#who disappears once the cup is cold again

[two-bit-too-high]

Lost boys with a mate/pack member that has a rbf (resting bitch face) and is touch starved but love touch and when they cuddle in the nest she falls asleep with a smile and- OAMXOAMAOMWJ ITS SO FLUFFF IM SORRYYY LMAO

A/N I did a another one! Yipeee! Please enjoy! As always please send in any more ideas.

The Lost boys x Reader with resting bitch face

☁️ pure fluff

⚠️ Warnings: none except my possibly god awful spelling and grammar.

Enjoy

It's cold in the cave, cold enough that if you weren't a vampire you would probably fall into a coma.you were sitting on one of the large lounge chairs that the boys had found a few weeks ago warped in a big quilted blanket reading with a mason jar of blood on the nightstand next to you a vampic hot chocolate if you will .When a certain blonde pops up in front of you.

“Oh hello Marko” you say not looking up from your book “hello my bleeding rose” Marko says in a quiet voice he himself was warped in a blanket to keep out some of the cold “is everything ok” you ask is due to the face he as his puppy eyes on he only uses those when he is in Trouble or if he wanted something. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, “Mad at you?” you replied “no I ain't mad at you all” you add “oh well you just looked really upset and I was...I was worried I had done something to make you mad” he says still with his puppy eyes on full display “no not at all Marko your fine” you says while unwrapping the blanket from around yourself to invite him into the warm this is one invitation he expects immediately jumping up into the big lounge with you cuddling under the covers and up to you. As you sat there in silence your Mind started to wonder why on earth did he think you were mad at him.

Later In the night you were in the small kitchen that was just off the main cave area where Marko was sleeping in the big chair still warped in the blankets.when You ran into David who was making yet again another Blood and whisky in the glass that only he is allowed to use. You were Minding your own when David spoke up “what's got you in a twist darling” “huh” you replied “you look mad or something is Paul getting on your nerves again” he continues “no I'm fine” you say you stop washing your cup and look up at him “I ain't mad or upset” you add “okay then” he said as he disappeared back into the cave whisky glass in hand leaving you in the kitchen to once again wonder what on earth is going on.

An hour went by and you ended sitting in the rafters watching Paul play his guitar. You had found another blanket and was now just staring into space thinking. “Woah babe you look pissed” says as he looks up from his guitar “I do?” you replied “yeah like someone cut all ya guitar strings or stolen your feed” he says as he keeps plucking at his guitar “I ain't upset” you say you had started to play around with a loose coil of guitar string. Paul hums “well you certainly look it” he adds before going back to his music leaving you in the mental dust.

“Alright everyone, time to pack it in for the night” yelled out David at about 5:30am and like clockwork everyone started to file into the nesting room. Like always you in the middle and David and Dwyane to your right and then Marko and Paul to your left. “Did you have a bad night honey” asked Dwyane as he cuddled up to your side “no!” You say loudly “oh my god why does everyone keep saying that!” You add “because you look like it,love” says Dwyane “what do you mean!” You add “seems you have a case of resting bitch face babe” says Paul “oh that's just great” you said as you nuzzle into Dwyane’s chest. “Well a public service announcement if I look pissed off I'm probably not so stop worrying about it” you say.”noted” they all say in unison.

One by one you all fell asleep under several different blankets and as you did you had a smile on your face thankful that you had finally figured out why on earth you kept getting all those questions.

Hope y'all enjoyed it :)

[memorydragon]

Everyone look at my pretty new mug I got myself for singles day.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt.2]

[<- part 1 | part 3 ->]

Tim doesn't remember what happened. What he does remember is that he was in the middle of an apocalypse with no idea how to survive it, a few of his friends and family dead, and clinging to the last possible resort with no hope it would actually make a difference.

He remembers thinking whatever happened next could not be worse than what he's already been through.

And then, he remembers an unfamiliar voice, a cheeky grin, and a light so bright he had to squint his eyes shut not to be blinded.

When he opened them again, he was back in the Cave, and, as he found out a few moments later, when a panicking Dick ran up to him and attempted to squeeze the dear life out of his body with a crushing hug, back in time by three weeks. With the whole recollection of what happened before- Well, after that.

And, it was not only him who got to keep all the important memories. The rest of the Bats remembered everything as well, and the League, and even a few others, all of whom were somehow connected to said apocalypse, which had not yet happened.

Tim looked down to the Ring.

He did not tell anyone why or how they got a second chance.

A month later, with the crisis safely averted and his anxiety buzzing under his skin, Tim locked himself up in the Nest, pressed his lips to the cold metal on his finger once again, and whispered a quiet, "Thank you."

He did not know what he expected in response, but certainly not a snort right by his ear and an incorporeal voice that seemed to come from every direction at once.

"You're welcome." It was not ominous, not solemn or anything of sorts. If anything, the voice sounded like Duke whenever Tim thanked him for a fresh cup of coffee the boy brought to the Cave for him. Entirely unbothered and offhanded, and a little bit fond, like somehow saving Tim's whole world was not a big deal.

Well, maybe it wasn't, for whoever the voice belonged to.

Tim looked at the Ring again. Then, he looked around, not sure how to proceed. As far as his analysis went, the King - because who else it might have been? - did not want anything in return, nor did they intend on keeping in contact. And, technically, that was probably a good thing. Because, yeah, right, any normal and sane person would prefer to stay away from getting unnecessarily involved with beings of immeasurable power.

However, Tim did not think of himself as either normal or sane.

So, he clicked his tongue, annoyed and on the verge of pouting, "Really? That's it? 'You're welcome'?"

For a second, nothing happened.

Then, there was a startled, surprised snort of laughter, and, a moment later, a boy floating in the air a few feet away from Tim.

Tim blinked. The supposed almighty monarch of Infinite Realms, Keeper or Worlds and whatever, did not look particularly kingly. If anything, he looked very much unkingly.

Not much older than Tim - so, twenty or somewhat around it - wearing something that he'd expect Jason to wear on a daily basis. Cargo pants, an unzipped jacket with its sleeves rolled up, a t-shirt with some rock band logo, none of which exactly screamed 'royalty' to Tim. There was a matter of floating, of course, and the boy's hair was so white that it actually hurt to look at it directly, but other than that, the King looked...

Almost absurdly normal.

He was also holding a big, although already half-empty cup of bobba milk tea, and lazily reclining in the air without a care in the world.

"You want some?" The boy asked when he caught Tim staring at his drink.

Tim blinked. The vision of a floating boy in his living room did not disappear.

"I, um," he stammered over words, searching for any kind of answer, and then shook his head, "No, thanks?" The words came out more like a question than a statement. The boy pursed his lips and shrugged.

"Your loss. It's from the best place ever," he paused, looking up to the ceiling and frowning, "I don't think it exists in this timeline."

Tim shakes his head again, like trying to kickstart his thought process. It doesn't work.

"So, you're..." he trails off, and the boy startles before moving in the air and shifting so his feet actually touch the ground. His hair and jacket still both act like gravity doesn't exist.

"Oh, right. I forgot I never introduced myself," he gives Tim a sheepish grin, "It's kind of strange, seeing that I did spend about three years around you. I'm Danny, or Phantom," he offers Tim a hand and then tilts his head slightly, "But never Daniel, for the record."

That is honestly too much information in just three sentences. Tim shakes the offered hand - which is way too cold to be actual human hand - mostly on reflex.

"I'm Tim," he adds dumbly, and Danny grins.

"Yeah, I know."

Which brings Tim back to what the boy said before, and he frowns.

"Wait, you said you've spent three years around me?" That means, since around the time Tim first put the Ring on, if he is not mistaken. The boy rubs the back of his neck.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to see who you were before I made myself known, but your family is a really nosy bunch, and you're quite literally never alone, and I kind of didn't want to scare you, so..."

"So you stalked me for three years," Tim finishes the sentence when Danny trails off. The boy grimaces and makes a so-so expression.

"I mean, you all did think I was some kind of an eldritch monster that's going to spirit you away or something. Showing up unannounced would be awkward at the least," he reasons. Tim can't argue with it when he puts it that way.

So, instead, he reaches for the cup in Danny’s hand and snatches it away, taking a sip before the boy is able to protest. It does taste like the best bobba he tried, so there's that.

"Are you?" He asks, tapping the straw on his chin as Danny floats up again, seemingly unbothered about the stolen drink. Looks like keeping his feet on the floor is either uncomfortable or rather unnatural for him.

"Am I what?" Danny raises one eyebrow.

"An eldritch monster?" Tim clarifies, and, between one moment and another, the sight of the semi-normal, albeit floating, guy in front of him distorts like a glitching video. Glimpses of bright, neon green eyes, sharp, inhuman teeth, and shadows crawling around the room fill Tim's vision, making him gasp sharply, but all of that is gone as soon as he blinks. Danny shrugs.

"I can be," he admits easily, "But most of the times, I'm not."

Tim looks at him thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes and taking another long sip of the drink. The bobba pearls taste vaguely like mango when he chews them.

On one hand, this is a very much unknown, possibly dangerous magic creature. On the other, the creature's name is Danny, and he does have a good taste for food, so how bad can it really be?

"Cool," he shrugs finally, offering the cup back, "Wanna go out some time?"

Danny smiles so bright that Tim can't help but return it and takes the almost empty drink, his fingers brushing over Tim's.

"I thought you'd never ask," he snorts.

[patheticdarling]

Her Sacrifice

Summary: The assassins had no such luck finding Prince Aemond but what were they to do when they stumbled upon the beloved wife of King Aegon instead? Her belly swollen with his heir.

Warnings: Blood & Cheese/murder/gore & blood/cursing/threats/blades/pregnancy/kidnapping/funeral/incest (reader is helaena's older twin)

Word Count: 2236

"The other lords will be accompanying me for a drink in the Throne Room. Shall you join us, Wife?" Aegon asked, a slightly eager smile on his face, anticipating your agreement.

You sighed as you began to undo the braids in your hair, "The hour is late, Husband. I must rest."

Aegon pouted, "Just a cup! We've attended to our royal duties all day, have we not earned a bit of respite?"

"Respite is what I shall get with a good night's sleep. Not drinking until sunrise with you and your comrades," you teased. You stood from seat at your vanity, walking over and placing Aegon's hand on your growing bump, "Besides, do you not wish for our babe to be born healthy? So that they may grow into formidable dragon riders like their parents."

He smiled softly at your belly before kissing it sweetly, "You make a good point, my dear. Mayhaps I should stay in with you."

You shook your head, smiling down at him, "Do not let me stop your fun. You are right. The King deserves his respite. Besides there may not be many more nights where we get to enjoy ourselves," motioning to your bump.

"You are going to make a wonderful mother," Aegon stood from his seat, "I shall allow you to enjoy your last moments of rest then." He planted a soft kiss on your lips, "I love you, Y/N."

You stroked his hair, "I love you, Aegon."

Aegon kissed you once more before giving your belly a playful squeeze and disappearing from your chambers. You summoned one of your ladies to help you finish getting ready for bed. Thanking her as you got yourself comfortable between the silk sheets of you and Aegon's bed. Finally bidding her good night as she blew out most of the candles, leaving a few on for Aegon's drunken return.

You could not be sure of the hour when you heard your chamber doors creak open followed by the shuffling of feet. You did not even bother opening your eyes, assuming you'd feel the bed indent as Aegon stumbled towards it.

"Back so soon?" you teased, "I was only being half serious about the sunset-"

Suddenly, a large hand clamped over your mouth. Your eyes shot open as two men loomed over you. You screamed and panicked as the larger man used his other arm to keep you pinned to the bed.

"Quiet!" the smaller man pulled a blade out, pressing it to your throat, "Unless you want me to bleed you like a pig."

You nodded, terrified of what these men could do, "W-Who are you? What do you want?"

"Its not our wants you should be concerned with, Your Grace."

"Who sent you? What do y-you want from me?" your voice shook.

"A life is owed. It wasn't supposed to be you. A son for a son we were told," the smaller man shrugged, "But it seems Prince Aemond isn't in the castle tonight."

Of course, you thought. This was about Lucerys. Your younger brother had taken the boy's life and that was a deed that could not go unpunished. You knew how deeply your eldest sister loved all of her children. The loss of one would be devastating. Taking Aemond's life made sense. But taking yours? And the life of your unborn child? That was not in Rhaenyra's nature. This was plotted by someone far more sinister and dark.

"My uncle sent you, didn't he?" you spoke up. They both sent stares to the other, "Daemon Targaryen. He sent you to kill one of us."

The large man scoffed, "Aren't you a smart one?"

"Shame those smarts won't do you any good now, will they?" the smaller one mocked.

"Please," you tried to beg, "Do not do this. No good will-" The large hand came down on your mouth again.

"That's enough," he grunted before turning back to the smaller man, "I'll hold her down and you cut."

Your blood ran cold at his words. Not only were they going to kill you but they were going to tortuously cut out your unborn child. They both yanked you further down the bed until you were flat on your back. You tried to kick, scream, bite, thrash as much as you could but the man proved to have almost inhuman strength. The smaller man raised his blade, that same sadistic grin plastered on his face before he began to dig it into the lower part of your abdomen.

White hot pain seared through your body as he continued to slice into you. Your vision was blurred with tears and you could have sworn your throat was raw from your cries. Though the pain was so intense that you could not process the sounds that might have been leaving you. Warm blood pooled all around you, the once ivory sheets now a deep crimson. One last gasp left you as they pulled your child from your body.

Suddenly you had remembered your mother telling you about the pains of childbirth when you first married Aegon and all anyone could talk about was you producing his heirs. She had a rather negative approach that utterly terrified you. So, you decided to find comfort in Rhaenyra's advice instead.

"I will not withhold the truth from you, it truly is the most excruciating pain a woman must go through."

You groaned, "That is not what I had wished to hear, Sister."

"You did not let me finish. The process is hard, yes. And you will feel the urge to curse the Gods or even your husband and swear to never bear anymore children," you both laughed, "But the moment you hear those sweet cries and your babe is placed upon your chest, the pain is forgotten. And nothing has ever seemed so worth it. Then you will know, right then and there, that you would do it all over again if it meant you could finally find that purest form of love."

And yet, you would never discover that beautiful feeling your sister had painted so clearly. The room was almost eerily silent besides the dripping of blood onto the stone floor.

"What do you know?" the man panted as he held your lifeless infant, "A son. Congratulations, my Queen."

You could not speak as you felt your body numb itself. Tears falling with no cries as they stuffed your son's body into a sack. It was as if you could feel your heart shatter. The men finished their sinister act before fleeing through a secret passageway. You tried little to fight the heaviness in your eyes. Perhaps this was all a horrible dream and if you shut your eyes, you'd open them to find yourself in bed with Aegon's arms wrapped securely around your belly. The last thing you could muster was a small smile at the sentimental image as your vision faded out completely.

"Sister?" Helaena called out into your bed chamber, "I did not wish to wake you but Aegon is being so loud and I cannot sleep with him-" Her voice caught in her throat at the sight of your mangled body lying on the bed. Your figure lifeless and your eyes vacant as you stared at the canopy. She approached your body, a shaky hand reaching out to touch your face to be met with utter stillness. Helaena backed out of the room slowly, tears flowing down her cheeks before sprinting to find some sort of help. As if anyone could undo what had already been done.

"I-I don't know what happened. I came in and she...she was..." Helaena's voice cracked with sobs as various people filed into the royal bed chamber; the Kingsguard, the Dowager Queen, the Hand, and lastly, your husband.

They all stopped at the sight before them, their eyes welling with tears and their stomachs churning. The Dowager Queen let out a heavy sob as all their attention turned to the King. Aegon approached your body cautiously.

He fell to his knees, his hands cradling your bloodied face as he sobbed, "My wife, my dearest-"

Nobody dared say a word as Aegon mourned over you. His sobs heavy with grief as he called out your name over and over again. The Queen Mother clutching Helaena's arm as they cried with him. The Kingsguard hanging their heads low in shame at their failure to protect their Queen. Otto Hightower, known to be quick with his word, said nothing.

The council meeting that followed was one full of dread and grief. Most of the council mourned, the Hand schemed, and the King could do not but curse the Gods and swear revenge.

"Your Grace, perhaps we should speak of the funeral arrangements for the Queen-"

"No," Aegon was quick to stop the Hand, who raised a brow at his grandson's denial, "I will not have my wife's body dragged through the streets like a dog!"

"Not dragged, honored!" Otto corrected him before lowering his tone as he spoke to the King, "Y/N was my granddaughter and I loved her. She deserves the funeral of a Targaryen princess, a Targaryen queen. The small folk wish to mourn their Queen and the heir she carried. And they need to know who is responsible for this."

Aegon's face twisted in disbelief, "How could they not already know?! Who else would do this save the bitch queen of bastards?!"

"We must know for certain, Your Grace," Lord Jasper suggested, "If it was not your sister, this may prove to be an even bigger threat to the crown, to you, my King."

Aegon scoffed, "I do not care what threatens me. My wife is dead. And my child," he stifled a sob, "That cunt did this, I know it. Her and her kingdom of traitorous bastards will burn for it."

Before anyone could speak, the doors of the council chamber opened as Lord Larys entered. He bowed meekly as all eyes turned to him.

"My lords, Your Grace," he greeted the council.

All stood still, "State your purpose, Lord Larys," the Hand spoke.

"We have apprehended one of the assailants. A gold cloak, known for his brutal nature. The guards caught him fleeing the Gate of Gods. He carried the child's body in a sack."

The King hardly wasted any time, stomping over to the doors, "I shall kill him myself."

"We might retrieve further information about who is to blame for this tragedy after questioning," Ser Criston stopped Aegon from leaving as Otto spoke, "I trust in your skill set, Lord Larys."

The Strong Lord bowed before exiting the room. All eyes turned once again to the King and his Hand.

"We will hold the service for both the child and mother-"

"I said no," Aegon grunted, "My wife and child will not be put on display for the Realm."

"Your Grace, we might use this to our advantage in the war you wish to march into. Your people need to know the depravity that Rhaenyra is capable of. The great houses of Westeros will see that she is not fit to rule given her cruel nature. They will flock to your side and with them, their armies and bannermen."

Aegon continued to shake his head. He could not just let them see you or your child like that. They did not deserve it.

"Mother," he turned to the Dowager Queen for support.

Alicent approached Aegon's chair, "The Hand sets on a difficult path, my darling, but it might be the right one."

The King could not muster anymore fight, "Have the Silent Sisters prepare the Queen and child for their journey. Behind them will be Princess Helaena and the Queen Mother."

"No, I do not wish to be a spectacle," Alicent argued but her father would not hear it.

Your husband visited your body as the Silent Sisters began to prepare it. They had cleaned the mess and dressed you in one of your favorite dresses, the emerald color complimenting your skin and hair.

"Your Grace, it is ill-fated to look upon the face of death," Maester Orwyle warned.

"That is not the face of death, Maester. That is my wife," Aegon spoke, "Leave me with her."

Maester Orwyle and the Silent Sisters bowed before leaving the King with your body. He softly stroked the hair from your face as he broke into sobs once again.

"I am so sorry, my love," he cried, "I-I should have been there to protect you. And our son." Maester Orwyle had informed His Grace that the child you carried was a prince, a perfect heir, "You truly would have been the most wonderful mother. You were already a perfect wife and Queen. Motherhood would have come naturally."

Aegon recounted how well you did with Rhaenyra's last two babies, the ones she had with his uncle Daemon. As much as he did not care for his half-sister, he knew you did. Always quick to defend her, even against your own family. So, he was forced to ask himself, how could she do this to you? To your child?

"They will pay for what they have done," your husband muttered to you, "I will win this war. I will win it for our child. I will win it for you. With fire and blood. Your sacrifice will not be for naught, my Queen."

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Viktor... - Viktor x reader

Arcane Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Words: ~1100 TW: none

"Viktor!" you shouted, but the man never seemed to even consider stopping. "Viktor, wait!" Your desperation was growing stronger with every step, tears slowly blurring your vision.

Was this what he wanted? To disappear? Leaving you behind like you were nothing?

"Did I do something wrong?" your voice echoed as the man you once loved turned away, the dark cloak gracefully falling onto his new body. He wouldn't have even stopped to look at you if it wasn't for Jayce to tell you he was leaving. His body froze, his mind racing with the new sensations he felt. He slowly turned, strands of hair stuck to his forehead.

"No! I have to…" the hurt in his voice obvious. "I'm not…" he hesitated, not sure what to say next. Was he even alive? Was he even human? "I don't even know what I am anymore…"

You cautiously stepped towards him, taking in his features. He was suffering before, you knew that. He lost a lot of weight in the past years… His sickness was getting stronger, day by day, but now… Now he was standing in front of you, on his own legs. Now he was standing taller, the weakness you once saw in him gone.

Your hand pressed against his cheek, but he wasn't met with the warmth he once felt - it was something unusual. Peaceful, but not in a way he was able to understand. It was electrical, mechanical, not human-like. It was like a fire started underneath your palm, but it didn't hurt. His hand hesitantly touched yours, something that resembled a heartbeat seemingly getting stronger. Was it still his heart?

"I know what you are…" you said, the familiar brown eyes looking at you, their softness ever so unchanged.

"I killed Sky…" his voice trembled slightly, your heart skipping a beat. You were the first he ran to when this happened. The first to know everything he never let anyone know. You were the first to see him for who he really was. And now, thinking that you might be afraid of him, it made his body ache in unpleasant, strange ways. "I am murderer…" he eventually continued, his words quieter than they were in those many nights you spent together, hoping not to wake up anyone.

You just now realised the roughness of this new "skin", the coldness in it, a contrast to his gentle touches. Different from the way he used to worship you any chance he got. You were his only reason to continue fighting. His only reason to continue his research - because maybe, one day, your lives will be better. But the roughness was just on the surface... somehow, you could still feel the warmth. The kindness in his soul was as it always has been - unparalleled.

"No…" You softly said, cupping his cheeks. The touch sent a wave of energy coursing through him, not with the intensity of a shock, but with a steady, unyielding pull that reminded him of life itself. It felt like a promise, something soft yet grounding, pulling him back from the edge of despair. “You’re my Viktor…” The words hung in the air between you, their weight settling in the space around you both. Viktor didn’t move at first.

