram and he looked so happy. I don't want to ruin that."

"So... you're just gonna wallow in self-pity until your baby is born? What about when he sees you with a baby? Isn't he gonna be suspicious?"

"He already accused me of cheating. So..."

"Violet! No! We are not claiming you cheated and got pregnant from another man."

"Jamie's not ready to be a dad."

"Who told you that? Jamie?"

"No."

"Exactly. You don't know that!"

"I'll think about it, Aly. Right now, the doctor said I need to avoid too much stress. It makes my nausea worse."

"Uh huh. Lemme tell you about this date I went on!"

"Do you think Violet would be okay if I came to visit?" Jamie asked Trevor.

"Um... I mean you're coming to see me. It has nothing to do with her."

"I guess, you're right. I'll get a hotel though. I don't want to intrude on her space."

"Her space is also my space, Jamie."

"Yeah, but she's my... ex. It'd feel weird. Is she, um, seeing anyone new?"

"Violet?" Trevor choked on his water, "No. No. She's been busy with... work."

"Makes sense."

"What about you? Any new women in your life?"

"No. I just compare them all to Vi."

"When you come, maybe you can get some closure. Talk to her."

"If she lets me."

"If she lets you," Trevor smiled, continuing to help his best friend plan his trip.

Six months pregnant. Violet couldn't believe it. Her baby was the size of corn, according to Aly. It was hard to hide her ever growing bump, but Trevor's hoodies and some of Jamie's old clothes did the trick. She had no idea that Jamie was coming to visit. It was all part of Trevor's plan to get her to talk to him... and admit her pregnancy.

Trevor was buzzing as he walked Jamie up the stairs to their apartment.

"Violet did some redecorating, but it looks similar to when you left! She's still asleep, I think. She sleeps in on weekends."

"Not surprising," Jamie bit back his smile.

"Welcome back, bud!" Trevor swung open the door, leading his ex-teammate into his home. Jamie looked around, it was similar to when he left. A few pictures had been taken down and replaced with new ones, but it looked pretty much the same.

"Trev? Why are you shouting?" Violet questioned sleepily, rubbing a hand on her stomach. The baby had recently discovered how to kick and it was their new favourite hobby.

"Look who I brought home with me!" Trevor beamed.

"Jamie?" the girl suddenly looked much more awake, dropping her hands to her side.

"You... you're pregnant," was all Jamie could manage, staring directly at her stomach.

"Surprise?"

The group sat in the living room. Well, Trevor and Violet were sitting. Jamie was pacing around the room, running his hands through his hair.

"You're gonna go bald, Jimmy. Stop."

"She- you're pregnant?!"

"Yes. We established that, Jamie," Violet rolled her eyes.

"Yeah. Is it... is it mine?"

"Um..."

"Yes, the baby is yours, Jamie! Are you dumb?" Trevor furrowed his brow.

"You didn't tell me?! Neither of you?!"

"She... It wasn't my place."

"Yeah? What about you, Violet? What's your excuse?!"

"I- I didn't want to ruin your career."

"Ruin my career? No! You were just being selfish. Don't pretend this had anything to do with protecting me!" Jamie exclaimed.

"Jamie, can you sit down? You're stressing me out," she sighed, rubbing over where the baby was kicking repeatedly, sensing its mother's turmoil.

"Violet! We... we're having a baby."

"I'm having a baby."

God, she was just as stubborn as before.

"Z, can we have a minute?"

"Oh, sure," Trevor left and Jamie didn't speak until he heard the door close.

"Violet, this is serious. Why would you keep this from me? Is this why you ended things?" he asked, kneeling in front of her.

"Sort of. I panicked. I just, I don't want you to feel forced to stay because of us," she motioned to her belly.

"I... I still love you. A lot. God, I never stopped loving you."

"Jamie..."

"You... you can come live in Philly! We can fix us. And raise our baby. Be a happy family."

"I want to stay here."

"You... you can't keep my baby from me, Violet. Please," his eyes started to water, "Not any longer than you already have."

"He-"

"He? It's a boy?"

"Shit. Yeah."

"I'm going to have a son?" he smiled, the tears finally falling. Violet could feel her hormones acting up, her eyes also welling with tears.

"Henry."

"Hm?"

"I- I've been planning on naming him Henry."

"Henry. It's perfect, Vi. Can I?" he gestured to the swell of her stomach. She nodded, letting out a sob as his hands met the cotton of her shirt.

"Hi, Henry. It's your dad. I'm sorry I haven't been here. I- I don't blame Mommy. She did what she thought was best."

Violet continued to sob. Why was he being so sweet to her? She'd kept his son from him!

"Violet, can you just think about it? Please. Us and Henry in Philly."

"I can think about it, Jams," she cried, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Are you sure you built that right?" Violet asked for the fourth time, "I don't want him falling on the ground in the middle of the night."

"I followed the instructions, Vi. It's secure. He'll be fine."

"Are you sure? I just-"

Jamie cut her off with a kiss to her lips.

"I'm positive, love. Now stop worrying. Poor Henry is going to pop out early if you keep that up."

"I'd appreciate it if he did. He's been sitting on my bladder all day."

Jamie kneeled down in front of her, placing a hand where he saw the imprint of a foot kick.

"Can you move off Mommy's bladder? It makes her pissy. And Daddy doesn't want to deal with it right now."

"He's not listening. I need to pee," she waddled out of the nursery and into the ensuite. Jamie laughed, following her into their bedroom.

"You look good pregnant," Jamie commented as she emerged from the bathroom.

"Shut up. We're not having sex until this monster is out of me."

"He's not a monster!"

"He's giant! I can't breathe."

"Here," Jamie walked behind her, lifting up her stomach. She let out a long sigh of relief, the pressure being alleviated from her back.

"Thanks, Jams. I love you."

"I love you too," he smiled. Although they weren't the most stable couple on the planet, Jamie was just glad to have his girl back. And now he had his little boy too. He felt complete. And so did Violet. Complete and happy with their soon-to-be family of three.