His eyes stayed locked on yours, searching for any trace of doubt, any sign that you might be lying. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. His breath came slower, almost as if he was afraid to exhale, fearful that the fragile connection you had could shatter with a single movement.

Viktor’s forehead found its peace against yours, just as it always did. But this time, there was a tremble in his touch, a hesitant pause before his lips parted to speak again. The gentle pulse of your shared breath seemed to reverberate through your bodies, and for a moment, the world outside of this fragile moment disappeared. You could feel the echo of his heartbeat, faint and distant, but still there, somehow keeping him tethered to you. "And nothing could make me not want to follow you until the end of the time…"

A small smile crept on his face, your words seemingly reassuring him, even if just a little, that maybe he was not as inhuman as he thought he was. "I can't ask you to follow me…" he told you, knowing that it would perhaps mean the end of your life. Knowing that it might bring you more pain than his disappearance would have.

"Of course you don't…" you chuckled. "But I will anyway. I always did as I pleased, right?" the sound of his soft laugh made your heart jump, your ears enlightened as you heard it.

His fingers intertwined with yours, the whole world becoming silent, almost nonexistent. In the stillness of the moment, this touch was a silent understanding, a bond that spoke louder than words ever could. Your souls were connected once again, just as they were always meant to be. Fighting to find each other, fighting to find peace once again and now… fulfilled that they were finally reunited.

"It's not gonna be easy…" he warned, pressing a light kiss on your temple before he moved away, the coldness of his absence making you shiver.

"It's never been… But we managed…"

He smiled and all of the stimulus he felt stopped. Something similar to peace conquered his form now. Something stronger than whatever the Hexcore was doing to him.

You pressed his hand against your chest, the vibrations of your heartbeat resonating through him. You could see his mouth slightly opening in fascination at the intensity of his senses.

"Can you feel it?" you asked. "Can you feel it beating under your touch?"

Viktor’s fingers tightened around your wrist, as if afraid to let go. For a moment, he said nothing. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, a mix of disbelief and awe flickering in his expression.

"I can't promise you I'm the same..." he whispered, his voice trembling as if uncertain whether this was real.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, a powerful pain overcoming it at his words. "Whatever IT'll happen, I will face it with you. I know I want this, just please... Please don't push me away." He caressed your cheek, a weak smile on his face as he saw the determination in your eyes. The world became still. It was peaceful now. The past was a distant memory. The future - uncertain.

But the present felt just right.

[lumosou]

୨୧ — How I Imagine the Harry Potter boys would kiss you ෆ˃̶͈̑.˂̶͈̑ෆ ; 𖦹 + ♡

ꕤ — Characters ; Harry J Potter. Ron Weasley. Fred Weasley. George Weasley. Neville Longbottom. Draco Malfoy. Blaise Zabini.

ꕤ — Discretion ; none! just tooth rotting love and fluff <3

ꕤ — A/n ; hi my lovelies! I wanted to do something cute n sweet for my first post ;3 so so excited to start posting on here !

; masterlist.

୨୧ — Harry J. Potter.

I think Harry would kiss you like he’s figuring it out as he goes—messy, unsure, but so full of feeling it’d make your head spin. Like, he’s not the type to sweep you off your feet with a perfectly choreographed kiss; he’s the type to bump noses with you first because he’s too nervous about getting it “right.” And honestly? That makes it so much better.

He’d start slow, probably brushing his lips against yours so softly it almost feels like an accident. But then, once he’s sure you’re into it—because he’s always making sure you’re okay—he’d lose himself a little. Like, his hands would slide up to cup your face, and you’d feel the slight scrape of his thumb along your jaw.

And God, I think he’d be so focused. Like, nothing else in the world matters except the way your lips feel against his. He’d press closer, maybe let out this little sigh, and it’d completely ruin you. But the best part? The way he’d look at you after. His cheeks all flushed, his hair even messier than usual, and that stupid shy grin that makes your knees weak. Because Harry kisses like he means it. Every time.

୨୧ — Ron Weasley.

I think Ron would kiss you like he’s got something to prove—half desperation, half pure, unfiltered sweetness. Like, he knows he’s not the smoothest guy out there, but he’s so determined to make you feel wanted that it doesn’t even matter. His kisses would be a little clumsy, a little too much at first, but in the cutest way—like he’s trying so hard to get it right that it just makes you want to kiss him more.

He’d be the type to start with this awkward pause, like he’s gearing himself up. His ears would go bright red (obviously), and he’d mumble something like, “Alright, here goes,” before diving in. His lips would be warm and soft, maybe even slightly chapped from hours out in the cold during Quidditch practice, and the moment he realized you were kissing him back? Oh, he’d melt.

Ron’s hands would get kind of fumbly—like, is he supposed to hold your face? Your waist? He’d settle for pulling you closer, holding you like you might disappear if he lets go. And when he pulls back, he’d have this dopey little grin, looking like he just won the Quidditch World Cup. Because kissing you would feel like winning to Ron. Every single time.

୨୧ — Fred Weasley.

Fred would kiss you like it’s the most fun he’s had all day—which, knowing him, it probably is. There’d be this spark of mischief behind every kiss, like he’s daring you to keep up with him. He’d definitely start with some cheeky comment, maybe teasing you for staring at his lips (even though he’s totally the one who leaned in first).

His kisses would be playful, always keeping you on your toes. He’d nip at your bottom lip just to hear you gasp, or he’d pull back for half a second to smirk at you, only to dive back in before you could even protest. But it wouldn’t just be teasing—because when Fred gets serious, oh, you feel it.

The moment you thread your fingers through his hair or tug him closer, he’d lose the joking edge. His hands would settle firmly at your waist, and his kisses would turn deeper, hungrier, like he can’t get enough of you. And when it’s over? He’d rest his forehead against yours, grinning like an idiot.

“Not bad,” he’d say, all cocky, even though you both know he’s already planning how to kiss you again. Because Fred kisses you like it’s a game—and you’re always his favorite prize.

୨୧ — George Weasley.

George would kiss you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. There’s no rush, no big buildup—just an easy, quiet confidence that makes you feel like you’ve always belonged in his arms. He’s softer than Fred, less about teasing and more about making you feel like you’re the only person in the room.

I think George would start by brushing his thumb along your cheek, his gaze steady but warm, like he’s making sure you’re okay with this. And then? He’d kiss you slowly, deeply, like he’s memorizing every little detail—the curve of your lips, the way you sigh when he tilts his head just right.

His hands would be steady, one resting lightly on your hip, the other slipping up to cradle the back of your neck. He wouldn’t need to pull you closer—you’d already be leaning into him without realizing it.

When he pulls back, he’d linger, his nose brushing yours, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I could get used to that,” he’d say, his voice low and teasing, but his eyes would give him away. Because George kisses you like you’re his favorite secret, and he’s not in any hurry to share.

୨୧ — Neville Longbottom.

Neville would kiss you like he can’t quite believe it’s happening. Like, he’d hesitate at first, overthinking every little detail—what if he messes up? What if you don’t actually want this? But the second your lips meet, all that doubt would melt away, and he’d kiss you like it’s the only thing that matters.

I think he’d start so gently, almost nervously, his lips barely brushing yours as his hands hovered awkwardly at your sides. But when you kiss him back, maybe run your fingers through his hair or pull him a little closer? That’s when Neville would relax and let himself get lost in the moment.

His kisses would be soft but steady, unhurried and full of care, like he’s trying to show you just how much you mean to him without fumbling for words. His hands would find your waist, warm and grounding, pulling you closer but never overwhelming you.

And afterward? He’d pull back, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, looking at you like you’d just handed him the moon. “Was that okay?” he’d ask, his voice small, but there’d be this quiet pride in his smile when he sees you grinning. Because Neville kisses you like he’s giving you his heart—and he kind of is.

୨୧ — Draco Malfoy.

Draco would kiss you like he’s got something to prove. There’s a tension to it, this electric mix of control and vulnerability, like he’s daring you to understand him better than he understands himself. His kisses wouldn’t just be about passion—they’d be about making you feel something, because Merlin knows he’s already feeling more than he’s ready to admit.

I think he’d start slow, almost teasing, brushing his lips over yours like he’s testing the waters. But the second you lean into it, the second you give him permission, it’s over. His hand would cup your jaw, tilting your face up just so, and he’d kiss you with this intensity that leaves no room for doubt—he wants you.

He’d be precise, calculated even, but there’s something raw underneath it all. Like, when your hands slide into his hair or tug at his robes, he’d let out this tiny, unguarded noise, and it’d make him kiss you harder, like he’s trying to drown in you.

When he pulls back, his breathing would be uneven, and he’d avoid your gaze at first, his cheeks faintly pink. But then he’d smirk—because of course he would—and murmur something cocky, like, “Don’t expect me to stop now.” Because Draco kisses you like it’s a battle he’s already lost—but he doesn’t mind losing to you.

୨୧ — Blaise Zabini.

Blaise would kiss you like it’s an art form. He’d be smooth, confident, and deliberate, every movement carefully designed to make you weak in the knees. He’s the type to take his time, to savor every second, because he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you—and he loves it.

I think he’d start by tilting your chin up with just the tips of his fingers, his dark eyes locked on yours like he’s daring you to look away. And then he’d lean in, brushing his lips against yours so lightly it’s almost maddening. He’d tease you like that for a moment, letting the anticipation build, until finally, finally he kisses you properly.

His lips would be soft but firm, moving with this unhurried precision that leaves you breathless. One hand would settle at the small of your back, pulling you closer with this effortless ease, while the other slides up to cradle the back of your neck, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

When he pulls back, he’d pause for just a second, letting his lips hover close to yours as a slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face. “Was that what you wanted?” he’d murmur, his voice low and teasing, like he already knows the answer. Because Blaise kisses you like it’s a privilege—and one he doesn’t take lightly.

﹙@ 𝗹𝘂𝗺𝗼𝘀𝗼𝘂 ﹚

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐅𝐅 .

# with portgas d. ace.

the mera mera no mi had a dozen benefits — setting your walls alight was but one of them.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, (late) day five. smut (mdni!). temperature play. devil-fruit usage. oral (reader!receiving). fingering. afab!reader. no y/n used.

WC: 2.4k.

portgas d. ace had fed himself with a fruit that granted him particularities similar to those of a furnace. fire coursed through his veins — oftentimes he mused the thought that it had burned whichever cells connected him to his father still. heat gave him a reputation; an untouchable anatomical state. fire fist ace, the fearsome second-in-command. flames and warmth were but a weapon and he never thought of it beyond that. until he found that the feelings labored for you burned brighter than whatever spark his fingers conjured.

lust first settled during the search for akagami no shanks — the man who had saved his younger brother’s life. amidst ice and torrid snow, you stood: a single thread of life with a clear distaste for the cold. hunched, trembling figure whose knees were pressed to one’s chest, cursing through parted lips, at the corner in an attempt to disappear from sight. when ace sat by your side, heat emanating from his flesh, you immediately pressed yourself against him, hiding your face as you clung to his arm. he had laughed then, hugging you until the trembling ceased, growing hotter at the sound of your relieved sigh.

the second time had been during a sudden — yet common — change in the weather at the approach of a winter island. ace had no intentions of lingering there whatsoever, and briefly instructed his crew to be swift in their business. you opted to remain on the ship, covered in tides of blankets with a lukewarm cup of untouched coffee in hand. ace wordlessly set a place behind you, nervous, yet smooth, as he pressed his palms over your shoulders and began an amateurish massage. he feared the prospect of his physical strength causing you pain, yet you merely leaned into his touch, moaning with your eyes closed as the shared warmth coursed through your body. ace thought himself vicious; disgusting; for he had felt a sudden twitch in his cock at the sounds.

at last, the snap came once he mingled with the whitebeard pirates, his past crewmates choosing to linger; accepting the shift in captains. you were bedridden, and marco had commented that heat could increase the comfort during menstrual cramps. ace caught on the words left unsaid, and offered, once again, to be your soothing warmth; your healing flame. you sounded grateful altogether, and had no problems falling asleep in his arms whatsoever, allowing his hands to be placed on the external root of your pain. sharing the bed had been enough for you to claim one another; to officiate the clear-as-day relationship born from reciprocal love.

although things had changed ever-since — from endless travels to foreign lands, to the survival of a terrible war —, ace’s hidden desire regarding his devil-fruit persevered. it was shown regardless of the weather, twitching erection even in alabasta, when sweat pooled on your cleavage; when he’d see you swimming, sea-salt clinging to your flesh; or the particular instances of quietness, when his fingers would travel through your body until they found your clit. oftentimes, when his cock was lost amidst your warm walls, perhaps out of sheer instinct, he’d find himself increasing the temperature of it, if only to access your reaction. a complicated gamble; the fear of maiming, alight fire born from his excitement. yet, you remained restless, as though understanding that he had a fair share of thoughts unshared. ace feared the moment in which you’d corner him, for he’d cave to your every desire.

he sighed, clicking his tongue in deep thought. the second thereafter, ace all but choked on his food, punching his chest with certain strength. he half-noted the glass of water placed on the table, and spat a final chunk of meat at a particularly harsh slap on his back. ace’s hand gripped the cup and he chugged the liquid, tear-filled eyes observing your figure — sitting on the other side of the small table, an interested expression on your face.

“careful now, hotstuff,” you scolded, and he flushed at the name. “where have you gone this time?”

the question had increased in frequency since the death of whitebeard — his chosen father. ace was unused to the idea of sharing his pain, rather preferring to bottle it up. you respected said decision, yet, more often than not, his prolonged quietness proved itself to be obnoxious. you stated that his thoughts traveled to a place you could not reach, and in said instants, you were forced to scratch the surface of his mind and tether it to the present at hand.

“nowhere important,” ace answered, clearing his throat. you merely raised an eyebrow, well aware of the poor-crafted lie. he gave in, unable to withstand the expectating — borderline disappointed — look on your face. “promise not to be creeped out?”

“by you?” the question posed itself as though a joke; incredulous. “ace—”

“i know,” he interrupted through a sigh. “still, i would hate to leave you uncomfortable.”

“try me,” you encouraged, nothing but love explicit through your features.

ace stretched his hand, palm facing you. he coaxed your approach with a movement of his index, tensing once your wrist was pressed against his skin. he was hesitant — fearful, even — when he activated his devil-fruit, a tempting and gradual increase in his temperature. you hummed, circling your wrist on his palm, testing the waters.

“warm,” you stated matter-of-factly, tapping your fingers on his arm. ace repeated the previous action, multiplying the valor of warmth; recoiling the flames that threatened to lick your flesh. “warmer.”

ace closed his fingers around your wrist, caressing the tender inches of skin. “is it distressing? painful?”

you chuckled, moving your head in denial. “it’s soothing, ace. it’s you.”

he smiled softly, breathing in order to gather further courage. “would you mind if i tried it elsewhere?”

you blinked, growing quiet for the briefest instance, although that had been enough to bloom certain insecurities within him. ace’s lips parted, tongue prepared to spill a dozen apologies — until your hand pushed the plates and cups aside and you sat on the table, sliding towards him. ace was aghast at your willingness; your excitement.

“now?” you inquired softly, gripping the hem of your dress, legs already crossed.

“you want it now?” a stupid question, truly, when one considered the blown state of your pupils.

“please,” you pleaded, already tugging at the edges of your clothing, raising it over your head.

ace’s hands groped your breasts, cock twitching at the sight and perspective of what could be done with them. his tongue lurked out, swiping a streak of saliva up your chest. you shuddered, to which ace smirked, twitching one of your hardening nipples. his digits grew brighter as a consequence of the shift in his temperature, offering a direct source of warmth to your flesh. he tested the length of his devil-fruit, internal fire reaching the tip of his tongue. ace latched his mouth around the bud, a pathetic rut of his hips following-in-suit as a consequence of your moaning.

he grew hotter, the gradual warmthness of your own skin teasing his nose. when your fingers tugged at his hair, ace’s tongue flicked; mouth applying pressure as he sucked on the flesh of your breast, well-aware of the consecutive loss of control on his powers. it felt as though entering a forest-fire to meet its god in the center, an ever-growing heat embracing your every nerve.

your nipple grew swollen at the attention — heated and pained —, whereas his saliva was a river of liquid flames, setting you alight. his unused hand traveled down your stomach, emerging goosebumps at its temperature. he pushed your back against the table, adoration poured into each featherlight touch. you heard the sound of his knees meeting the ground; felt his palm settling on your hip-bone. a pair of heated fingers traveled through your folds, spreading your essence through the extension of it. you whimpered, for your own pre-cum had its temperature shifted; fire reaching your very core.

ace sucked on your thigh, experienced thumb drawing fast-paced circles on your once neglected clit; bright digit behaving as though the teasing of a lighter. you squirmed, and he needed but a single hand to cage your figure. his lips left a trail of sensitive bruises, before they replaced his thumb, wrapping them around the swollen bud. the tip of his burning index teased your entrance, before he shoved three fingers inside — knuckle-deep — invading your walls with unthought suddenness. you mewled, unused — however excited — with the heat; dripping cunt close to boiling.

he moaned, sending vibrations through your body. his fingers curled inside you, teasing the gummy walls; igniting your g-spot. ace rutted against the air, erection caged in between the fabric of his clothes. regardless, he neglected his own needs for the sake of your own, observing, through his eyelashes, your face contorting in pleasure. ace gripped a fistful of your thighs, the warmth of it enough to burn lonesome inches of hair. when he made a sudden worried move, intending to retreat altogether, you gripped his hair yet again, shoving his face deeper into your cunt.

“d-don’t stop,” you pleaded, trembling legs threatening to close themselves around his head.

he moaned, setting a vigorous pace. his tongue ventured through your folds, nose buried deep; teasing your clit. ace moved his head to the sides, dragging your warm essence through his chin and mouth. his tongue drew a luscious, famished stripe before he sucked on the swollen, burning clit, nearly tearing up at the saltiness coating his palate.

“fuck, babe, you taste so good,” he groaned, voice coming out muffled, for the ministrations of his mouth remained. you moaned at the compliment, arching your back at the retreat of his fingers — nails at your entrance — before he shoved them inside yet again, a relentless pace that had your cunt squeezing the digits, dripping down his palm.

your entire figure trembled, thighs caging him, feet sliding down his muscular back. ace’s tongue was molten-fire against your clit, zigzagging around it, his face covered in specks of burning pre-cum — growing reddish at the prolonged contact. curling toes; ruthless tug at his hair. he drowned on your cunt, mouth claiming every drop of your essence while his fingers abused your g-spot.

your voice was a broken choir whose words were all but variations of his name. it flared up his ego, had him switching to shove a burning tongue inside your clenching cunt; fingers parting your folds open as a set of two circled around your clit. he all but slurped; humped the air. a wet patch stained his pants, and one could smell the stench of burning fabric as he pre-cum escaped past his tip, a tide of wild flames.

“ace, ‘m close,” you mewled, breathing out heavily, eyes tethered to the sight of his soaked face.

he retreated his lips for the briefest second to press a searing, burning kiss on your entrance, smirking at your drawn-out moan. the pace of his fingers on your clit increased, and ace bit on your outer labia, his other hand pinching on your trembling thigh.

“cum for me, love,” he encouraged, yet again shoving a warm tongue inside, his chin and nose buried in your cunt.

the knot unraveled itself, and your orgasm tore you from inside-out, drowning his face. ace chased it, famished mouth claiming every droplet of cum that fell on his awaiting tongue, his fingers working still as he stimulated the tides of your high. with a final stripe of the warm muscle, ace leaned his face backwards, licking his lips and tracing the cum that lingered on his chin. he shoved a thumb inside his mouth, sucking the rest of it; removing the finger with a pop. his flesh had a shade pale pink where your essence had touched.

ace spread your legs and got on his feet, eyes tethered to the sight of your bare body on the table, sweat-etched skin glistening under the natural light. “it was a delicious appetizer.”

you laughed then, opening your arms — a solace, whose walls he could rest within. ace’s glance softened ever-so-slightly at the sound, and his chest leaned forward, drawn by your sentence. “come and get the main course, hotstuff.”

his fingers fidgeted with buttons, zippers and straps, a loud groan following-in-suit when his erection slapped against his stomach. swollen, leaking tip sensitive enough to make him hiss due to the merest brush of the wind. ace buried his face on your neck, licking the sweat off your flesh as his hand blindly aligned his shaft with your entrance. the girth slid in with fair easiness, the reminiscing drops of your previous orgasm mingling; enveloping the neglected head.

when ace bottomed out, the pair of you moaned in unison. your nails dug on his back as his hips set a languid pace, flushed tip reaching deep into your g-spot. his cock was a conflagration, forcing your walls to match the absurd temperature, shared heat enhancing both of your senses; increasing the sensitivity. the legs of the table complained at every harsh, wild thrust, balls slapping your ass as he hammered himself inside — sudden retreat of the tip; aggressive shove of the base until he had you filled with his girth. you babbled a sequence of compliments that had him twitching; drooling inside.

your legs wrapped around his waist, and both his hands settled themselves on the back of your thighs. his mouth sang luscious moans as his tongue and teeth bruised the skin of your neck — visible marks; explicit claim of what was his. ace’s pace grew erratic at the approach of his orgasm, the warmth leaving him sensitive to the point of embarrassment. your walls sucked him in, a famished, selfish lover that wished for nothing but to milk him dry.

when he pressed his forehead against yours, the act itself held an intimacy he once could ever dream of having with another, and the act itself soothed the once miserable soul of a child unwanted. ace breathed out into your mouth, words failing him as you nodded, increasing the strength of your legs around him.

“cum inside,” you cried out, raking your nails down his tattooed back. “want it—want you, all of you.”

ace struggled to keep his eyes open as he shot his load into you. it was of an alarming heat, leaving a lingering burning sensation on his tip. you mewled, sobbing as fire incarnated smeared your sensitive walls, leaving but a trail of metaphorical ashes in its wake. ace pressed butterfly-kisses on your face, lips claiming dried tears and accumulated sweat. his thrusts assumed a slower pace, a final chase of his high until the both of you were left a frail, exhausted mingle of bodies. his hands left your thighs; your legs fell, limp, dangling from the table.

the merest glance at your lover’s face had your eyes widening, hands pushing his chest. “don’t you dare, ace! the table will break—”

he collapsed into you, shifting your bodies at the last second. wood gave in to his weight, and his back all but met the ground, arms encircling your figure as your side was pressed to his chest. ace caressed your ass, mumbling about how he needed to clean you properly — and snoring thereafter.

you snorted, caressing his cheek. “sleep well, hotstuff.”

— 🐈‍⬛ : happy late kinktober, time is a concept!

[florawrites-blog]

Audacity - enhypen

-Enhypen reaction to you babying their members

Lee heeseung - 이희승

In the warmth of the cozy living room, the aroma of freshly made soup filled the air as you sat beside Jay, who looked pale and exhausted. He’d been the one to care for everyone else, but now, with a fever making him weak, it was your turn to return the favor.

You gently stirred the soup, bringing the spoon closer to his lips. “Come on, Jay, just one more spoon. It’ll help you feel better,” you encouraged, your voice soft and reassuring.

Jay, eyes barely open, managed a small, grateful smile. “I can do it myself,” he mumbled, but his body betrayed him as he struggled to lift his arm. You shook your head, insisting he let you help.

Just as you were about to offer another spoonful, a loud throat clearing interrupted the moment. Startled, you turned to see Heeseung standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. His eyes flicked from you to Jay, then back to you. The silence that followed was heavy, almost tangible.

Heeseung didn’t say a word. He simply walked past you, his gaze lingering a little too long before he disappeared down the hallway. You frowned, confusion settling in as you finished feeding Jay.

Later that evening, you found Heeseung in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, staring at his phone. You approached him cautiously, placing a hand on his arm. “Heeseung, is everything okay?”

He looked up briefly, his expression still guarded, before returning his attention to his phone without a word. The cold shoulder he was giving you sent a shiver down your spine.

“Are you upset because of earlier?” you asked, trying to get him to open up.

Heeseung remained silent, his face giving nothing away. The tension in the air was palpable, and it hurt to see him like this, especially when you didn’t fully understand why.

You sighed, stepping closer to him. “Heeseung, talk to me. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s nothing,” he finally muttered, cutting you off. But his tone said otherwise. The distance between you, despite being only a few feet, felt like a chasm.

The rest of the evening passed in a strained silence, and even when you tried to engage him in conversation, he kept his responses short, never looking directly at you. The warmth and affection that usually filled the air between you two were replaced by an uncomfortable coldness.

As you lay in bed that night, Heeseung’s back turned towards you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. You reached out, gently placing your hand on his shoulder. “Heeseung, please… I’m sorry if I upset you.”

He stiffened under your touch, but after a long pause, he sighed deeply, finally turning to face you. “It’s just… seeing you with Jay like that, taking care of him… I know he’s sick, but it made me feel… jealous, I guess,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart ached at his words. “Heeseung, you know you’re the one I love, right? I was just helping Jay because he needed it.”

“I know,” he said, his voice softer now, the anger in his eyes replaced by vulnerability. “But I couldn’t help feeling like… maybe you care for him more.”

You shook your head, reaching out to cup his cheek. “That’s not true. I care about all of you, but what I have with you is different, special. You’re my boyfriend, Heeseung, and I love you.”

Heeseung’s expression softened, and he finally pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “I’m sorry for giving you the silent treatment. I just didn’t know how to deal with what I was feeling.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, relieved that the tension between you was melting away. “Just don’t shut me out again, okay? We can talk through anything.”

He nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I promise. And I’ll try not to get jealous so easily next time.”

You smiled, snuggling closer to him, feeling the warmth return to your relationship. The silence that had once felt so cold was now comforting, filled with understanding and love.

Park jongseong - 박종성

The morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow in the room as you stood in front of Jungwon, carefully fixing his tie. He was dressed in a sharp suit, ready for an important event, but there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. You smiled, trying to ease his anxiety.

"Look at you, you look adorable," you said, your voice filled with affection as you adjusted the knot on his tie.

Jungwon blushed slightly, offering a shy smile. "Thanks, I just want everything to go smoothly today."

"You’ll be amazing, don’t worry," you reassured him, smoothing down the fabric of his suit jacket. "Now, go out there and show them what you’ve got."

Just as you finished, you turned around and froze. There, leaning casually against the door frame, was Jay, his eyes locked onto you. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—maybe curiosity, maybe something more.

Jungwon, unaware of the tension, flashed a quick smile at Jay before heading out to the event. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with your boyfriend.

You approached Jay with a smile, arms open, ready to hug him, but he remained still, his eyes still locked onto yours. As you got closer, he tilted his head slightly and spoke, “Wow, princess, don’t you think you’re babying him a bit too much lately?”

You couldn’t help but scoff, hitting his chest playfully. “Oh, come on, Jay. You baby him more than I do! And he’s literally the cutest, so you can’t blame me.”

Jay’s serious expression softened as he let out a small laugh, his arms finally wrapping around you, pulling you close. “Okay, okay, you’re right. He is the cutest. But…” he leaned down, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper, “remember, he’s my son, not yours.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Fine, I’ll try not to ‘baby’ him too much. But you’re not off the hook either, Mr. Overprotective.”

Jay grinned, tightening his hold on you. “Deal. Just don’t forget who your number one is.”

“I could never forget,” you murmured, leaning up to kiss him, the playful banter giving way to a tender moment. Jay’s initial jealousy was all but forgotten, replaced by the warmth of your shared love.

Sim jaeyun = 심재윤

You and Ni-ki were sitting on the floor of the living room, intense concentration written on both your faces as you played a competitive game. Ni-ki had been winning most of the rounds, as usual, but this time, against all odds, you managed to pull off a victory. The rare moment of defeat caught Ni-ki off guard, and he stared at the screen in disbelief.

You couldn’t resist ruffling his hair playfully, a grin spreading across your face. “Can’t win them all, Ni-ki,” you teased, enjoying the rare moment of triumph.

He pouted slightly but then shrugged it off with a smile, accepting his loss with grace. As you got up to grab some water, you turned around and spotted Jake standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and the biggest pout you’d ever seen on his face. If someone else saw him, they’d probably think you’d just taken away his favorite toy.

You walked over to him, trying to hold back a laugh at how dramatically upset he looked. “Jake, what’s wrong?” you asked softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

But instead of answering, Jake lowered his head in an exaggerated manner and began walking away, his steps slow and heavy as if he was carrying the weight of the world. That’s when it hit you—he was jealous. The realization made you burst out laughing, and you quickly followed him, your arms wide open, ready to pull him into a hug.

Jake, however, quickened his pace, determined to stay just out of reach. “Come on, you big baby, come here and let me take a look at you,” you called after him, your voice filled with amusement.

“No, go away from me,” Jake replied dramatically, glancing back at you with a hurt expression. “Go to Ni-ki and let me die because apparently, you hate me.”

You rolled your eyes, still laughing at his antics. “Oh, please, be for real, Jake.”

“Oh wow, so now it’s just Jake, okay,” he said, his tone even sadder, but you could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Not wanting to drag it out any longer, you finally caught up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “You know I love you, right?” you whispered into his ear, clinging to him.

Jake let out a dramatic sigh but finally relented, turning in your arms to face you. “I guess I can forgive you… this time,” he mumbled, though his pout remained.

You grinned, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, my big, jealous baby.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that, pulling you closer. But for the rest of the day, you noticed him sending death glares in Ni-ki’s direction whenever he thought you weren’t looking, making you shake your head and smile. Jealous Jake was something else, but you loved him for it.

Park sunghoon - 박성훈

You stepped into the dorm, the familiar sounds of the boys unwinding after practice filling the space. Your boyfriend, Sunghoon, had just come back with the rest of the group, and you were excited to see him. But before you even thought about greeting him, your concern was elsewhere.

Spotting Jake sitting on the couch with his leg propped up, you hurried over, worry etched across your face. “Oh my God, look at you! You look so bad. How’s your ankle now?” you asked in a baby voice, your eyes filled with concern as you kneeled beside him.

Jake gave you a sheepish smile, appreciating the attention. “It’s not too bad, really. Just a little sore.”

Before you could ask anything more, you felt a sudden tug on your hoodie. You barely had time to react before Sunghoon, his face a mix of annoyance and jealousy, pulled you away from Jake with a firm grip. His glare could have frozen over a volcano, and he didn’t say a word as he guided you to his room, closing the door behind you.

Once inside, he let go of your hoodie and crossed his arms, looking at you with narrowed eyes. “Seriously? The first thing you do when you get here is run to Jake? What about me?” he scolded, his voice a mix of frustration and hurt.

You bit your lip, trying to keep a straight face as he continued. “I’m your boyfriend, and I’ve barely seen you all day. And you—”

But as he kept talking, you realized you had other plans. He was adorable when he was upset, but he was also talking way too much. Without warning, you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, and pulled him down into a kiss.

Sunghoon’s words immediately died on his lips as he melted into the kiss, all his frustration evaporating in an instant. You felt him relax, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer.

When you finally pulled away, a small, satisfied smile played on your lips. “I’m here now, okay? And I’m all yours,” you whispered.

Sunghoon sighed, his expression softening as he leaned his forehead against yours. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he muttered, but there was no real anger in his voice anymore.

You chuckled, giving him another quick peck on the lips. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

He couldn’t argue with that, pulling you into his arms for a long, warm embrace. The earlier jealousy was forgotten, replaced by the comfort of having you there with him.

Kim sunoo - 김순우

You were sitting on the couch with Sunghoon, casually chatting about your day when he suddenly sighed and looked down at his stomach. “I think I’ve gained some weight recently,” he mumbled. “Maybe I should start dieting.”

The moment the words left his mouth, you instantly shifted into full-on mother mode. “Absolutely not!” you exclaimed, moving closer to him. “You don’t need to diet, Sunghoon. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

Ignoring his awkward chuckle, you gently grabbed his face, cupping his cheeks in your hands as you lectured him. “You need to eat well and take care of yourself. No more talk about dieting, okay? Promise me.”

Just as Sunghoon was about to respond, a loud, dramatic gasp echoed through the room. You turned to see Sunoo standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open as if he’d just witnessed the most shocking betrayal. He looked at you with the ugliest side-eye he could muster, his expression full of exaggerated disbelief.

“Wow, Y/N, just wow,” Sunoo said, his voice dripping with melodrama as he turned away, clutching his chest like someone had stolen his most prized possession.

You blinked in surprise, realizing what this was about. “Oh, come on, Sunoo, don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you said, trying not to laugh.

But before you could explain further, Sunghoon, clearly not wanting to be caught in the middle of this, awkwardly excused himself and disappeared in a flash, leaving you to deal with Sunoo.

You got up and followed Sunoo, who had dramatically flopped onto the nearest chair, his back turned to you in mock offense. “Sunoo, you know I love you too, right?” you said, trying to coax him out of his sulk.

He glanced back at you, still pouting. “But you were babying Sunghoon. You’ve never babied me like that.”

You sighed, knowing you had to make it up to him. “Okay, fine. I’ll make it up to you. What do you want?”

Sunoo’s eyes lit up instantly, his pout disappearing as he turned to face you fully. “I want you to stay up all night and watch a K-drama with me. Of my choice.”

You groaned playfully, but there was no way you could say no to him. “Deal,” you agreed, rolling your eyes but smiling at the same time.

Sunoo beamed, his previous sulk completely forgotten. “Good! And you’d better not fall asleep halfway through,” he warned, wagging a finger at you.

You laughed, pulling him into a hug. “I won’t, I promise. But you owe me one next time.”

Sunoo grinned, snuggling into your embrace. “We’ll see about that.”

And so, as the night wore on, you found yourself curled up with Sunoo, binge-watching his favorite K-drama. It was a small price to pay to see him happy, and despite the tiredness creeping in, you couldn’t help but enjoy the moment.

Yang jungwon - 양중원

The day had been going well enough until Heeseung’s members decided to tease him mercilessly. They poked fun at him for being “hoe-less,” joking that he couldn’t even get a girl if he tried. It was all in good fun, but you could see the way Heeseung’s shoulders slumped just a little, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes.

You couldn’t stand seeing him like that. Without a second thought, you moved to sit beside him, wrapping your arms around him in a comforting hug. “Don’t listen to them,” you said softly, your voice full of affection. “You’re amazing, and any girl would be lucky to have you.”

Heeseung blushed, You continued to baby him, gently stroking his hair and showering him with compliments, doing everything you could to make him feel better because as much as you know his members meant it as a joke heeseung confident was getting bruised.

But as you did, you felt a pair of eyes boring into you. Glancing up, you saw Jungwon across the room, his gaze fixed on you with a look that could almost burn a hole through you. His expression was unreadable, but you could sense the tension in the air. For the rest of the time you spent with Heeseung, Jungwon didn’t say a word to you. He just watched, his eyes never leaving you.

Later that evening, you noticed that Jungwon was acting distant. He barely spoke to you, and when he did, it was brief and curt. The playful, affectionate Jungwon you were used to was nowhere to be found. When it was time for bed, he even skipped your usual goodnight kiss, which left you feeling hurt and confused.

Determined to fix whatever was wrong, you reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward you. “Jungwon, what’s going on? You didn’t give me my goodnight kiss,” you said, your voice laced with concern.

But Jungwon just stubbornly turned his head away, refusing to meet your eyes. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, but his tone said otherwise.

You sighed, feeling a pang of frustration. You tried tugging at his hand again, hoping he’d relent, but he remained stiff and unyielding. Finally, you gave up, feeling more hurt than ever, and turned over in bed, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in your chest.

Sleep didn’t come easy. Even as you drifted off, you found yourself mumbling his name, a soft plea for the closeness you were missing. Unbeknownst to you, Jungwon had been watching you the whole time, his heart twisting at the sight of you so vulnerable and longing for him.

Suddenly, any lingering frustration he felt melted away, replaced by an overwhelming urge to hold you close. Unable to resist, Jungwon leaned over and began covering your face with soft, rapid kisses, unable to stop himself from expressing just how much he adored you.

The sensation of his lips on your skin stirred you from your sleep, and you blinked up at him in surprise. “Jungwon?” you mumbled, still half-asleep.

He didn’t stop, pressing kisses all over your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, until you were fully awake and giggling beneath his affection. “I’m sorry,” he whispered between kisses. “I didn’t mean to be so distant. I was just… jealous, I guess.”

You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You know you don’t have to be jealous, right? You’re the only one I want.”

He finally stopped his assault of kisses, pulling you close and nuzzling into your neck. “I know. I’m sorry for being stubborn earlier.”

“It’s okay,” you murmured, running your fingers through his hair. “Just don’t shut me out again.”

He nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, finally giving you the goodnight kiss you’d been waiting for. “I won’t. I promise.”

With that, you both settled down, tangled up in each other’s arms, and the rest of the night passed in peaceful, contented sleep.

Ni- ki -남편

You were lounging on the couch with Sunoo, scrolling through pictures on your phone from yesterday’s fan sign. As you came across a particularly adorable photo of him, you couldn’t help but gush. “Sunoo, look at this! You were so cute yesterday,” you exclaimed, showing him the picture. “I swear, you’re my bias!”

Sunoo giggled, clearly enjoying the praise. “Really? I was just being myself.”

“Well, your ‘just being yourself’ is enough to make everyone fall for you,” you continued, your voice full of affection. “You’re seriously the cutest, Sunoo.”

As you continued to shower him with compliments, you noticed a shift in the atmosphere. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ni-ki sitting nearby, his expression growing darker by the second. He wasn’t saying anything, but you could practically feel the waves of jealousy radiating off him. His usual carefree demeanor had been replaced by a subtle sulk, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Realizing what was happening, you quickly tried to smooth things over. “But, of course, my absolute favorite is you, Ni-ki,” you said, turning your attention to him. “No one can compare to you.”

But Ni-ki was already deep into his jealous funk. He crossed his arms, avoiding your gaze, and mumbled something under his breath. You could tell he wasn’t going to be easily convinced, and it seemed like you’d have to work a bit harder to get back into his good graces.

You got up and walked over to him, kneeling in front of him so you could look up into his eyes. “Hey,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand. “You know I love you, right? No one else could ever take your place.”

Ni-ki didn’t pull away, but he also didn’t respond. He just kept his eyes fixed on the floor, his expression unreadable. You sighed, realizing that this was going to take some serious effort.

For the rest of the day, you devoted yourself to babying Ni-ki. You followed him around, insisting on doing little things for him, like bringing him snacks, fluffing his pillows, and even giving him a back massage. Every time he tried to brush you off, you’d just smile and keep at it, determined to break through his jealousy.

At first, he resisted, remaining stubbornly distant. But as the hours passed, you could see his defenses slowly crumbling. He started responding to your efforts with small smiles, and eventually, he stopped resisting altogether.

By the time the evening rolled around, Ni-ki was finally starting to warm up to you again. He let out a long sigh as you sat beside him on the couch, leaning into you a little. “You’re really annoying, you know that?” he muttered, but there was no bite in his words.

You grinned, taking that as a sign that he was coming around. “Maybe, but you still love me,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

You leaned in, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry if I made you feel left out earlier. You’re always my number one, Ni-ki.”

He finally relented, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Okay, fine. Just… don’t forget about me next time.”

“Never,” you promised, planting a kiss on his cheek. “You’re stuck with me forever.”

He chuckled, finally letting go of the last bit of his jealousy. “I guess I can live with that.”

The rest of the evening was spent in comfortable silence, with Ni-ki’s jealousy fully melted away. He was back to his usual self, and you were more than happy to have your playful, loving boyfriend back in your arms.

[fiber-optic-alligator]

I would LOVE to see a TFA!Megatron x human reader of some kind. I love him so much, such an intimidating and scary but fun version of him 🤭 I want it to be in the First Contact AU still, but why not sorta spice things up and make it have soulmates in it? Wouldn't it be cool to have a giant alien warlord from space destroying cities to find their soulmate? 😳🫣 lol if this idea sucks de bout it, but I'm excited to see your works that's transformers g/t related!

- ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST CHAMELANON! PLEASE ENJOY!!! God I love TFA Megs so much. He's so hot AUGH!

Be Careful What You Wish For

Pairing: TFA Megatron x Human Reader (Soulmate Au)

Word Count: 2961

Summary: Soulmates exist, and you have one. Proof exists in the form of soulmarks: a red thread-like tattoo imprinted on a person's arm. Only when one meets their soulmate and touches them will the soulmark disappear. Unfortunately, you have yet meet yours. After many lonely days wishing you would be reunited with your Other Half, a chaotic encounter with the leader of the Decepticons has you realizing one thing. And it is that soulmates persevere across time...and space.

Soulmates are real.

  Since you were a young child, this is what you have been told. Soulmates are real, and every person has one. The special red thread that connects two people twines between the left hand’s fingers, up the arm, snaking under the clavicle and ending directly over the heart. Bright like the blood running through your veins, it is your life force, your compass leading you to your Other Half, with your hand outstretched to touch theirs…and only then will the red thread disappear.

  You’ve spent hours staring at that red line, tracing the pattern it makes on your flesh. It’s been a constant presence throughout your life…and it has never gone away. No matter who you’ve met, who you have fallen in love with, who you have fallen out of love with, it is all the same. The thread remains, and you continue to carry a lonely heart within you.

  “Give it time,” your loved ones tell you. “You’ll find them. It won’t happen in a heartbeat. You need to be patient.”

  Yes, you know. Patience, after all, is a virtue. Plenty go about their lives and never even see their thread go away. An existence without your soulmate can be a perfectly happy one. But you want to know who your Other Half is. You want to be one of the lucky few who can be counted as soulfully complete.

  Sitting in a coffee shop with a hot chocolate cupped between your hands, you find yourself once again observing your thread. The morning is cold; you can feel the wind trying to bite you through the shop’s large glass window. People bundled in their coats, scarves, and gloves hurry by, heads down and minds focused on whatever tasks they have at hand. Looking out, you observe them with a blank stare, not really observing them at all.

  “Anything I can get you right now?” The older woman who owns the shop comes up to you, offering a plate of freshly baked cookies. “Chocolate chip? They’re right out of the oven!”

  You offer her a thin smile and shake your head no. She understands; she’s seen you forlornly watching couples pass by. Sighing, she sets down the plate. “You know,” she says. “I didn’t meet my soulmate until I was in my early 40’s.”

  You raise an eyebrow. She sees your surprise and chuckles. “I know, right? A little late to be meeting my Other Half. But hey, it happened. And now look at me! I’m living a good life, running a successful business, and I got to see my thread go away. Those are all things I never thought I’d get to experience. All I had to do was wait a little!”

  You cringe. Yes, waiting. It seems all you’ve been doing is waiting, waiting, waiting, all for a soulmate who might never come. You and your damn waiting.

  She notices your mood go sour and sighs again. “Listen, all I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t lose hope. You’ll meet your soulmate. I know you’ve probably heard this before, but…you need to give the world time to sort things into order. That’s all you really can do when you're dealing with the threads of fate.”

  You mumble a quiet “Thank you” and try to look appreciative, when you feel anything such. She says no more, but leaves you a cookie before heading off to tend to the other customers. You watch her go, then lift up your left hand. Your thread is vibrantly bright, showing no signs of fading any time soon.

  Yeah, you think sadly while you bite into the cookie. No hope lost whatsoever.

  You are walking out of the shop when it happens. The door’s little chimes clink together as you swing it open and bid the owner farewell. And then, a pain unlike any other hits you with the force of a freight train. It tackles you and makes you stagger, knees buckling and bringing you to the ground in a matter of seconds. Your heart starts slamming against your ribcage so hard you think a bone might crack. Pushing your hand against your chest, you pant and watch your vision swim as you attempt to get to your feet, yet fail and fall down once more.

  Multiple people help you up, each one asking if you are alright. You hold out a shaking hand as if to assure them, but no sound comes out of your mouth when you try to speak.

  Someone says, “Call an ambulance!” You want to tell them you are fine; unfortunately, you can’t seem to form any coherent words. All that rises up from your throat is a thin, wispy whimper.

  The chaos continues when out of nowhere, an explosion erupts further down the street. People scream and scramble back. The people holding you let go, and you nearly topple right over again. Shouts of panic and confusion fill the air, confirming that no one has a clue as to what is going on.

  Two dark shapes scream through the sky. You look up just in time to see a fighter jet fly past with a bomber plane following behind. For a moment, you think this is some sort of military aerial show-why such a thing would be happening in the middle of winter, you don’t know-but it’s the only conclusive argument you can decide on what you are seeing.

  But then the two planes start descending. They roar over the crowded street, then begin morphing and shaping themselves into creatures completely different from the disguises they previously sported. You recognize them: they are Cybertronians. Robots from outer space who have become borderline celebrities in Detroit since arriving here months earlier. These two, however, aren’t members of the heroic Autobots who help protect the city. They are Decepticons. The villains, the destroyers. The bad ones.

  The smaller of the two stretches his arms over his head. He laughs maniacally as he watches people run. “Look at them, Lugnut! They’re scurrying away like little ants!”

  The other Deception growls and pays no mind to his partner. “Silence, Blitzwing. Lord Megatron has a mission for us to complete. We must distract the humans while he finds the one he is looking for.”

  Blitzwing’s face swivels and changes into an icy blue expression. He surveys the humans around him with an air of disgust. “I don’t understand why Lord Megatron cares to capture one of these creatures. They are far too weak to be kept as pets.”

  “It is not my place to question him, nor is it yours. We are here to do as we are told and give our lord the time he needs to complete his mission.” Lugnut grabs a car and throws it into the air. It crashes down with a heavy slam, windows shattering, metal crumpling, alarm screeching out the vehicle’s pain. You watch in horror, unable to fathom that you have a front row seat to this show of destruction Detroit is about to face.

  Yeah, no, you think. I’m not sticking around. These Decepticons obviously have no regard for human lives. If you remain here, there is a high chance you will end up dead. You need to run, now.

  “You're not going anywhere, little one.”

  The voice is deep, and it pulses through your mind like a gong. You clutch your head and bite back a shout of pain. A strange feeling builds up in your chest. It makes your heart beat faster, and your thread begins to burn with an uncomfortable warmth you have never felt before.

  A third vehicle appears from the sky: a strange helicopter with two blades and a massive cannon mounted beneath its cockpit. Your hair whips back when it lands. The Cybertronian’s body condenses and rises, metal folding over metal, creating a gigantic figure with narrowed red eyes that immediately land on you the moment they open. Your jaw drops; this is easily the biggest mech you have ever seen. And you recognize him. Megatron, the feared leader of the Decepticon forces, and the worst bot you could run into right now.

    Lugnut drops to his knees and bows. “I serve you, Lord Megatron!”

  Megatron does not acknowledge him. He remains focused on you. You are finding it hard to breathe.

  Blitzwing walks over to the taller mech. “My lord, the Autobots will be arriving soon. What should we do?”

  “Continue destroying what you can.” Megatron’s voice is a deep rumble of thunder. You feel the wind get knocked out of you when you hear it. His voice. His voice. Why are you so focused on his voice?

  Your thread is beginning to burn. You slap your hand over your left arm and squeeze, hissing through your teeth. Megatron notices; he looks intrigued.

  “Have you found what you are looking for, master?” Lugnut asks.

  “Indeed I have,” Megatron replies. “And I don’t intend to let it escape me. Resume your orders. Keep the Autobots back for as long as you can. Once I have what we came here for, I will sound the retreat.”

  Blitzwing and Lugnut do not question him any further. You, on the other hand, are questioning everything. Why is this robot having such an effect on you? Why can you hear his voice in your head? And why, why is your soulmark on fire?!

  He’s here for me. There’s no solid confirmation that has been given to you about this, but you know deep down it is true.

  He’s looking right at me.

  Shit. Fuck.

  Your legs want to move. But your brain forbids it and forces you to remain put, even as other people go running by you, their screams mingling as one high-pitched wail while Blitzwing and Lugnut destroy anything they can get their hands on.

  Megatron remains still. He tilts his head with the air of a curious predator who is searching out the weak spots of his prey. You cannot drop eye contact with him. Something about his piercing gaze has you rooted to the spot in which you stand.

  Only when he begins lumbering towards you do you snap out of it and run with the rest.

  Everything is a blur for you. You nearly get shoved to the ground multiple times by the panicked masses who are fleeing. It feels like Detroit is crashing down. Police drones are flying in to fight back against the Decepticons, but you don’t think for a second they’ll do any damage against them. After all, they hardly ever do.

  “Don’t run from me, little one.”

  There is pain. So much pain. It is too much for you to handle. It causes you to collapse, clutching your head and writhing in agony.

  “You are so much more fascinating than the rest of your pathetic kind.”

  The ground trembles. Each step signals the robot drawing closer and closer.

  “Why can I feel what you feel? Why does my spark tremble with your fear? I don’t understand it. I need to understand it. So stop running, and come here.”

  You need to keep going. Grunting, you struggle to your feet and stumble forward in a haphazard fashion. You don’t even bother looking back to see if the robot is close. You just need to run. You need to hide.

  Your miracle appears in the form of a parking garage. Squirming under the partially closed grated gate, you find that it is abandoned; no one is in here with you, and the cars are all empty, abandoned by their owners. You retreat into a corner dark and covered with shadows. It should provide you with the necessary cover you need in order to hide.

  You remain in there for what feels like hours.  It goes awfully quiet outside. Any remaining civilians are long gone. Somewhere close, you think you hear the sound of mechs duking it out. Your breathing echoes off of the parking garage’s walls, giving you a further sensation of complete unease. Perhaps hiding in here wasn’t the best choice. Maybe you should have continued running with other people to a safer spot. Allowing others to be in your presence would endanger them…but now you are alone, completely defenseless to those who wish you harm. The robot who is currently stalking you can kill you without even thinking about it. By hoping to protect the city, you may have ensured your own doom.

  You hear stomping outside. Too loud to be human, too heavy to be an Autobot. Your heart tugs eagerly on its strings in an attempt to break free. It’s a mutual sensation of utter fear and strange wanting.

  “Where are you?”

  You see the massive head of the mech appear right underneath the gate. A shriek nearly escapes you, and you have to slap your hands over your mouth to quell it. A single roving red eye searches the garage, unblinking.

  “I am not known for my patience, human. If you do not show yourself, I cannot guarantee things will end up well for you.”

  The eye settles on you. It narrows and a low growl emits from the robot’s intake. “There you are.”

  You have no chance to react before Megatron’s hand smashes through the gate. You scream when his fingers curl around you. Tightly pressed against his palm, you struggle and kick your feet while Megatron slowly draws you out into the open.

  “Let me go!” you shriek. “Stop! Please!”

  Megatron growls again and gives you a warning squeeze. “Fighting me will get you nowhere. Cease this at once, or suffer the consequences.”

  Well, that’s threatening. You immediately go limp and snap your mouth shut. Megatron snorts, satisfied. He brings you closer to his face, studying you. You shrink back, flush with panic and terror.

  “What is your name, human?” he rumbles.

  You stutter out a barely coherent reply. “Y-Y-Y/N.”

  “Y/N.” He repeats it to himself. “Y/N…a fitting name. Tell me, have we ever met before?”

  “I…I d-don’t believe so?” you say.

  “Hm.” He regards you, turning his hand left and right so he can examine you from all angles. “How very interesting.”

  “W-What’s interesting?”

  “Your mark.” He pushes his thumb under your left forearm. “It’s gone.”

  You follow his gaze. Indeed, where your thread should have been-the thread that has been with you for your entire life, a presence in which you believed would never leave you-there is only bare skin. There isn’t a speck of red to be seen. The burning that accompanied it before is gone too, and now there is a sort of settlement weighing on your chest. It is an instinctive rush of fulfillment, like this was meant to happen.

  You feel faint. Nothing makes sense anymore when you look back at the robot. “You…You're my soulmate?” you squeak.

  “Soulmate.” Megatron stretches the word out into a slow drawl. “So that’s what your species calls it. Yes, you can say that. My kind has a similar phenomenon that affects us.” He opens his mouth and breathes in deeply. “You smell of fear. I can see in your eyes that you know me. So this city is aware of who I am, hm?”

  You don’t dare answer. You're way too terrified of how close his massive teeth are to you. You don’t want to think about what might happen if you find yourself between them.

  “There is no need to be afraid of me. Our sparks are linked. I would be killing a piece of myself if I were to eliminate you.” He sighs. “As disappointed as I am to discover that my sparkmate is a human, I can learn to work with it. I wish to know more about you, Y/N. I will know why fate tied us.”

  “I need to know more.”

  “What makes you so different?”

  “Foolish little thing, you cannot get away from me.”

  “I will get to the bottom of this.”

  His thoughts are loud and overwhelming. You shake your head and feel tears gather in your eyes. “Please…It’s too much. Your thoughts-”

  “Ah. Is that primitive brain of your overloading? I can hear it. Don’t think your thoughts aren’t in my head as well.” He rises to his full height. “I am sure we will both learn to get used to it. If not, I will have Shockwave create something that will bar my thoughts from entering your mind.”

  “Wait! Wait!” You look down. The ground is far away from you. Everything sways queasily when Megatron begins to walk. “No! Put me down!”

  “If you vomit on me, I will not hesitate to drop you,” the Decepticon says gratingly.

  “Y-You can’t take me with you!” you yell at him. “I can’t be your soulmate! There has to be a mistake!”

  “The spark doesn’t lie. Your mark is gone, and I can feel the completion you bring me. There is no question that you are my Other Half. What I want to know is why.” He shakes his head angrily. “It is a burden to have such a weak creature by my side. But I will learn to understand. Perhaps you can show me the few strengths humans possess. Do you think you can convince me to spare your race, little one?”

  He’s taking you. He’s not letting you go. You feel faint with horror at the realization that you aren’t getting out of this. Whether you believe it or not, this alien robot is your soulmate.

  You’ve gotten exactly what you wanted. But this isn’t how you thought meeting your Other Half would go.

  You hear one last thought from Megatron echo ominously in your mind. It sends shivers down your spine. “You are mine now.”

  After that, you pass out.

[brabblesblog]

I hope you die screaming.

One-shot, angst/comfort, astarion/f!tav

After you refuse to help Astarion ascend, he leaves you with a venomous goodbye. Unfortunately the vampire has to come back to get his things.

The idea was to mix up the warding bond rings, Astarion’s final words if you refuse to help him, and Tav suffering and dying (not permanently!) in his absence.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

It had been a miserable few days of being alone in Baldur’s Gate, without most of his possessions, but Astarion was loathe to go back to the Elfsong. For one, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d be there to do. To grab his things and go? A possibility, but not what he would rather do. To get on his knees and ask you to take him back? What he really wanted to do, but the chance of you forgiving him was slim, and he couldn’t face that rejection. So he stayed near the tavern, torn between showing himself and walking away yet again, when the ring on his finger pulsed with a strange magic and the ward protecting him dissipated from his body.

He had known you were still protecting him through the paired rings even as he stormed out of Cazador’s palace. The soft, pleasant feeling of the ward had not disappeared at all, and it had proven quite useful once or twice when he inadvertently offended someone enough for them to attempt to stab him. He didn’t get a lot of injuries - only minor cuts and scrapes - so as much as he felt guilty he figured you would be more than capable of handling it. In any case, should you want, you could just take off the rings, he reasoned.

So when the ward fell away right now, he huffed a bit and took the ring off. You must’ve finally remembered he had the other one, and there was no longer any point protecting him, after everything.

After what he said.

He entered the tavern and sat in a corner, waiting for your group to come back. He’d decided to come get his things. Without the ward’s protection, he would need his potions and armor to survive solo.

Soon enough, the door burst open and Gale came stumbling in. The gore and blood on his robes was normal enough, but his expression wasn’t. The man looked ashen and pale, and he immediately ran to the stairs. “Shadowheart! Come here. Now!”

Before the vampire could even put down the goblet he was holding, Halsin came in, something bundled in his arms. The air that wafted through hit Astarion, and he almost choked on it: blood. Your blood. A lot of it. He watched with wide eyes as Halsin carried the bloody bundle in his arms. It was a body, that much was obvious, but they had wrapped it in blankets. The fabric was stained everywhere, but it pooled the most where the chest would be. Halsin dipped his head and gently placed a kiss on the head of the body, and as he did so the blanket covering the face fell away. Astarion’s heart, if he still had one, would have stopped as he saw the face underneath the blankets. Yours.

He immediately stood up, heading towards Halsin. The larger elf saw him and let him approach, his expression one of sorrow.

“Halsin? What- is she…” he closes the distance. Your eyes are closed, as if you were sleeping. He knows it, knows he can’t hear your heartbeat and can’t see you breathe, but he still reaches out to cup your cheek. Cold, as cold as his hands were. He chokes back a scream that threatens to bubble from his throat.

Halsin moves, slowly climbing the stairs. “Come, Astarion. I shall explain.” As he made his way to your bed, he talked. “She hasn’t been well since your departure, but that is to be expected. We had a fight with the Steel Watch. She was a little too slow, too tired, and they won.”

Astarion growls. “You should all have protected her! Did you all cower when-“

“No.” Halsin rounds on him, eyes glinting with what was almost like anger. “We all have our injuries. We all tried our best. We weren’t the ones who left her.”

He laid you down on your bed, grabbing a wet cloth to clean your wounds. Astarion gripped the elf’s wrist. “Why aren’t you using a scroll to revive her?!”

He sighed. “You might not remember, Astarion, but the scrolls were all in your bag when you left.”

Shit. He had forgotten. He quickly rummaged through it, finding one. He saw Shadowheart approach and asked her for some healing potions as well. While everyone was preparing, Halsin kept cleaning your body up. Astarion scowled and grabbed his own wet towel, gently trying to clean around the hole in your chest. He winced at the amount of blood he saw as he tried to peel off the bloody shirt, then paused as he realized it was his camp shirt. Biting back the urge to scream, he kept working.

Shadowheart came back with several bottles of the potion, and they got to work. Halsin used the scroll, and as he did the vampire began pouring the potions down your throat. It didn’t take long for him to hear your heart start to beat again, and he exhaled roughly as he poured more bottles, just to be sure. He watched the color flood back into your face as you healed, unable to stop some tears from falling.

A hand gripped his shoulder and he turned to see Gale. The wizard sighed. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he said dryly. “Seems like you got your wish,” he said bitterly, gesturing to you.

Astarion bared his fangs and got up, ready to tear him from limb to limb. Halsin barely had enough time to stand between the two men. “There is no point to fighting each other. What’s done is done. And she’s doing better now.”

Gale sighed. He nodded at Halsin, then at Astarion. “I suppose the druid is right. You’ll still have some explaining to do, but it can wait.” He leaves to see Shadowheart to tend to his own injuries. After a moment, so does Halsin, squeezing Astarion’s hand in solidarity as he left.

Astarion continues his ministrations, weeping openly now that no one was here. He leaned forward, kissing your forehead. When you were clean, he puts you in your nightclothes, then wraps you up in his blankets. It doesn’t escape his notice that you’ve moved into his bed, his things still there, as though you were waiting for his return. He sleeps there that night, wraps himself around you, the sound of your soft breathing something he sorely missed.

You wake up a few hours later. Your head pounds, but when you open your eyes, it is blessedly dark. The last thing you remember was a steel watch monstrosity’s blade coming straight through you. You take a breath, nuzzling the blankets. They still smell like him, and you worry that soon the smell will fade. Then there would be nothing left of the man you loved. Well, other than his clothes-

Wait. His clothes. You run a hand down your chest, wincing at the movement. You realize you’re in your own camp clothes. It must’ve been torn in the fight, ruined by the gore. A soft cry escapes your lips. It felt all too much like losing him again. You whimper, helpless. Every movement was pain, but the most painful thing even now was your heart.

You suddenly realize you’re not alone on the bed. An arm sweeps across, wrapping securely around your waist. Someone nuzzles you, shushing your cries. In the darkness you can barely see, but the scent and the temperature of said arm hits you.

“As-Astarion?”

He swallows nervously. “Darling. I… I’m here.” He can see your face in the dark, eyes wide and afraid, and then a glimmer of hope as you realize who he is.

“You came back,” you manage to croak out. Your hand finds his, and he squeezes it tightly.

“I did. I-“ the happiness in your face stuns him. You should hate him. He doesn’t deserve to be welcomed back with such open arms.

“I was in the Elfsong to gather my things.” Before you could get the wrong idea and get hurt, he pushes on. “But I think I knew even as I walked in I’d be here to beg you to let me stay.”

“There’s no need to even ask, love.” Your hand moves to his hand, feeling for the ring. It isn’t there, and you feel a small pang of sadness. “You took it off.”

“Only today,” he says. “The wards fell. I thought you got rid of it, but your ring is still on your finger. I guess it just stopped working when you-“ he swallows past the lump in his thoat. “You- you know.” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Noticing his distress, you move your other hand to cup his cheek. “I’m sorry you had to see this. I got clumsy. I was… I wasn’t at my best.” You look away, embarrassed to admit how much you missed him.

“Darling. No,” he turns your cheek to meet his gaze. “I left you. I broke your heart. All because I was too afraid to see the right path to take. And I wished… I said terrible things. I would take it back, all of it back. I regretted it as soon as I left the dungeons. But I didn’t think you’d let me back in. If I stayed, maybe you’d be alright. You’d be-“

His words are broken by soft lips that press against his. It was tender, and he couldn’t help but lean into it, kissing back carefully and gently. More tears fell from him, and you thumbed them away. Pulling back, you offer him a kind smile. “I forgave you as you left, love. I get it. It’s just that I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too.” With those words Astarion finally breaks down, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He didn’t deserve such tenderness, such love, after what he did. He vowed to do better with your heart, to give what you deserve as well. Not for any other reason than that he wanted to.

He meets your eyes, and he finally lets the words that had been sitting in his chest for ages out. “I love you. I have loved you for a while, darling, I just didn’t know how. I’m not good at this, obviously. I choose the wrong words, do the wrong things, and you still let me back in.”

You chuckle a bit, hands carding through his hair. “That’s because I love you too, idiot.”

You’ve told him that for some time now, accepting that he couldn’t say the same yet. But every time you say it his heart still soars. He captures your lips in yet another kiss.

“Forgive me?”

“Of course. You’ll have to put your ring back on, though. Maybe when I’m more healed, on second thought.”

You bite your lip, frowning.

“Oh. And I might have ruined your camp shirt. Could you fix it for me? Please?”

He puts on a show of pouting and sighing. “If I must. What would you do without me, hm?”

You roll your eyes and tug him close to you. All too quickly, you drift off, finally having a good night’s rest. He watches your face become peaceful, noting the huge bags under your eyes.

Astarion holds you through the night, vowing to never leave your side ever again.

[planetaryupscaled]

The Bet

Male OC x Tzuyu

Tags: 1k, smut

The story is not ours; we simply alter the original story to our preferred settings.

Tzuyu was sitting in the deserted communal lounge, her face buried in a book. She wasn’t, technically, hiding. That would have gone against the rules.

She was just getting some alone time without all those hands running aimlessly over her body, fingertips trailing her figure and peering beneath her garments, lips and teeth caressing and nibbling every inch of her skin...

Her cheeks flushed, and she felt scorching hot in the oversized sweatshirt she was wearing. She bit her lip and sighed.

The words on the page she had been reading and re-reading for the last ten minutes without really understanding the meaning blurred, as she became engrossed in her thoughts once more, still puzzled as to how she had gotten up in that situation.

A shy, prudish, inexperienced freshman like her was playing with fire. Or worse, with the rampaging hormones of a bunch of college boys.

She made a lighthearted, drunken mistake, but she was paying its price with her body and no end in sight.

Betting with her buddies while inebriated sounded innocuous, and she was confident it wasn’t anything they were going to follow up on anyhow.

But she was wrong - dreadfully wrong.

It was all a game in her eyes. And she was pretty sure she was going to win at the time. But she lost, and the guys eagerly demanded their prize.

She had turned into a real-life sex doll for them: she had to let them touch her body, grab, and grope her as they liked, and offer herself whenever they wanted.

This was her retribution for being so irresponsible and stupid. Worst of all, she was beginning to like it, even though she would never say it out loud.

She had been feeling so dirty and depraved. Tzuyu had only had one previous boyfriend, her high school beau, and she’d never experienced sex or pleasure.

And now, whenever a hand reached for her, a small bolt of electricity would rip through her body, giving her shivers and stealing her breath. Being forcefully exposed in front of others was humiliating, but it gave her sensations she had never expected to feel.

Even though the guilt and shame were eating at her, her body was sending her new signals and feelings that she had never experienced before.

She was drawn sharply back to reality when she was pulled back by her hair.

Electricity coursed through her as she saw two dark eyes upside down, mischievously staring at her.

“Did you plan on staying hidden for much longer? We were worried by your sudden disappearance...” Hyeon inquired, keeping her head tilted and caressing her throat.

His fingertips were ice cold, but her skin felt like it was burning under his touch.

“I had to study. You know, exams...” she mumbled, while he played with the sweatshirt zip, loosening it. His hand crept under, reaching for the bra.

Hyeon cupped his hand around her breast and began massaging it. He let her hair go and did the same with the other hand.

“I see,” he said quietly, “then go ahead and read. I’ll help myself.”

Her vision blurred when he gently pinched and twisted her nipples. She was embarrassed by who she had become, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop it. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to put a stop to it.

Tzuyu sighed as she felt a twitch in her womb. She closed her eyes and leaned against Hyeon’s body, allowing him easier access to her. Against her neck, she could feel already the bulge in his pants.

She blushed again, both from her thoughts and from his gentle touch on her skin. She could feel she was getting wet.

Hyeon drew his hands away from her sweatshirt after what seemed like an eternity. As he leaned over her, he reached for her skirt. He unceremoniously lifted it, revealing her underwear. He slid the fabric to the side, A light touch on her labia made her moan.

“You’re such a slut Tzuyu, you’re already wet...” he chuckled as he gently stroked her.

He pushed two fingers into her warmth, provoking her another moan. She held her breath and widened her eyes as she grabbed his wrist with both hands.

Jisung and Suho were sitting on the desk on both her sides; she hadn’t noticed their presence. They were stroking their erections through their shorts while enjoying the little show.

They laughed as she violently blushed and tried to cover herself. Jisung smiled, bending over to grab her cheeks and kiss her, pushing his tongue into her mouth and sucking her lips.

“Come on baby, stand up,” Hyeon said, pulling his fingers out of her and grabbing her arms.

He pushed her against the desk, ignoring her weak protests and whining. Her hair covered her face completely, blocking her view. She could hear the other two guys unzipping their shorts and the light clank of their belts hitting the ground.

Several hands caressed her skin and lifted her clothes to reveal her body. Someone took her wrists and pressed them against her back.

As fingers grabbed the hem of her undies and pulled them off, she bit her lower lip and held her breath.

A hand caressed and squeezed her buttocks, followed by a slap. As she tried to wiggle out from underneath the guy who was blocking her, she was hit with a harder slap that took her breath away.

“Stop squirming or you’ll hurt yourself,” Jisung said, pulling her head up by her hair. Her gaze met his as she groaned beneath his hands. He kissed her once more, firmly holding her head. While Jisung’s tongue was playing with hers, someone gently rubbed his sex on hers. He pushed his way through her soaked labia and inside. Her moans got lost in Jisung’s mouth, which was still devouring her lips.

The third person let go of her wrists and grabbed one of her hands, pressing it against his erection.

Tzuyu noticed it was Suho masturbating with her hand. She gave in to his grip, wrapping her fingers around his hardness and letting him guide her. Jisung let her mouth and head go, and Hyeon grabbed her by the hair, pushing his length deep into her.

Jisung then kneeled on the desk and presented her with his member, stroking it on her cheek, and lips. She disclosed them and welcomed him, clasping her semi-closed eyes in his as he entered her warm mouth slowly. Hyeon’s tight grip on her head guided her rhythm as her tongue twisted around his girth.

It was the first time they pulled something like that on her, she had never been taken by more than one person at the same time.

Tzuyu thoughts were clouded by pleasure.

With each thrust in her mouth or sex, electricity scurried through her entire body. Her desperate, rising moans were suffocated in her mouth.

Hyeon let go of her hair, which was replaced by Jisung’s grip, and groaning sank his fingers into the soft skin of her hips.

She tilted her head, her senses dulled and inebriated, as they both went faster and deeper. Shivers ran down her spine, and a tingling warmth propagated through her like wild, uncontrollable waves.

Hyeon came into her depths and collapsed on her back. His skin was warm and sweaty, his breathing heavy.

Then it was Jisung’s turn, who came into her mouth, pressing her head against his groin while his throbs slowed and he softened, slipping off her lips.

Suho let go of her hand and rushed for her.

He rolled her over, moved her to the edge of the desk, and positioned himself directly above her head.

Then bent over her and plunged his erection into her mouth.

Tzuyu grasped his thighs, overwhelmed, her mind empty of all but bliss.

One of the guys parted her legs and buried his face in her, holding on to her knees.

Two hands completely unzipped her sweatshirt and reached for her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples.

She was totally helpless, which really just heightened her arousal. Her body was stiffening and twitching as tension built up within her.

The guy eating her, bit her labia, ascending to the clit, then circled it with his tongue, first gently caressing it, then with frantic strokes that left her screaming and squirming under his mouth. He firmly gripped her thighs, lapping and sucking her and pushing her over the edge.

When she thought she couldn’t bear it any longer, he slid two fingers into her, moving them slowly.

Her orgasm burst violently, her back arched, and every inch of her body shivered, pervaded by a tickling ecstasy that released her tension.

Suho came soon after, filling her mouth once again.

She stopped shaking after a good minute or two. She could feel her heart rate lowering, but she kept her eyes closed.

She was feeling warm and fuzzy. She didn’t want to face yet the actuality of what had just occurred.

The three guys were busy pulling up their pants and composing themselves.

to meet the three pleased stares. Tzuyu quickly shut her legs and tried to put back her hoodie, embarrassed.

Jisung seized her hands and held her back.

“Don’t bother covering, cutie; no one else is here. Even if that were the case, anyone would have adored the show.” He reached for her mouth and kissed her.

“When is this prize thing going to end?” she sighed, as she sat on the desk.

“Oh, you don’t like it?” Suho joked as he buckled his belt. “ You seemed to be having a good time two minutes ago.”

She blushed again, looking away.

“It will end when we unanimously decide that the payback for the lost bet is adequate, obviously. And I’m sure tonight at least a couple of gentlemen will be interested in discussing with you what just happened, so don’t go and hide again,” Hyeon added.

He gave her a wry grin and a nonchalant nod before heading out of the room, followed by Jisung and Suho.

Tzuyu was alone again.

The sun had begun to set, and the communal lounge was getting darker.

She retrieved her underwear and put it on.

Her mind was a whirlwind of feelings and thoughts. She was heated and out of breath. She couldn’t understand why she would enjoy the whole bet and prize thing; it was so wicked and dirty. It wasn’t like her, to do things like this, but she couldn’t bring herself to end it.

Tzuyu knew she could demand they stop at any point, and if they refused, she could simply go talk to the student representative. They’d be in big trouble.

But perhaps she just didn’t want it to stop.

She sat at the desk, her head buried in the soft sleeves, until it was completely dark, with just the streetlamps from outside shedding some light on the walls through the large windows.

She took a deep breath and smiled, wondering who would be the first to take her that evening.

[sicutpuella]

I’ll Wait | Simon “Ghost” Riley 4.8k words

“Is there nothing I can do to stop you?” Her eyes were downcast; the room was dark, only moonlight streaming through the windows. It was silent, like the whole world paused, except for the two of them.

He paused, a lit cigarette between his crooked fingers. Smoke curled from his lips, a haze in the moonlight. An exhale, "No." The single word hung in the air heavier than the smoke. She looked again at the already-organized tactical gear on her floor. It was a mocking reminder of what will be taken away from her.

“It’s a suicide mission, can’t they have someone else in exchange for you?” There was anger, pain, and betrayal all at once.

"There is no one else to send," he replied, his voice cold and firm. He took a drag on the cigarette, the tip burning a deep red before fading into the darkness. "Besides, there's no one better suited for this than me."

“But you could die!”

The words hung in the air, a silent echo of the unspoken fears between them. The room felt colder, the moonlight harsher. She fought back tears, her heart heavy with the weight of impending loss.

His eyes flickered, the tiniest crack in his stoic facade. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just watching her, before finally responding in a low voice. "I know."

She blinked. And one. And another. And a tear.

He pushed himself off the wall and moved closer to her. Taking another draw from the cigarette, he took a moment to exhale before speaking. "Don't... cry." The words were said softly, almost a plea.

She took the deepest inhale, trying to preserve his scent in her memory as long as possible.

“Why you?”

He paused for a beat, his gaze lingering on her face before looking away. He dropped the cigarette into an ashtray before answering. "I'm expendable."

"No, you’re not… no, you’re not…" she shook her head repeatedly, tears falling with each movement.

He closed the distance between them, taking her face in his hands. "Stop crying." His thumbs wiped away her tears, his touch surprisingly delicate for a man who was so rough and cold.

He exhaled a shaky breath, his eyes never leaving her face. "This... this mission. It's the only way." He paused, as if debating whether to say more. "And... they're right. I am expendable."

"You don’t get to say that, Simon! You don’t!" She bit her lip, stopping a scream.

His grip on her face tightened almost imperceptibly, his eyes dark as he looked at her. "Then what else am I supposed to say?!" His voice was edged with irritation, and a hint of something that almost sounded like pain.

She didn’t know either. This was out of their control; she was still a civilian with no knowledge about this.

She just stared at him, feeling the weight of the impending loss pressing down on her chest, the agony of knowing he was slipping away.

She took another breath, fanning herself. She could feel her throat constrict, her heart breaking with every single beat.

He exhaled deeply, the sound a mixture of irritation and frustration. Loosening his grip on her face, his fingers gently cupped her chin. "Don't look at me like that."

He held her gaze for a moment before sighing deeply, his thumb caressing her cheek. “Stop thinking the worst. I’m coming back, you hear me?” His voice was firm, almost commanding.

But deep down, even he knew it was a lie. Simon had read the report a hundred times.

A subtle tension gripped his jaw; a flicker of doubt danced in his eyes. He knew the truth. The report was a death sentence. Yet he spoke with confidence, "I've done this a thousand times before. I'll be fine."

His words were meant to reassure her, but hesitation lingered in his voice. Changing the subject abruptly, he shifted his gaze to the floor. "I... I have something for you. It's in the bedroom."

"Huh?"

Releasing her face, he gestured toward the bedroom door. "Wait here."

He turned and disappeared into the dimly lit bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. She remained limp on the couch, her limbs refusing to move.

Rummaging through a drawer, he searched for something. Moonlight filtered through the window as he returned moments later, holding a small velvet box.

"Sit up," he instructed gently as he settled beside her on the couch, the box cradled in his hands. He waited for her to comply.

With effort, she nodded and sat upright.

He nodded in approval, extending the box toward her. "Open it."

Watching her closely, his eyes flickered between her face and the box.

Carefully, she opened the box, her voice rough as she spoke, "A necklace..."

He grunted in confirmation. "It's a locket," he gruffly replied, observing as she lifted the delicate silver locket from its velvet nest. "Open it," he urged softly.

He waited, watching her every move, as she opened the locket. Inside was a tiny photo—a picture of both of them during one of their beach days. He spoke quietly, "For you to... have something to remind you of me."

And all the emotions flooded her body again; every memory, every pain, every joy—the looming feeling of his permanent departure. She fell to her knees.

He moved quickly, his body tensing as she collapsed. He knelt down next to her, his hands gently guiding her onto his lap. "Hey, hey... don't cry," he said softly. His fingers tangled in her hair, and he tucked her head under his chin.

He held her there for a moment, letting her cry into his chest, his body shielding her from everything else in the world. His voice was low, "I hate seeing you cry..."

Despite his tough exterior, there was a hint of vulnerability in his voice. He continued to hold her, his hand gently rubbing circles on her back, a comforting gesture to soothe her tears.

She was screaming, wailing…

He winced at the sound of her screams and wails, his arms tightening around her. He hated seeing her like this, so helpless and vulnerable. He felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was the cause of her pain. "Shhh…" He tried to soothe her, his voice rough with concern. "Calm down…"

He rocked her gently, his body trying to provide her any semblance of comfort. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry." He repeated the words over and over again, like a mantra, hoping that they would be enough to ease her pain.

“Please come back to me…”

He inhaled sharply at her words, the weight of her plea hitting him like a punch to the gut. He held her closer, his fingers digging into her skin as he spoke. "I will." His voice was firm, resolute. "I promised you, didn't I? I'll come back."

But there was that doubt in his voice. He knew it. It was a contract for death. But he couldn’t show his weakness. He can’t.

His arms tightened around her again, holding her so closely that it seemed as if he was trying to physically keep her from falling apart. His eyes darted around the room, avoiding her gaze, as he continued to speak. "I've been in worse situations. This is nothing. Trust me."

It was an attempt at reassuring her, but the waver in his voice betrayed him. He was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince her. He knew the risks, the odds, and the high possibility that he may not return alive.

He had spent the last month ensuring she would be well taken care of if he dies—bank statements, account and estate transfers.

He continued, his voice growing more ragged with each word, "I've been through hell and back, and I always come out alive. This is no different." He forced a laugh, trying to sound nonchalant, but it came out as a bitter, mirthless sound.

He gently pulled her face up, forcing her to look at him. His eyes met hers, his gaze intense and raw. "You have to trust me. I'll come back." He repeated the words with conviction, as if saying it enough times would turn it into truth.

But he knew he wouldn’t. That’s why he put her on his will. But she’ll only find out about it if he dies.

He could see the doubt in her eyes, but he chose to ignore it. He pushed her head back down onto his chest, his hand resuming the gentle stroking motion on her back. "I won't die," he said firmly, even though he knew it was a lie. "Not after everything we've been through. Not after all the fights, the laughter, the joy. I'm coming back, and we're going to have a life together. Just you wait."

“We just got married last year…” she weeps.

He clenched his jaw, his grip on her tightening almost imperceptibly. "I know," he said, his voice hoarse. He inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling heavily as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "I... I didn't plan on this mission, you know that."

"It just... fell into my lap and I couldn't say no…" He tried to justify himself, his voice trailing off, the weight of the truth sinking in. He had made a deal with the devil, and now he was paying the price, with his life.

"But I'll come back," he repeated the words like a mantra, forcing confidence into his voice that he didn't feel. His chest ached at the thought of leaving her behind, of not being able to fulfill all the promises he had made to her.

"Please... you have to... we have to have a family... please Simon! Please!" She was in agony, tortured by the pain tearing through her.

His body tensed at her words, fingers digging into her skin. He struggled to maintain control, the weight of her pleas tugging at his heartstrings. "Don't you think I want that?" he snapped, frustration and guilt boiling over. "Don't you think I want to come back, build a life with you, have a family, grow old together?"

He released a shaky breath, his voice thick with emotion. "But... this isn't about what I want. It's about what I have to do." The bitterness of duty hung heavy in his words, stark against his attempts to reassure her with love.

“Duty above all.”

He chuckled bitterly. "Always…" he murmured, eyes softening as he saw the raw pain etched on her face. Cupping her cheek, his fingertips traced over her tear-stained skin. "I never wanted to hurt you. You know that, right?"

He memorized her face, every contour, every line—a desperate attempt to sear her into his memory. He wanted her to be the last thing he saw when he closed his eyes forever.

Studying her face, he committed every detail to memory. The curl of her eyelashes, the curve of her nose, the softness of her lips under his touch. His fingers moved delicately, tracing the path of her tears, the slope of her neck. He lingered on her pulse, feeling its steady rhythm.

He knew he was trying to capture her essence, to preserve every sensation so he'd never forget. He wished he could freeze time, keep this closeness for eternity.

She wept...

She memorized his face too, hands gently cradling his cheeks. They sat on the mahogany floor, sharing a moment of tender intimacy.

His eyes closed as her hands explored his face, feeling her warmth, her tenderness. He opened his eyes, meeting her gaze with a mix of pain and something deeper, unspoken. He struggled to contain his own fear and grief.

"I’ll never love again."

He grunted, pain seeping from his lips. Pulling her close, he wrapped his arms around her protectively. "Don't say that," he gruffly replied, his voice thick with emotion. "Don't."

“I’ll never love again if it’s not you.”

Pressing his lips to her hair, he breathed her in deeply. "You have to," he whispered, voice raw. "You have to move on. Find someone else, live your life. Don't waste it pining after me."

“No… you don’t understand!” She pounded on his chest.

He grunted as she struck him, holding her tightly. "Stop it," he commanded firmly, trying to restrain her, though she resisted.

Looking down at her, frustration and pain etched on his face, he pleaded, "Damn it, you have to listen to me. You can't give up on living because of me. I won't let you!"

"I love you... losing you would be killing me too!"

He clenched his jaw, her words slicing through him like a blade. "I know," he said, his voice hoarse. "I know, but you have to survive. You have to keep going. You can't just die with me."

"I’ll never love another. I can’t. I can’t."

He growled in frustration, his body tensing as he held her. "You have to. You have to try."

He saw the determination in her eyes—the unyielding refusal to even consider loving anyone else. He wanted to shake her, to make her understand, but he knew it would be futile. She was too strong-willed; too loyal; too damn stubborn.

She shook her head. "Then I’ll be your widow forever."

A strangled sound escaped him, somewhere between a laugh and a cry. "Goddammit, you're driving me insane," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "You can't do that. You can't just spend the rest of your life mourning me. That's not fair to you."

"And even if I did try—I’d feel like I was cheating on you!"

"You can't think like that," he said, his voice hoarse. "You can't think that finding someone else is cheating on me. That's not how it works."

"I know you’d do the same. That if I die, you won’t love anyone else—you told me that! Why can’t I do the same?" Her voice was filled with frustration and pain.

He gritted his teeth, the truth of her words hitting him hard. He had told her that, and he had meant it. He wouldn't be able to love anyone else if she was gone. But the idea of her staying alone, mourning him for the rest of her life... it was unbearable.

"It's different for me," he said, his voice tight with emotion.

"How?"

He let out a heavy breath, struggling to find the words. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice laced with frustration. "It just is. I don't... I don't want you to be alone. I want you to be happy, to live your life, to find someone who will love you the way you deserve to be loved."

Slap!

"You don’t tell me that—you don’t tell me to give up on you. You don’t tell me to forget you."

His head snapped to the side with the force of her slap. The sound echoed through the room, followed by a silence that was deafening.

He turned back to face her, his jaw clenched, a red mark starting to show on his cheek. "You're being ridiculous," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm not telling you to forget me. I'm telling you to carry on. To live your life."

"My life started the day I met you."

He closed his eyes, her words feeling like a punch to the gut. He knew that she was speaking the truth; their lives were inexorably intertwined—they had become each other's reason for existing.

He opened his eyes again, looking at her, his gaze intense and raw. "Don't make this harder than it already is," he said, his voice gruff. "Please."

"You're my husband... I can't just..."

He reached out, cupping her face gently in his hands. He looked at her, his eyes full of pain and turmoil. "You have to," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have to be strong, love."

"Please come back. I'll pray to the Lord every day..." she pleaded.

He clenched his jaw, his heart twisting at her words. He wanted nothing more than to promise her that he would come back, that he would survive and return to her. But he knew he couldn't. He couldn't make false promises, not to her. He had to be honest, even if it hurt.

"Don't pray for me," he said, his voice hoarse. "Pray for yourself. Pray for a good life."

"And a good life is a life with you."

He clenched his jaw, his eyes shutting tight as her words hit him like a ton of bricks. He knew she was right; his presence in her life would bring her happiness and fulfillment. But he also knew that he couldn’t give her that. He couldn’t give her the life she deserved, the life they had both envisioned.

His hands tightened around her face, his grip gentle yet firm. "You need to let go," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You need to let me go."

"I WON'T! I WON'T! I WON'T!" She was screaming, her head shaking in every direction, tears falling like a relentless storm.

He pulled her gently towards him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly against his chest. Her screams and tears cut through him like a knife, each one a reminder of the pain he was causing her.

He buried his face in her hair, his breathing ragged. "Please," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "Please, don’t make this harder."

He held her, letting her cry and scream into his chest, his own heart breaking with every tear she shed. He wanted to comfort her, to take away her pain, but he knew there was nothing he could do.

He pressed his lips against her hair, his own eyes filling with tears. "You have to be strong," he repeated, his voice hoarse. "You have to be strong without me."

"I love you… more than anything… never doubt that."

He pulled back slightly, lifting her chin so that she was looking at him. His eyes searched hers, trying to commit her face to memory again.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice failed him. All he could do was look at her, his chest tightening with emotion. It was like looking at a piece of his soul, a part of himself that he would be leaving behind.

"I love you," he forced the words out, his voice thick with emotion. "More than life itself."

"I’ll wait for you."

He let out a shaky breath, his chest tightening at her words. Part of him wanted to believe that she would wait for him, that she would hold onto the hope that he would come back to her.

But another part of him knew that it was hopeless. The odds were stacked against him, and the likelihood of him surviving this mission was slim. He didn’t want her to waste her life waiting for him, hoping for something that would probably never happen.

"You can’t," he said, his voice rough. "You have to move on."

Her grip tightened on him; her voice was trembling. "I can't... I don't know how to live without you."

"You’ll learn," he whispered, his own tears falling now. "You’ll find a way. You’re stronger than you think."

"I don’t want to be strong," she cried, her voice breaking. "I want you."

He closed his eyes, the pain in his chest almost unbearable. "I know," he said softly. "I want you too... more than anything. But sometimes, wanting isn't enough."

She clung to him, her sobs wracking her body. He held her tightly, as if trying to hold onto every moment they had left.

"I’ll always be with you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "In your heart. In your memories."

"That’s not enough," she sobbed. "I need you here, with me."

"I know," he said, his own voice breaking. "I know. But you have to promise me... promise me you'll live. Promise me you'll try to be happy."

"Then I'll wait in death." She held her ground.

His eyes widened, a mix of shock and pain flitting through his gaze. He hadn't expected her to say that, to make such a declaration.

He gripped her wrists, his eyes fixated on her, a mixture of emotions warring inside him. He wanted to protest, to tell her that she was being ridiculous, that she shouldn't even think about such a thing. But deep down, a part of him also wanted to believe that this was how much she loved him.

"You can't..." he said, his voice strangled.

"I'll tell death I'll wait for you."

He clenched his jaw, his hands tightening around her wrists. He wanted to shake her, to make her understand the foolishness of her words, but he knew it would be futile.

Her conviction, the determination in her voice, it both filled him with a sense of pride and also terrified him. He didn’t want her to give up on her life for him, but her love and devotion were unwavering.

"Don’t say things like that," he croaked, his voice thick with emotion.

She was stubborn; if she wanted something—hell would freeze before she bent her will.

"Why? You don’t want to—"

He cut her off, his eyes flashing with anger and determination. "Of course I don't want to!" he snapped, his voice strained. "I don't want you to spend your life waiting for me, holding on to the hope that I'll come back. It's pointless, goddamnit."

Her face fell back—all that pain, despair, and agony in full display on her beautiful face.

He saw her face fall, saw the devastation etched on her features, and his heart broke. He knew he was causing her pain, that his words were cutting through her like a knife, but he couldn't stop.

"You don’t understand," he said, his voice rough. "You don’t understand what it means for me to leave you. To know that I might never come back. It’s not fair for me to ask you to wait for me."

"I AM YOUR WIFE! I swore to you—we swore to each other, to God, to everyone that we’d love each other through it all!"

His eyes flashed with emotion as she yelled at him, her words hitting him like a physical blow. Yes, they had promised each other, vowed to love each other through everything, through life and death.

But in that moment, it seemed like a cruel promise, a promise that he was breaking. He couldn’t bring himself to lie to her, to give her false hope that he would make it back to her.

He took her shoulders in his hands, his gaze intense and pained. "You think I don't know that?" he said, his voice hoarse. "You think I haven't spent every waking moment regretting the fact that I have to leave you behind? You think I don't wish things were different? That I'm not tearing myself apart with the thought of leaving you?"

He let out a heavy breath, his grip on her shoulders tightening. He needed her to understand, to see the turmoil he was going through, the struggle between love and duty. "But I have to do this," he said, his voice gruff. "I have to go, and I can’t ask you to wait for me. I can’t bear the thought of you spending your life in wait, in limbo, when you could be living it to the fullest."

"I will live, yes… but I’ll never… love… anyone again…" she kissed him deeply, pouring all her love into every kiss.

He kissed her back, his body responding to hers as it always did. The passion and intensity in their kiss spoke volumes of the love they had for each other—a love that was so deep it felt like an endless well.

But even as he kissed her, even as he allowed himself to get lost in the moment, he knew that he had to pull away. He had to bring them back to reality, to the painful truth that he was leaving her behind.

He forced himself to break the kiss, to pull away from her even as every fiber in his being screamed at him to hold her tighter. He looked at her, his eyes full of pain and love, and he knew he had to say what he needed to say.

"You're young," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "You have your whole life ahead of you. You can't just give up on love because of me."

"You gave me forever, even if… it’s for a limited time. And… and I’ll hold onto that forever all my life."

He closed his eyes, her words cutting through him like a knife. He wanted to fight against her words, to tell her that she should move on, that she deserves more than just the memories of their time together.

But he also knew that it was futile, that her love and loyalty were unwavering. He had given her forever in the short time they had together, and she was going to hold onto that forever.

He opened his eyes again, looking at her, his heart in his throat. "You deserve more than that," he choked out, his voice rough.

He struggled with the words, wanting to say something, to make her understand. But everything he wanted to say seemed like a weak attempt at comfort. He took a deep breath, his hands still holding her shoulders.

"You're young and beautiful," he said, his voice gravelly. "You have your whole life ahead of you. There’s bound to be someone out there for you. Someone who can give you the life you deserve."

"Only you, Simon. Only you. Forever it’ll always be you."

5 months later. A knock.

She stumbled out of bed, her heart pounding in her chest as she staggered to the front door. She knew who it was; deep down she knew, and the thought both scared and excited her.

But when she opened the door—

The most agonizing, painful, piercing scream.

An older uniformed gentleman stood there, holding the UK flag and a pressed uniform.

The sight of him on her doorstep, holding that flag and uniform, sent a wave of dread and sorrow crashing through her. She knew what this meant; even before he spoke a word, she knew.

The scream that escaped her lips was primal, a guttural sound of grief and despair. She stumbled backward, her hand going to her mouth as tears streamed down her face.

The older gentleman had a sympathetic look on his face, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and understanding. He extended the flag towards her, his voice quiet as he spoke. "I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am."

She fell to her knees, the weight of his words crushing her. The world seemed to blur around her; the colors fading into a dull, lifeless grey. Her fingers trembled as they reached out to touch the flag, the symbol of his sacrifice; the finality of his absence.

Memories flooded her mind—his laugh, his touch, his whispered promises. She clung to the flag, her body shaking with sobs that seemed to come from the very depths of her soul. Every moment they had shared, every kiss, every tear, every laugh—it all felt like a cruel reminder of what she had lost; what she would never get back.

The gentleman stood there silently, giving her the space to grieve; the space to process the unbearable reality. She looked up at him through tear-blurred eyes, searching for some sign that this was a mistake; that this wasn't happening. But his solemn expression told her everything she needed to know.

"How?" she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. "How did he...?"

"He was brave," the gentleman said softly. "He saved us all. He was a hero."

Hero. The word felt hollow; meaningless. He was her hero, but that didn’t bring him back. It didn’t fill the gaping hole in her heart; the emptiness that he left her. It didn’t mean fucking shit if he was a hero. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t here with her. No amount of compensation, medal of valor could bring him back.

She clutched the flag tighter, her fingers digging into the fabric as if she could somehow pull him back through sheer force of will. The older gentleman remained silent, his presence a stark reminder of the finality of it all.  

She wanted to scream, to rage against the universe for taking him away from her; to demand answers from a god who seemed indifferent to her suffering. But no answers came. The universe remained silent; her questions echoing into the void. She stood there, clutching the flag, feeling the weight of her grief pressing down on her; a suffocating blanket she couldn’t escape.

“And i’ll wait in death.”

[xeeljii]

IM YR DOG

I am here to be yours I don't want you to hurt

WARNING! Explicit RPF! 

Summary: Joost hasn’t been in a real relationship in a long while and when his first anniversary with you rolls around he fucks up royally. 

Word count: 7,4k

CW: 18+, f! reader, no pronouns used for reader, angst but happy ending, established relationship, make up sex, premature ejaculation is romantic lol, multiple orgasms, shower sex.

IMPORTANT A/N! I usually write with an older/current age Joost in mind but this one feels more early 20s type so just keep that in mind. 

Joost was finishing up his album, it was chaos and you had almost not seen each other in the week, texting sparingly and only ever feeling his presence when you got back from work and saw more of his clothes had disappeared and new ones appeared in the hamper, it was a storm brewing with both of you blissfully unaware. He hadn’t been sleeping much or at all, totally engrossed in his work, he gives you shit about your dedication to yours but he is the real workaholic, once he gets an idea can't stop until it is finished, even forgetting to eat or what day it is. Speaking of days, today was Saturday, also your anniversary. He had a reservation for a table at your favorite restaurant, had already planned every step of the day and the evening months ahead, like it was the world cup final and yet today of all days he didn’t text you at all. You assume that he must be in the studio finishing up something, and you would just meet up at the restaurant at six like you had planned. 

However his brain was completely fried, overworked to exhaustion, the blinds of the studio pulled down to concentrate and phone thrown around somewhere in silence because he just NEEDED to get this las song done. He doesn’t know when the last time he had a proper meal was or what time of the day it was but when he finishes the song that had been driving him crazy for three days straight he feels he can final breath in relief. The tension in the studio had been palpable for a few days now but when he yells “Done!” triumphantly everyone feels at ease again.

“I think I need a drink or a few.” Someone suggests and everyone follows with jovial moods. 

Joost is so tired but just wants to let loose for what feels like the first time in forever. The group ends up at someone’s house, alcohol starts being poured and the music is loud enough to deafen, someone’s neighbors will complain surely but right now as Joost sits on the couch finally able to not think about the album anymore he couldn’t care less. He just relaxes, drinks and smokes like it is his last night on earth and laughs with his friends until his stomach hurts.  

You on the other side are sitting alone in a fancy restaurant table. You stay there far longer than you should, you text him and try to call him insistently but no luck. Did he get in accident? After an hour you start getting scared and desperate but don’t want to move in case he actually comes. You are a beautiful statue of nerves and anxiety glued to the table dumbly waiting for someone who isn’t coming. By the second hour you check your phone again, no reply but then you open instagram and see someone had posted a picture with his recognizable figure on the background, on closer inspection you can see cans of beer thrown around and bottles of liquor decorating every corner of the place. You feel as if a cold bucket of water has been dropped on your head. Your palms start sweating, you are holding onto the phone painfully thigh, you feel like everyone is watching you, like every couple in the restaurant is judging you and feeling pity for how stupid you are. You can’t stand it anymore and you stand from the table as gracefully as you can, feeling cold anger burn inside you, you pay for your drinks and get a taxi home. You are silently fuming and can’t stop the angry tears from falling from your eyes that you are wiping away furiously with your trembling hands.

Right after you enter your shared apartment and kick off your shoes you hear the door open again, there are heavy steps almost stumbling up to the living room before he sees you.

“Hi liefde.” He is smiling so widely, oblivious to your inner turmoil and just happy to see you in what has been way too long, he tries walking up to you but you move out of his way quickly.

You notice the stumble on his step and the smell reaches you, he is completely wasted. He tries to get his balance again resting his elbow on the kitchen counter and looking up at you. He wolf whistles or does his best attempt at it in the state he is in.

“You look so are pretty schat, did you have dinner with your friends?” His eyes are unfocused and half lidded it all makes to enrage you even more.

“I don’t know Joost, did you have drinks with yours?” You say venom dripping from every word and if he wasn't so intoxicated maybe he would notice, but instead he replies happily. 

“Yeah! We finished the album!” He tries to grab hold of you and pull you into a hug but again you avoid him, shaking the grab of his hand from your wrist.

“You reek.” You say walking away from him to get a glass of water.

He is a little confused now but he has missed you so much he just wants a little kiss. “Yeah sorry.” he smiles sheepishly rubbing a hand through his messy hair but you don’t even look up, your back facing him. 

“Liefde~” he purrs, his arms reach at your hips from behind, he pulls himself closer, wraps his strong arms around your middle and rest his head against the top of yours. “I missed you baby.” You don’t reply, don’t move at all, it is like you are barely breathing.

His brain is trying to catch up with what is happening, you would usually do something to hold him back, rest your hands against his or at least hum in acknowledgment if you are busy, but now in his arms it feels like he is holding at a cold marble statue. He is starting to panic a little, trying to remember something he did wrong and coming on empty handed. He waits a long moment before opening his mouth again.

“Wait did I forget to empty the dishwasher?” He asks timidly.

Unbelievable, he doesn’t even know it, doesn’t even remember, you had spent hours getting ready for a guy who stood you up to go drinking and doesn’t even know. You feel so stupid, in a second start second guessing every moment of your relationship, every tender word, every decision that got you to this place.

“I don’t know Joost, if it is so unimportant then maybe it isn’t worth your worry.” You reply almost in a whisper, your voice cracks in the last part.

You are angry but even more you are sad, you feel dumb and out of place in his life, all the little insecurities you had been carrying around come back with a vengeance to kick you when you are down. You doubt of the place you even have in his heart, the embrace of his arms feels fake rather than welcoming and you just push him away to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling.

You feel tears start to form at your waterline again, your heart feels heavy and you can barely breath in. You start to walk away. 

When he fells you step away from his arms a cold fear goes straight up his spine. “Baby…” He calls out, panic clear in his tone.

You turn on your feet, defeated faced covered in tears. “It was our anniversary” You say, looking at him.

He looks paralyzed for a second and then you see the exact moment the words make sense in his head. “I didn’t-I forgot- we were gonna go to that place - oh fuck liefde.” He is stumbling all over his words, he makes a move to reach you but you lash out again, he has no right to be acting like this when he was the on that left you all alone.

“I was alone in that restaurant for hours! I kept texting and calling you like an idiot thinking you would show up thinking oh he wouldn’t forget me here, right? Everyone was looking at me like I am dumb and maybe I fucking am because why am I even with someone who can’t be bother to show up and instead goes get fucking wasted on OUR ANNIVERSARY!” Your throat feels raw with every word, you are screaming on his face, the anger and sadness boil into something vicious you want to hurt him, want to make him feel the same way you felt, it is an awful thing that you can’t stop.

“I am sorry liefde, please.”

You can’t stand to see his face right now, turn around and start walking to the bedroom. You want to get undressed quickly, get out of the stupid clothes he bought you and the stupid lingerie you had bought to match them, you wanted to surprise him but he ended up being the one to surprise you in the worst way possible. You feel so pathetic and small it is making you start to itch.

“Baby please look at me.” He keeps walking quickly behind you, doesn’t know what to say or what to do that will make you feel better “I will make it up to you, I promise.” He grabs at your wrist but you quickly pull away again almost painfully. 

“Oh you promise? Well we have both have seen how much you care about your promises.” Your sarcastic tone cuts right through his heart. He looks hurt by that. 

He is not used to anniversaries or birthdays or really keeping track of the year on events, he goes with the flow of things and that is exactly what you like about him but now it feels like he just doesn’t care about you and that thought is scary, it makes you feel completely unimportant like the old kettle on his kitchen or the forgotten old clothes at the back of the closet, it makes you mean.

“Schat, please, let's talk.” Every pet name feels like another slap.

It is your first anniversary together, he had been so excited, he wanted to make you happy and yet here you were angry and hurt all because of him, he didn’t want you to remember your first like this and all of a sudden he worries this would be the only anniversary he would get with you.

“Shut the fuck up! I don’t want to hear you, I don’t want to see you right now. Go sleep on the couch or get out and go drinking I don’t give a fuck, just leave me alone!”  You walk quickly into your shared room that right now feels like prison and close the door with a loud bang after you. 

The shared apartment that is usually filled with music and laughter is now in complete silence, it feels cold and empty, the air is thick with tension and the only sounds are of the clock on the wall that you had bought and the dripping from the faucet on the kitchen that he had forgotten to fix. He stands in the middle of the living room unable to move, he wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to beat himself up for being so useless, wants to crawl on hands and knees and plead with you, but above all else he feels so guilty. He can’t get the image of your sad face from out of his head and this time it is all his fault. He never wants to hurt you, only wants to be the cause of your happiness. Maybe he really is not made to be in a relationship like some people had warned him, maybe even worse he doesn’t deserve it.

Inside the room you undress quickly and throw everything into the hamper. You change into your pajamas, usually you like to wear his clothes to sleep, his familiar smell makes you more relaxed but now you can’t deal with it. You throw yourself on the shared bed and cry silently against the pillows, they smell just like him it only adds fuel to the fire. You can’t stop yourself you feel the world crumbling around you and there is no exit, no one that will come save you and the only person who would you don’t even know if you matter to him at all.

After what feels like hours you must have become exhausted from your own crying and fallen into deep slumber. 

You wake up in the early hours of the morning, your throat feels painfully dry, your head hurts, your eyes feel heavy but now you are too tired to cry anymore. You feel something at the end of the bed, you raise on your elbow and look down, there he is, the bastard, at the foot of your bed like a kicked puppy. He must have wormed his way in the room at some point during the night while you slept and fallen sleep still on his clothes. He looks so pale, you realize there are deep dark circles under his eyes and it pains your heart even in the middle of all this fighting. He has one cold hand holding lightly at your calf under the covers, so pathetic. You want to kick him, watch him tumble from the bed, but still he is your bastard, no? 

You are still angry and you have no intentions of playing nice after what he just pulled on you, you hit him lightly with your foot and then harder when he doesn’t wake up. Finally groggily and confused he raises his head and immediately looks for your face in the dark of the early morning.

“I told you I wanted to sleep alone.” You say with a cold tone.

“Sorry, I missed you.” He says sniffling softly and rubbing at his eyes, you can tell from how red they are that he had been crying too.  “Can we talk please?” He says now sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“I don’t know. Are you still drunk?” You throw back harsh words at him, he regrets it, really does, he truly forgot, not that it makes it okay but the thought of you sitting waiting for him all alone in a restaurant for hours breaks his heart.

“I am really very sorry.” You don't reply and just cross your arms over your chest. “I totally forgot and I know it is not an excuse, we just finished the new song and we wanted to celebrate, it slipped my mind then I lost track of time, I had no idea it was already Saturday.” He looks up at you expectantly. 

“Well I’m happy you had fun!” It comes with more bite than perhaps you want it but still there is tension bubbling inside you. 

“Liefde…” He sounds pleading. 

You bite at your lip before speaking to keep in a pathetic little sound, you don’t want to start crying again so you swallow down harshly. “You really hurt me Joost.”

You hate saying those words, you hate the way his face breaks at them, but it is the truth and that hurts the most.

He starts crawling up the bed softly, slowly like a scared animal, as if you were going to push him away again. “I know, and I cannot apologize enough.” He still has his hand on your calf rubbing slow circles on your skin more to calm himself down than anything, you liked his little habit of fidgeting with his hands when he was nervous but now it is a painful reminder of everything that has happened. “I know I can’t make up for it right now but I really do love you, I love you so much and I am so sorry for hurting you I never wanted-“ his voice cracks, tears had started falling from his deep blue eyes at some point his voice sounds wet and strained, he sniffles trying to compose himself. “I really love you, I don't want to lose you”.

Your eyebrows knit in worry, you hate that he even thought that he would. “You won’t.”

You grab at his hand in your leg, and stroke lightly over it, you are gonna be okay, maybe not right now, maybe it will take some time to rebuild but it is okay, you are gonna give yourself and him the chance, it is going to be okay in the end or it is not the end. 

He allows himself to cry at that, unhurriedly like he can finally breath again. He goes to place a kiss on your knee, looks up through wet eyelashes, you pull at him to sit up, he follows easily and when you pull your hand away he wants to chase it but doesn’t want to try his luck too much. You lay softly against the pillows before you open you arms motioning for him to come over, he does so quick that he almost crushes into you, whispering little I’m sorries against the crook of your neck, kissing softly at the warm skin so his love can reach you. You let him, you feel his soft sniffles against your skin, his cheeks, his whole face, is wet with tears, you run your fingers through soft strands of golden hair, you have cried enough for today and it feels the first time you can truly breath easy. With him in your arms you feel at peace again. You let him cry as he wishes and just caress his back through it until he calms down. 

After a long while you think he might have fallen asleep on you but then he speaks up almost in a whisper. “I really do love you so much.”

You pull at his shirt gently so he will meet your eyes “I love you too Joost, always” You kiss him softly it taste salty but comforting, it taste like him, like home. 

You continue to kiss softly like you are kissing for the first time again, it feels good and soothing to your heart, he kisses you like he wants to melt into you, you know he loves you as you do. You still want to tease him a bit though, so you pull back and whisper an inch against his lips. 

“You know I bought a new lingerie set.” He perks up immediately, you shake your head, “Already took it off, since my boyfriend stood me up and all that.” You scrunch your nose for emphasis, he immediately pouts he can’t belive on what he is missing for his own mistakes. 

“Liefde-” He starts to whine, you pinch at his cheeks.

“I was really looking forward to tonight.” You pout at him, he gets the hint immediately so in tune with you sometimes words are not needed.

“Can I at least make this up to you now?” He says big blue yes staring at you pleading while his hand goes to play with the band of your pajama shorts. 

“Make it worth my while” You smile at him. 

He crawls slowly over your body gently to not put any weight on you. You look up at him, eyes still a little heavy with sleep, a little red from crying, it makes his heart hurt uncomfortably in his chest. He goes to kiss at the high of your cheeks gently placing soft little pecks on your eyes on the tip of your nose until he finally reaches your lips. His first kiss is chaste a little nervous but you open your mouth for him so he starts moving more insistently, kissing you back, he pushes his tongue past your teeth caressing softly at the inside of your mouth. Your hands find the back of his neck and grab instinctively pulling him closer, his hands roam slowly down your body until he reaches the hem of your camisole, you nod against his kiss so he pulls it off you in quick motion before returning to your lips. He kisses along your jaw, leaves an open mouthed trail of kisses down to your neck, feels the lingering scent of your perfume, the one he got you while traveling, he licks at the column of your throat it sends your heart into overdrive. He kisses slowly on your collar bones, bites gently at the skin there while his hands rub sotting shapes at your waist where he is holding you.

He starts pressing big open mouthed kisses at the skin of your chest, reaches one hand to play with one of your soft mounds, slightly stimulating the sensitive skin of you nipple, you press against his touch so delicious and warm in the middle of the cold room. He is licking and sucking all over your tits but avoiding your most sensitive spot where you want him, your legs are rubbing together trying to get any friction going on your core. You grow tired of the teasing as much as he wants to take this slow you are impatient as ever. 

“Joost-“ you whine pushing your chest against his face, he is breathing right against the skin of your nipple but won’t move. 

“Yes baby?” He asks playing coy, how dare he tease you.

You press your breasts together pushing them towards his warm lips. “Please~” You say in a breathy whiny moan that has him twitching in his boxers.

He always sets out to take his time with you and loses that battle halfway through when you sound so needy, he can’t say no and much less now. He goes to lick over your nipple, the skin hardens at the contact he sucks gently first then harder moving his tongue on the tip while his hand plays with the other scratching softly with his nail at the pebbled skin. Kneads softly at the fat with his big hand then switches and repeats the process. He sucks at the perked bud, his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration trying to bring you as much pleasure as he can to show you all the love he feels.

He keeps his beautiful ministrations down your tender body until he reaches you navel, kisses at your belly softly then moves even further south, reaches with sweet hands to the hem of your pajama shorts, you nod at him with a lip trapped between your teeth. He pulls the last of your clothing off in a swift motion, you feel how wet you are, naked, fully to his mercy. He kisses softly down the mound between your legs leaving a sweet peck at your clit that has you mewling but you know when it comes to this, it is as much about you as it is about him, so you let him take his time to do as he pleases. He kisses the inside of your thighs, because you are his, because he can. Takes his sweet time feeling the soft skin there, then licks a stripe up your core, it makes you twitch against his mouth. He adds to the wetness with his spit, with two fingers he spreads you open to kiss deeper into you, you feel his tongue exploratory at your hole softly pushing against the wet muscle. 

“Yes like that” You keep giving little praises to keep him going, your hands go to his hair to keep him in place, as if that was even needed when between your thighs is his favorite place on earth. He could live like this eternally and be grateful. 

He sucks gently at your clit, feels how hard it is on his tongue, licks up and down toying with it, you push your hips up towards his face, he moves his hands to hold at your hips, you are trembling slightly, he moves his hands and grabs behind your thighs and pushes one up placing it behind his shoulders to give himself more room. 

“I’m so close Joost please don’t stop”. You say, he moans against your heat in response, it vibrates on every nerve, he is kissing and licking wildly into you like he is making out with your pussy rather than eating you out, it is too much you have too look away and yet the lascivious sounds he pulls from you fill the room.

He licks deeply into your cunt, into the deep sweetness, he fucks you with his tongue until you have tears rolling down your cheeks while his other hand presses soft but firm circles on your clit to bring you to an orgasm. You feel yourself unraveling quickly your hips pushing wildly against him while he continues to lick you through it, he feels your pussy twitch and clench on his tongue, he is so painfully hard at some point he started humping against the mattress to relieve tension, your sweet screams of pleasure are all the reward he wants. You pull on his hair so hard it hurts but he doesn’t separate even an inch from you while you ride your high trying to prolongate it as much as he can with soft licks to your core and deft fingers on your clit. 

When the stimulation gets too much you start running from the touch, he places soft kisses on your wet folds as you push away his head gently but he holds you by the hips, hugging around your lower half to keep you close. He rest his head against one of your thighs and looks up so blissful, all pussy drunk and sweet, chin and mouth still wet with your release. 

“Get naked, I want to feel you.” You say more as an order than a plea and he is up from the bed in a second. 

He is still wearing the clothes he wore when he came home, not like he could have changed into anything since you locked yourself in the bedroom. He has sobered up but he is still a little slow and uncoordinated. Your hands moves slowly down you chest pulling lightly at your nipples still wet from his spit, he starts tracking your movements with his eyes, swallows deeply. He pulls his shirt over his head and catches how your hand goes between your legs and start softly toying with your bundle of nerves looking up to him through heavy eyelids. He can’t pull his eyes away, can’t move and feels his throat close, this is the hottest thing he has seen in his life and he is short circuiting. You start rubbing harder building back up to the edge of your orgasm. 

“Quickly~” You moan incessantly rubbing at your clit, legs spread for his viewing pleasure and grabbing at your nipples with the other hand to give him a show and torture him a little more.

“Please have mercy on me, I’m gonna die.” He whines as he struggles dumbly to unbuckle his belt and fails.

“If I come before you are done I’m just going back to sleep.” You say with no real intention behind it, just to see him get more flustered, you like him like this all red and dumb, all for you. 

You moan loudly pushing two fingers inside your heat. At the threat he pulls his pants and boxers down in a quick motion almost falling when his ankles get tangled in the fabric and he falls back at the edge of the bed. You laugh at that, how desperate he is still for you, even a year in the wonder isn’t lost at all. He loves the sound of your carefree laughter is so grateful he gets to hear it even when it is at his expenses. 

“Good boy~” You almost purr. You spread your legs for him, letting him come near you slowly feeling the mattress dips at his weight but you put a hand in his stomach to stop him before he enters you. “You have to earn it.”

He is probably gonna cum without even putting it in, he has given up at this point, but he nods his head dutifully after the day he made you have and presses just his tip against your folds how you like it. You feel so hot under him and he is all but dripping over your core. He puts his hands at the back of your thighs pushing softly so you will give him more space, with your legs almost against your chest he sees the way you pussy flutters under his gaze almost like a flower, so wet and glistening for him. He starts rubbing softly against you lips making sure his tip presses generously against your clit every time he comes near it. You cunt is so pretty and shiny with your release, all for him, he can’t take his eyes away. He keeps moving rubbing against you as your hips try to match him to feel more of that delicious friction. 

Soon you are moaning again under him. “I’m close Joost, I want to feel you inside” You whisper sultry. 

He lets go of your thighs softly and pulls himself slowly up to kiss you, you kiss back without hesitation, tasting yourself in his tongue is so erotic. He lines up his erection with your entrance and starts pushing slowly into you. You are so pretty under him, your eyes shiny so brightly, your lips are red and there are tears falling from your eyes but this time they are from pleasure, he feels so fulfilled and lucky to be the one to have you like this it fills his heart so much he feels he will explode with love any second. He barely manages to push halfway into you before he feels a shot of electricity up his spine, his body collapses on top of yours, hips thrusting deeply into you as he comes without warning. 

“Sorry, sorry. Oh fuck! Sorry.” He says between little whimpers, his hips stutter softly into your heat and he can’t do anything to stop it.

You smile to yourself while you hold him in your arms caressing softly at the expanses of his back, your hands move down below reaching to grab at his ass and pull him closer, wrap your legs around his hips, so he is deeper as he rides the last of his high. You keep pressing little kisses to the side of his face that he is now hiding in the crook of your neck while he comes down. 

“I'm sorry liefde.” He says against the pillows, hugs you tighter still hiding his face, you press a kiss to the skin of his shoulder you can reach.

“It is okay, it is okay.” You say soothing him, you run your nails softly over the skin of his back. 

You cup his face with your hands and pull softly so you can see him, his skin is a deep shade of red, it is adorable, you kiss him softly, he deepens the kiss and you suck at his tongue and feel more of your taste than whatever he had been drinking or smoking, it feels like he really belongs to you. You feel his cock kick weakly inside your walls, his cum dripping down your thighs slowly. You pull away barely and then push at his shoulder softly. He is now laying on his back and you are on top of him, his cock still inside you now softening.

“Liefde I can’t-” He says almost worried but you bend down to kiss his forehead. 

“Just stay still a little longer I’m almost there.” You barely move on his lap, don’t want to torture him anymore. You just want to feel him inside when you reach your peak. You are rubbing at your clit firmly chasing after your own climax, you feel your walls spasm against him, he whimpers beneath you, his hands go to grab at you hips in delicious agony.

“You are so beautiful.” He is hypnotized by the way your chest moves when you breath, your beautiful features breaking into ecstasy, he catches the exact moment you come undone, he feels you clench around his soft dick almost tortuously tight.

“Joost!” You scream on top of him, he moans back feels you twitching all over him. 

“Schat I love you so much.” He speaks into the darkness.

This time it is you who collapses on the bed, he holds you close to his chest, caresses at your back until you can breath normally again, presses kisses to your hair whispering sweet nothing in your ear. 

You feel his release and yours wet your thighs, it feels too sticky to sleep in so you raise softly. 

“I wanna shower.” You say pressing a kiss to his jaw. 

He nods, pulls you off him with a wince, you feel so empty, your cunt clenching on nothing. He sits up on bed with you still sitting on his lap too tired to even attempt to move. He grabs at your thighs below your ass and pulls you up on his embrace like you are weightless, you wrap your legs around his middle and hold tightly at his neck as he carries you to the bathroom. He puts you down slowly making sure your shaky legs don’t betray you while he starts the shower then he lets you in before him and joins you right after. The water is warm you start cleaning yourself up slowly, the sadness of the day washes away down the drain you don’t want to think anymore about it. He rubs body wash on your back and washes it away with soft deft hands massaging at the clenched muscles of your neck, it feels so good to be taken care of. 

You start cleaning between your legs, softly with your fingers between your folds before you feel his arms wrap around your middle and pull you to his chest under the water stream.

“Let me.” he says, his hand much bigger than yours hovers between your legs until you nod. 

He pushes his fingers in you softly moving in and out, his other arm tightly wrapped around your stomach to keep you standing. You feel his release spill out of you, you have to hold your breath your arm reaches to hold at his forearm as he works his fingers deep into your heat, he starts pulling little moans out of your mouth, sometimes you feel he knows your body better than you do and in moments like this it feels true.

“Joost I thought you were just helping me clean up.” You whine, throwing your head back resting it agains his shoulder, he kisses at your hairline softly. 

“Should I stop?” He asks genuinely, you know he never pushes you further than you want to go but you shake your head negatively so he continues.

It feels so good, your cunt is so tired and overstimulated but he is being so soft, so patient, fingering deep inside, touching at the spongey spot that makes you melt over and over again, you don’t know if it is from how pent up you have been with his absence, when usually you go at it every day, or the rollercoaster of emotions of the night has made you so sensitive but you feel another orgasm building softly in your core. You feel he has become hard again, hot member pressing at the back of you body, it is like he can never get enough of you. You reach a hand back and start stroking him gently.

“It is okay” He says ever so tender with you, never wanting to hurt you or make it uncomfortable for you, he knows you are tired and spent but you look up at him, wet hair sticking to your pretty face. 

“I want you to feel good too.” You rub your ass against him to emphasize your words and make his will break. “Just be gentle.” you whisper, he bends down his neck so you can kiss him and you do so.

Your skin is so soapy and slimy, he thrust against you a couple of times, at the cleft between your asscheeks, his fingers are still deep in your cunt until he pulls away softly, you see your shiny release on his digits and it makes you blush. He grabs hold of your hips gently, holds himself in his hand then pushes into you slowly inch by inch but you are still so wet and warm there is no resistance just the fluttering feeling of your walls on his cock. 

There is nothing more delicious than the feeling of being so connected, so close you can melt into one, he stays there without moving for a long moment just feeling you around him listening to your soft breath and the running of the water.

“You can move.” You tell him softly reaching your arm above you to hold at the back of his neck. 

“Give me a second.” He says in a deep voice, he is trying to breath through his nose to calm down. 

You laugh to yourself slightly and then push back on his hard dick. His hands grip tighter on your hips trying to keep you still. 

“Scath, you are killing me.” He says smiling in disbelief. 

“Good.” You reply looking up at him. He shakes his head you before he moves. 

He starts fucking into you, deep slow thrust into your heat, then pulling out of you at excruciatingly slow pace, then pushing in again deep until he feels he can’t go further. You are moaning  into the hot air of the bathroom, he watches hypnotized as the little droplets of water slide all over your body, your pretty nipples hardened with lust standing against your chest begging for attention, he moves one of his hands up your chest and pulls slightly at the pebbled skin, you moan loudly and he feels you cunt clenching all over him. He starts moving faster, harder you hear the wet sound of skin against skin, feel him groaning against your ear, holding at the flesh of your hips so tight it is bound to leave a mark. He feels you softly tightening on him again and again, your breath becomes more labored but he wants to see your pretty face when you come, he is addicted to it, can’t get the same satisfaction if he misses it, so on a swift move he pulls out fully leaving you empty and confused before spinning you around, grabbing at your arms and placing them behind his neck. 

“Hold tight.” The only words he says before he grabs at the back of your thighs to lift you up, he presses you against the tile wall and with one hand pushes his cock inside you again. You gasp against his mouth.

With the new angle you feel him impossibly deeper in your core, you can barely breath, eyes wildly open with surprise. He starts bouncing you on his length his hands grabbing handfuls of your ass, moving you like you are impossibly light on his embrace.

“Ah too deep Joost!” You whine against his mouth as he kisses at the corner of your lips.

He smiles proudly at that. “Sorry schat, I only have one dick size” He says delighted.

“Idio-” Your insult melts into a high pitched moan when his dick hits right at your g-spot.“There, right there Joost more~” You mewl against his mouth.

The “be gentle” promise seems so lost when you can feel him so deep in you it should scare you. You are both worked up and eager to reach your peak again, he is kissing at your mouth more like shoving his tongue inside it, you can barely move your lips back, everything feels electric every nerve standing waiting for the drop. You hold with one hand at his neck and reach the other between your legs to rub fast circles on your poor clit. He is watching intently at the place where you connect, seeing himself disappear inside your heat and your hand wildly rubbing on yourself, he hears you whimper and whine his name, it is all so overstimulating and yet he feels he cannot get enough.

“Yes baby make yourself cum all over me.” He says in a deep groan, his voice sounds so labored and dripping with lust it send you over the edge, you clench around his length, walls pulsing all over him. 

You throw your head back in ecstasy, an orgasm that feel endless while he keeps fucking into you, continuing to chase his high with a few uncoordinated thrusts that have you whining from over stimulation. He cums deep inside you again, this time it knocks the wind out of your lungs his efforts to clean you up all but wasted now. You feel your heart and his beating wildly and the sound of strained breaths creating an unlikely symphony with the sound of the shower. 

After a long languid minute he still has you pressed against the wall held tightly on his arms, he is usually so clumsy when he has to get up early, all but tumbles into the shower. You swear one of this days he is gonna fall and hit his head on the sink, but with you on his arms he is so careful balancing you properly so you won’t slip from him. He finally raises his head from your chest but before places open mouthed kisses right where your heart should be, you meet him with a wet kiss on the lips, he slowly puts you down, his eyes seem so heavy like he will fall asleep any minute now.

“Lets finish off quickly.” You tell him he nods. 

You finish massaging body wash onto him, you feel how tense the muscles on his back are, more than you have ever felt, you feel a little bad for your earlier outburst, he had been working so hard what he did wasn’t right but you can tell he is truly sorry. You wash him off quickly and do the same for yourself.

You both come out of the shower, wrap in soft towels before he reaches for the hair dryer and turns it on. 

“Turn around.” He says his voice sounds so heavy you really fear he might just fall asleep right here and then you will have to somehow drag him to bed. 

But he doesn’t fall asleep, instead he starts gently blow drying your hair you feel so peaceful, finally, you let him work his fingers on your scalp, you look into the mirror ahead and see he is already looking at you, it makes you blush like when you wake up late and he is already up just staring at your face, no matter if you were drooling through the night he thinks you are so beautiful.

He places a soft kiss at the top of your crown before he speaks again “So…. About the lingerie?”

You knew this one was coming, you roll your eyes at him in the mirror “You don’t deserve to see it.” You say quickly avoiding his eyes where he will see you are not serious at all.

He pouts, it is so cute, you will let him see of course, but not now, he has to earn it again or he won’t learn, you need to stop treating him like a dog too, probably, maybe… 

“Can I ask again another time?” He turns off the blow dryer and rests it in the counter.

You walk out the bathroom and he follows right behind. “Perhaps…if you are well behaved.” You look behind your shoulder and wink at him he smiles brightly back at you, if the torture you will put him through to let him see you on the lingerie set is even half as delicious as what he just went through then he is already looking forward to it. 

You throw the towel on a chair he does the same then you climb on bed lifting the comforter so he will just slip in. He does and then pulls you against his chest resting your head right below his chin. You will fall asleep in his arms, wake up in the late afternoon maybe order take out and talk it out, and you will talk anything out as many times as it takes because he is worth it, because both of you are, no matter how hard things get being together is worth it. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

MASTERLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚ A/N: this ended up being really long oops anyways thank u for reading to the end if u did let me know if you liked it <3  ps. this was based on a suggestion ty for that :>

[flevoiruna]

𓂃 ˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀𓂃𓈒 ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴍɪɴᴇ 𓈒𓂃⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖

𖥔 ͙ࣳ 𓂃ˑ ֗ ˖⋆⑅ ᴄʜʀɪꜱᴛᴍᴀꜱ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ⑅⋆˖ ֗ˑ𓂃 ͙ࣳ𖥔

✿ ⋆.ೃ࿔:･ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴅɢᴇʜᴏɢ x [ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ] ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

: ̗̀➛ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀʟʏ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴇꜱᴄᴀʟᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ A ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴍɪꜱᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ.

: ̗̀➛ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ[ꜱ]: none ˖ . ݁ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི

: ̗̀➛ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.1𝚔

➹ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀꜱ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛꜱ: ᴍɪᴋᴇʏᴋᴜɴꜱ, ʙᴇʀɴᴀʀᴅʙᴇɴᴅʏꜱᴛʀᴀᴡꜱ | edited | AO3 Ver. | Mobian Reader

The bitter coldness of the evening bit at your furs. The warm lights shone through the delicate mist of the night. It was that time of the year where people rejoice on the eve of christmas. Folks passed, some of them had their hands intertwined chatting on with their lives. Romance floated strong and thick across the atmosphere, unfading. 

The touch of sadness roamed your heart in circles, loneliness greeting you like the autumn’s fall bequeathed by the winter’s chill. Here you sat on the bench alone, shivering in your boots. Shadow had gone and never came back. You supposed that this whole date set up took a toll on his patience and probably headed home. Shadow was not the one to engage in such activities but..a moment between you under the romantic occasion wouldn’t hurt to experience just for once. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have persuaded him with this. You might have forced him to go with you out of his will. The guilt jabbed at your heart like a needle. How could you have been so dense? Of course Shadow was not the one to blend into some pointless dates! Now you must have made him mad or ruined his mood. 

Your fingers screwed through the fabrics of your dress and bit your inner lip as your gaze lowered. Dozens of negative thoughts rammed through your head as you sunk into the depths of it. Too lost at detesting yourself, someone had approached you and called your name, unnoticed by you. Until they knelt before your level and tapped gently at your cheek. Surprised by the unwelcome gesture, you snapped away from your trance and was tugged back into reality. Your head lifted right up and your eyes met with familiar red ones you’ve been longing to gaze on the entire evening, donned in a brown coat with a red scarf wrapped around his neck to keep him warm. 

“Shadow?” His name fell onto your lips before you knew it. How you missed him. It took you great restraint from jumping to him and hugging him tight, never wanting him to disappear from your sight ever again. Yet, Shadow was not the one who is accustomed to physical contacts. If forcing him to engage with you unwillingly on this date was not bad enough, then you should start to refrain yourself from now on. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, your voice almost failing you as if you were about to break any second, casting your eyes downwards again. “This date was a bad idea and I shouldn’t have forced you to go with me,” you failed to see the crease of the dark hedgehog’s expression as you continued to ramble out. “I’m  sorry on making you go even though I knew that you’re not used on this kind of things I just..” you pause for a second, needing a moment of reprieve by the heavy weight on your chest, your ears flattening against your head as a look of pure sadness painted your complexion. “I just wanted to spend time with you..” your voice drops, barely above a whisper. 

And it was followed by silence, receiving no answer from the black hedgehog himself. This caused an anxiety to stir inside your chest, thinking you might have made his mood sour that it’s already been. He might think that you were being  too ‘clingy’ for his liking. Were you acting rather persistent than you  realised? What if he decided to leave you  after this?

You heard Shadow give out a sigh, light and soft. One of your ears flicks at the sound. 

“How did you come to that conclusion?” Shadow finally spoke, his voice calm and steady. “You didn’t force me into anything,” he stated and raised a hand to show a cup he’s been holding in his hand, “I bought a coffee in the nearby shop here. Didn’t I tell you that?” 

Coffee? 

You look back up again and see the cup in the black hedgehog’s gloved hand. “The temperature had gone way lower than it probably should. I figured a hot beverage would keep you warm for the time being.” 

The sadness that once enveloped you was now replaced by a delicate flow of confounded relief. Did he really.. “You’re not mad?” you ask him quietly. 

Shadow raised a brow, your question bemusing him. “Why would I be?” 

You meet his eyes, his red irises boring deep into yours. Pleasant warmth creeped up into your neck and climbed towards your face, spreading the heat throughout your furs. 

“I thought you were getting annoyed by all this. Spending your time with me and dragging you throughout this place. You were suddenly gone and I couldn’t find you anywhere,” you meekly explained to him as a tiny smog wisps out from your lips from the winter’s air. 

A faint gleam surfaces from Shadow’s red eyes, barely visible that you failed to catch it. “I wasn’t,” he says as he took a moment to look around the wintry place; people with friends, family, and even the lovers passing by. He studied them as if figuring out if this is how they bond with each other when seasons like this occur. “This is all new to me. It didn’t sit right with me at first to be in this place, to be associated with many people since I am accustomed to solitude for a long time. However,” Shadow returned his gaze to you and you swore that you saw a glimpse of underlying crumble of the pensive, stern demeanor that hardened him, to a frontage display of vulnerability that resided deep somewhere in his heart. 

“..If it’s with you, then I’m willing to try and allow myself to adapt in this conforming world of yours. If that would cost me to see the look of joy of contentment in your face.” he professes, straightforwardly, his deep voice wreathed in pure and distilled sincerity that even it could quell the flame’s scorching disaster. 

You stared at him wide-eyed, flabbergasted, lost at words. Your heart raced against your ribcage as it ached to burst out. There was a constant tingle in your nerves, a tickle to your bloodstream, and a strew of downy sensation mending through your furs. Did Shadow always sound this daring and upfront? Or does he have a way of picking his words?

Either way, with each time that passes by, the longer you know him, the more you discover a part of him that you never expected to see. He was a man who was shrouded in obscurity, hard to decipher what runs inside his thoughts. 

Flame burned the surface of your face and covered it  with your gloved hands, embarrassment taking over you. Yet, the wagging of your fluffy tail from behind betrayed your concealment. Shadow caught the motion and the corner of his lips quirks into a small smirk, amused. 

“I thought you’d left me,” you murmur behind your hand, unable to look Shadow in the eye. At this rate, you were surely convinced that there were steams coming out of your now reddened ears. Then, a hand came to your wrist and gently pulled it away from your face. “I would never leave you here alone. You were probably too focused on watching the performer a while ago that you were unable to hear what I told you.” 

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment as you recalled Shadow telling you something while you were watching the performer do his tricks to entertain people. What an oblivious girl you were. “I’m sorry..”

“None of that,” Shadow replies and gestured the cup towards you, offering for you to take it. “Here, drink it before it gets cold.”

You look at him bashfully for another seconds before you softly smile, touched by his genteel gesture and took the cup from him. 

Shadow then got up from his knee and sat on the bench beside you. You blew the airy steam of your caffeine before taking a small sip, a calming relief flooding your senses as the liquid flows through you. While you were sipping on your coffee, a warm sensation was felt around your neck and you turned your head to see Shadow wrapping his red scarf around you.

“It’s getting colder out here,” he says to you while he worked his hands on the red scarf until it was loosely secured enough to give room for you to breathe and ensured it wouldn’t come off.  

Tingles of bubbly sensation formed in your guts. The scent of him wafted from the soft cotton on your neck, your fingers coming to gingerly caress the fabric on her skin. “Thank you, Shadow.”

Under the tranquility of the winter eve, the chill of the breeze went on and blew through the atmosphere in its tender currents. In the midst of the stillness, a group of people appeared carrying various instruments. They worked on arranging and organizing their equipment until they were all prepared to play a ballad for the crowd. 

The song starts in a delicate strum of violin, resonating throughout the atmosphere. Then it was followed by a soft hum of brass, coupled along with the piano and trumpet, until it formed into a lovely continuous play of the ballad, adding more charm to the winter’s eve. People were starting to take interest at the song; gathering around in two or more as joyous chatters and laughs left them as a mirthful aura spreaded across the area. Some of them started to sway along, dancing leisurely to their heart’s content with their lovers or friends while the children played and ran around.

“How lovely,” you mutter in awe, watching as the scene unfolds through your eyes. Shadow was watching as well, observing the way people interact with each other, how they were in sync with the song as they laughed in merriment to the delightful hour. 

“Do you want to join them?” 

Your eyes flickered to him, astonishment written all over your face, lips parted. Shadow, the Ultimate Lifeform, asking you to join along the people who are dancing? The world must be healing itself. 

“Do you mean to ask me for a dance?” You question, wanting to make sure if Shadow’s invitation is purely honest. Your tail ruffles lightly behind as you anticipate his answer. 

The black hedgehog shifts on his seat and teared his eyes from you, adjusting his scarf around his neck. That was odd, his neck felt warmer than usual and tight for some reason. “Maybe, I am.” He answers without looking at you. 

You blinked as you gazed at him. If there were things you knew about Shadow, he is good in nature, selfless, someone who cares for people but doesn’t know how to express it. And by so, he puts an effort to understand those around him, noticing the little things that they like, seeing through them, and most importantly protecting them from harm in the only way he knows how. In the image of a tough exterior to cover his weakness, concealing his true self that still lingered within him since the day of the tragic fate that had befallen him and took away the girl he cherished the most. 

Somewhere in him, there was still that innocent boy trapped inside him, longing to find where he belonged, someone he can call home, someone to hold him and shield him away from all the perils that seek to pursue him.

Not wanting to wait for long enough, you gave him an answer, “I would love to, Shadow,” a soft, tender smile bloomed across your youthful face, bearing that resemblance of a flower blossoming into a full bloom in its vibrant color. 

Shadow returned his gaze to you, his sanguine eyes boring into yours. His expression was unreadable, but not unreadable enough for you to perceive the faint spark that lingered in his sharp-red eyes before quickly vanishing. 

“That’s settled, then,” he states before standing up from his seat and offering you a hand. You took it and he gently pulled you up to his feet. He asks you if you already drank all of your coffee and you answer him with a ‘yes’ before he takes the empty cup and throws it away at the nearby trash can, not missing the target.

And so the two pairs went on their way to join the little crowd that continued to waltz the night away. Shadow was ahead of you, guiding your way where you both would situate yourselves among the people. His hand felt hot against yours. The hands that were used to destroy anything that imposes threat – a stark contrast of how he was holding your hand like a fragile glass, as if he was afraid to break it.

It didn’t take long for them to find their place. The engaging ballad stayed roaming free across the area in a beautiful trail of melody, whispering songs in the cold air. You faced one another. Your heart skipped a beat, nervousness claiming your being. 

To dance with a partner requires holding together as one. 

Your cheeks burned at the thought. Shadow, as if sensing your feelings, took the initiative action and grabbed one of your hands to hold it with his while he rested the other on his shoulder, leading them both to sway along with the people. A soft gasp escaped your lips, taken aback, your heart jumping inside your chest. The feeling intensified when the firm yet warm sensation of his hand held the side of your waist, then the mesmerizing image of his red eyes scribbled in restrained emotions, their rims glinting as if they told a million words yet remained unspoken. 

“Is this everything that you hoped for?” Shadow utters under his breath, staring deeply into your eyes. You hold his gaze, and find yourself being trapped in. There was always something in his voice that comforted you, though deep but strangely captivating. You softly smiled at him and nodded. 

“It is,” you answer, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Out of the corner of Shadow’s lips, it curled into a small smile. Something he rarely shows to people he’s fond of. “Let’s make this a little more livelier, shall we?” 

You look at him with curiosity. Before you can ask him what he meant by his words, Shadow suddenly lets go of your waist and uses the hand that was still locked in yours to twirl you around. A high-pitched startled noise left you, clearly not expecting for Shadow to do such a lively gesture yet he did. And since when did he learn the concept of dancing?

You weren’t able to grasp what his next move would be, because you were suddenly swept off the ground, high in the air with two strong hands holding your waist and spun you around in a quick circle. You let out another noise, higher this time and a little louder, then followed by an enthusiastic laughter. You felt the ground on your feet again as you were carefully placed down back to Shadow’s arms.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” you asked breathlessly as you panted, your hands coming to hold onto his shoulders and rested your head against it. Your heart was palpitating fast. 

“I have my ways,” Shadow simply answers, as he envelops his arms around you back to steady your wobbly figure. 

You gave out an airy chuckle, still breathless from your recent activity. After all this time, Shadow never ceases to surprise you, uncovering yet another newfound part of him that existed. You pull your head away from his shoulder to look at him, a soft satisfied smile gracing your features. You locked eyes again. 

You’ve never been this close to each other. 

Your noses almost touched, bodies wrapped into one another with no gap left to separate you and him. It took a few moments for them to realize the angle they were in before the awareness struck in. Both of the pair’s eyes widened and quickly adjusted themselves, resuming back to their previous stance. Shadow cleared his throat and looked to the side, while you were trying your best to recollect your  jumbled thoughts of what just occurred, trying to calm your beating heart down. 

“Are you enjoying yourself so far?” Shadow asked, cutting the awkwardness that passed over them a while ago. 

Your heart had already  simmered down and finally recollected yourself, beaming a smile at him. “Of course, I am. Very so!”

Shadow’s expression softened at your words, far from the usual stern face he shows at all times. He didn’t say anything after that. 

The winterly night went on. The number of people became fewer as they went on ahead in their lives, their enjoyment throughout the evening already spent. The musicians stayed as they continued to perform their song, seemingly lost in their own world, filling the area with a sea of ambience.  

The cold air grew more potent as time passed by. But that coldness didn’t seem to trouble the two pairs, the warmth of their bodies preventing the chill to seep into their furs. 

“Hey, Shadow,” You called quietly to the black hedgehog to which he responded with a hum. “Did I ever mention that your eyes are pretty?” 

Shadow’s ear twitched as his left brow arched, intrigued. “My eyes?” 

“Mm-hm,” you smiled gingerly, her lids creasing as your irises twinkled in fondness. “I always love looking at them. It reminds me of the times when I would look at the red sky and watch as the sun slowly lowers from the horizon while I admire it from afar. It’s truly beautiful to see, just like yours.” 

Shadow’s eyes expanded, a shift in his demeanor as his lips parted. There was a speck of vulnerability that danced in the rims of his irises. But then it soon disappears and a look of disdain loomed over him and darted his eyes away. 

“You shouldn’t think of such sentimental thoughts. You overvalue your perceptions towards me. You know where I came from don’t you? What I’m created of?” his voice lowers, the tone cold as ice and sharp as a knife.

Both of them ceased their movements as mild tension hung between them. Sadness fell into you as your chest tightened. How quickly his demeanor has changed; earlier he was warming up to you as he appeared to be in a lighter mood and now, it immediately faded. The delicate look on his red eyes, she wanted to see them again. 

Shadow’s expression was strained, as if he’s relieving a horrible memory, how the self-loathe rekindles in him, despising his existence. You felt his hand tensed against yours. Whatever he was feeling right now, it’s taking a dreadful turn on his mood. 

“Hey,” you softly implore him and ever so gently, you unlatch your hand that holded him and place it on his cheek and carefully tilt it to meet your gaze. “You told me that story before, right?” you utter to him, reminiscing the time where he hesitated to tell you of his origins, how he was created, and his previous life at the Ark. It’s as if he didn’t want you to know whose blood that runs in him, and how he almost destroyed the Earth once out of hatred and revenge against humanity.

It took a second for Shadow to answer before he nodded. Your thumb fondly stroked the fur under his lids as you spoke, “Then do you remember what I told you after telling me your story?” You were answered with a nod again. Shadow remains quiet but is clearly paying attention to you.

“Then my words are the same as before. It doesn’t matter how you were born or whose blood you are connected with. You are way more than what you think of yourself. You’re you, Shadow. It’s what you do that makes you who you are, what you choose to be. And that includes protecting this world, humanity, and us. So please..”  you breathed, a melancholic gaze dawning on your features as you sadly smiled at him, your glassy eyes imploring. 

“Don’t hate yourself any longer. Don’t turn blind to the true value that resides in your soul.”

If there was the least you can do to ease the deep scar in his heart, is to be there for him through his dark times.

Shadow didn’t say anything. The only evidence of acknowledgement you could grasp was the spark in his gaze. His eyes screamed in dozens of emotions more than he could show, words that were left unspoken that ached to be told. 

Then, a tiny pale white particle fell over Shadow's nose. Followed by the other as it landed on his black furs, the shade of its contrast visible. More and more of the ice particles fell down from the sky until it became a semblance of a drizzle of rain. 

Shadow looks up, witnessing the first snow of the month pouring down from the greyish sky. He breathes silently, casting a light, transparent smoke to waft from his lips. He remembers a certain girl telling him once, aboard in the Ark where it’s only just the two of them as they both studied the seasonal occasions on the Earth with a book. Winter was the one she greatly wished to experience, rambling how they would play in the pile of snow, build a snowman, make an angel pattern on the snowy ground, everything else the season has to offer. But one thing stuck to his mind. 

“It says here that snow symbolizes innocence and a fresh start to life. Can you imagine how lovely would that be, Shadow? When we’re finally on Earth, we can start over and witness the beautiful experience of winter’s embrace! I can’t wait for that moment to come!”

He closed his eyes as he relieved the fond memory of his past, feeling the droplets of snow falling to his face and quills as he lost himself in it. Are you watching over me, Maria?

“Shadow?” a soft voice calls out. Shadow breaks out from his moment of reprieve. He opened his eyes again and casted his head down, meeting your gaze once more.

He knew that wishful dream between them would never come true. 

But wishes don’t always have to be one sided for him. She wanted him to be happy after all.

People around them bustled with life and merriment, overjoyed by the sight of the snow pouring constantly on their figures. The song had stopped too, the performers seemingly distracted by the winter’s grace visit. 

You thought you might have said something wrong or exaggerated your words, because Shadow was being silent longer than he should. You open your mouth to express your apology but before you could, Shadow had leaned in and rested his forehead against yours. Gone were the scornful gleam in his red eyes as they now swam in sincerity and longing. You nearly gasped at the contact, your breath stolen from you. 

“Perhaps I should start making memories with you from now on.” Shadow declares, his voice quiet but soft. One that he never thought he’s capable of sounding like. 

Your eyes widened at his statement in shock. He took the words completely right out of you, rendering you unable to form any sentences. Somersaults came breaking in through your chest, a strong wave of adrenaline coursing through your nerves. Never in your life would you ever hear such declarations coming from him. It sounded like a vow he forged between you. It’s as if you’ve  reached the stars in the sky, for they have blessed her with their divine gift. 

“W-What is it with you and the way you talk? It’s..unfair.” The entirety of your face turned bleak red all the way down to your neck, the close proximity between sending wild races to your heart. You feared it wouldn’t calm down after this. 

Shadow only gave you a sided smirk and to your disappointment, he pulled away from you too soon. 

“We should head home,” he said while looking around the area, observing whether the snowfall would amplify its strength as it will be difficult to ride in the thick pile of snow down in the road later on. 

Meanwhile, you still haven’t recovered prior to your blissed out emotions, hot steams blowing out from your ears. How could he act so normally after what he just did?!

And then again, there are still more time for them to unravel your moments together. Or even so, maybe there will be a time where Shadow can fully accept himself. 

author’s notes: another fic of shadow yeyyy! I hope you like this fic I’ve written. I was actually planning to write for the Idol! Shadow but this concept really took an idea out of me since Christmas is nearing! So Merry Christmas to you all and more for our beloved ultimate lifeform fics shall be written! Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! ♡ ꒰ˆ. . ˆ ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི꒱੭ﾞ

[chrismalfoy]

ex with benefits chris "accidentally" sending you a text message.

[a mix of angst and fluff.]

once chris opened the door, you stepped into his room. his eyes roamed over you, taking in every detail—the way his ‘72’ long sleeve hung on you, tucked casually on one side, and how your baggy black jeans perfectly complemented your figure. you took a sip from your water bottle, your keys dangling in your left hand. “hey, hot stuff,” he smirked.

oh, he knew you were mad—so mad. he bit down lightly on his bottom lip as he gripped your jaw. “are you wearing the cinnamon swell?” he recognized every shade and every lip liner you owned because your lips were his favorite feature.

you let out a scoff, pushing his hand away as you walked to his bed and sat down, crossing your right leg over your left. he let out a low, heated laugh, lifting his black hat to run his fingers through his messy hair before settling it back in place.

“oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, walking over to you. he leaned in close, hovering above you, his hands braced on either side of you, trapping you against the bed as he drew nearer.

chris softly pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, tilting his head slightly. he mumbled against them, his voice low and teasing, “you look really yummy right now.”

you exhaled sharply through your nose, your tone cold as you asked, “who was that girl?”

chris brushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, a smirk playing on his lips. “my previous hookup,” he said casually. “jealous about it, sweetheart?”

you looked away, jealousy bubbling up inside you. pushing him away, you stood up abruptly and walked toward his bathroom. “aw!” he teased, following closely behind, his eyes shamelessly trailing over your figure.

you slammed the door shut, ignoring him, your urgency taking over as you hurried to use the toilet. outside, chris let out a laugh, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, patiently waiting for you to finish.

as soon as you finished and opened the door to wash your hands, chris was still there. he wrapped his arms around your waist without hesitation, his lips finding that certain spot on your neck. he pressed soft, deliberate kisses there, making your breath hitch. you exhaled in relief, tilting your head slightly to give him better access.

his hands slowly slid up, resting just underneath your boobs. he gently rubbed his thumb up and down, the movement deliberate and slow, sending a wave of tension through your body.

once you were done washing your hands, you grabbed a paper towel and dried them off. “chris” you whispered softly.

“yeah ma?” chris responded, his voice low as he pulled you closer, his hand sliding to rest on the inside of your thigh.

he was driving you insane, his touch and proximity leaving you so overwhelmed that you couldn’t gather the words to spill from your mouth. — suddenly you were turned around and lifted onto the counter, his hands bracing each side of you. he leaned in, tilting his head as the kiss deepened.

you cupped his cheeks, the thought of why you two had broken up flickering in your mind. but yet again, you were exes with benefits, still tangled in each other’s lives, no matter the past.

but when you're kissing him, everything around you disappears. your senses come alive, like the missing puzzle piece finally falls into place, and all your doubts fade away.

once chris pulled away from the kiss, you stared at him in a daze, lost in the moment. he smirked, teasing, “hellooo, earth to y/n,” before gripping your jaw gently, snapping you out of your trance.

you slid off the counter, stumbling over your words. “i-i have something to do… i just remembered.”

chris intertwined his fingers with yours, his gaze steady. “yeah? what?” you began to turn, walking backwards, and he followed, both of your arms still intertwined in the air. you let go of his grip as you grabbed your keys and your water bottle.

he stopped in his tracks, watching you, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “are you really going to leave, sweetheart?”

“yeah!” you exhaled, trying to brush off the lingering tension.

“mkay, text me later, bub,” he said with a soft smirk, the nickname making your heart melt. you hadn’t heard it in a while. you gave a small nod, a hint of a smile forming before you turned and left.

as you turned to leave, chris gave a quick smack on your butt. “chris!” you exclaimed.

he grinned, his tone playful. “love youuu”

“yeah, yeah, yeah,” you replied, shaking your head with a smile. “love you too”

[goldenxshine]

Hiii! I was wondering if you could do a modern au fic where aegon is divorcing his ex wife bc she would neglect their kids which almost resulted in the death of jaherys. But aegon soon finds reader who is his personal assistant and she is just so sweet and loving to his kids and is really the maternal figure they need in their lives and also takes care of aegon’s health and well-being. Over some time he falls for her and her for him and immediately when aegon tells the kids that they’re dating they start begging to call her mummy

₊˚.⋆⋆⁺₊✧ Finding home ₊˚.⋆⋆⁺₊✧

aegon ii targaryen x f!reader

Summary: Aegon Targaryen II, after a painful divorce, finds comfort in his assistant, Y/N, who becomes a mother figure to his children. As they start dating, the kids eagerly call her "Mommy," and with Y/N’s care, Aegon’s family begins to heal.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Aegon Targaryen II sat in his lawyer’s office, his head in his hands. The weight of the past year bore down on him like a dragon’s flame, searing his soul.

The papers in front of him—a finalized divorce from his ex-wife, Lila—felt both like a relief and a failure. He never imagined he’d be here, fighting for custody of his children after Lila’s negligence nearly cost him their lives.

His thoughts were particularly consumed by his eldest son, Jaehaerys. It had been six months since the accident—a near-drowning at a pool party where Lila had disappeared for hours, leaving the children unattended.

Jaehaerys was still haunted by the memory, and his younger sister, Jaehaera, often woke up crying in the middle of the night.

Aegon blamed himself. He’d been too distracted, too absorbed in the world of business, too content with his own indulgences to notice how far Lila had drifted from her responsibilities as a mother.

It wasn’t until the accident that he realized how much his children needed someone who would love and protect them unconditionally.

That someone, he vowed, would never be Lila again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N L/N adjusted her glasses as she carried a tray of coffee into Aegon’s office.

She had worked as his personal assistant for the past year and a half, and while she initially thought the job would be all emails and schedules, she soon found herself stepping into a much more personal role.

Aegon’s life was chaos, and she had become the one constant keeping it from falling apart.

“Your 2 p.m. meeting with the board is confirmed,” Y/N said as she set the coffee on his desk. “And the kids’ school called—they need someone to chaperone the field trip next week. I put your name down just in case, but let me know if you want me to handle it.”

Aegon looked up at her, his violet eyes cold and distant, his posture slumped as though the weight of everything pressed on him all at once.

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll take care of it. I don’t know why you’re always doing so much for me. It's just part of your job, right?”

Y/N smiled, but there was a hint of concern in her expression. “It’s not just my job to keep things running smoothly for you, Aegon. I want to help. You’re doing a lot more than you think.”

He grunted, uncomfortable with the sentiment. For the past year, Y/N had been the one person he could rely on without questioning her motives.

She had kept the household running, ensured that Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were always taken care of, and yet, Aegon never truly let himself see how much he depended on her.

He didn’t want to be vulnerable, not after everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N wasn’t sure when it happened. At first, she was just his assistant, a professional working in a chaotic, emotionally distant environment.

Aegon didn’t open up easily, and when he did, it was often shrouded in bitterness. He would show up late, distracted, often late for meetings or with his mind clearly elsewhere.

But she began noticing the small signs—the way his shoulders would relax when she offered him a cup of tea, the way he leaned into her words when she gave him advice, even how he softened around the kids.

Aegon Targaryen wasn’t a man who was used to being taken care of. His divorce had left him a hollow shell, focusing on work and ignoring the gaping hole in his life. But Y/N’s warmth and presence had a way of cutting through that coldness. It was disarming, and she couldn’t help but feel a deep sympathy for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Aegon found himself sitting on the couch with Y/N while the kids watched a movie. Jaehaerys had fallen asleep with his head on Y/N’s lap, and Jaehaera was curled up beside her, clutching her hand.

“Y/N,” Aegon said, his voice quiet, strained, but not with the usual indifference. It was as if he had to remind himself to speak. “You’ve done more for them than I ever could. I didn’t even realize how much they needed someone until I saw you with them.”

Y/N glanced up from the children, her expression softening. “They just need someone who’s there, Aegon. They’ve been through a lot.”

He met her eyes for a long moment, his face hard but somehow… softer than usual. “I’m not good at this. At any of this. I was a lousy husband, a worse father, and now… I just want to fix it. For them. For me.”

Her heart clenched. She could see the pain in his eyes, the weight of everything he’d lost, and yet he still fought for his children, still tried in the only way he knew how.

Y/N placed a gentle hand on his, but he pulled away quickly, as if startled by the intimacy.

“You don’t have to do everything alone, Aegon,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to fix everything. Sometimes, things get fixed just by being there.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Weeks passed, and Aegon began to realize how much he needed Y/N—not just in terms of work, but in his personal life. She was always there for the kids, always there for him, with a kind word, a thoughtful gesture.

She wasn’t like the others in his life, who only wanted something from him. Y/N never expected anything in return. She just gave, endlessly.

It was late one evening, when the kids were asleep, that Aegon found himself in the kitchen, his gaze lingering on Y/N.

She was rinsing dishes, humming softly to herself, and Aegon could hear the comforting rhythm of her movements. It was absurd, really. He was the future of a dynasty, but in that moment, all he could think about was how Y/N made him feel… like maybe he wasn’t so alone anymore.

He cleared his throat, and she turned toward him. “Y/N… I—” He stopped himself, his voice dropping.

“I don’t know what to say. You’ve done more than I ever could have imagined. But I… I don’t want to keep pretending that this is just business. That it’s just about the kids or the company. It’s not, and I think you know that. It’s more. I want it to be more.”

Y/N didn’t say anything at first. She simply stepped closer, her gaze steady, and placed her hand on his cheek, as though to steady him.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore, Aegon,” she whispered. “I think I’ve known for a while.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The following weekend, Aegon decided it was time to tell the kids. As they sat around the dining table, their plates half-empty, he cleared his throat. Jaehaerys was picking at his food, his usual brooding expression on his face, while Jaehaera busied herself with her toy.

“Jaehaerys, Jaehaera,” Aegon began, his voice low but resolute, “I want to talk to you about something. Y/N and I… we��re dating.”

The kids stopped immediately, their attention snapping to him. For a long moment, there was silence, and Aegon could feel the tension rise.

Then, without missing a beat, Jaehaerys looked at Aegon with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

“Does that mean we can call her Mommy?” Jaehaerys asked in a tone that was a little too casual, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Aegon froze, his heart lurching in his chest. Y/N’s eyes widened, and she looked at Aegon nervously, waiting for his response.

Jaehaera chimed in, her voice a little too enthusiastic. “Mommy!” she repeated, giggling.

Aegon’s lips twitched into a half-smile, one he rarely allowed himself to express. “If it’s okay with her,” he said, his voice a little more uncertain than he would have liked.

Y/N smiled, her eyes filling with emotion. “I would love that,” she whispered, her voice thick with sentiment. “If you’re okay with it.”

And in that moment, Aegon knew that his life had changed. For the first time in a long while, it felt like things could be… okay. Maybe even good.

He wasn’t sure where this path would lead, but with Y/N by his side, and with the kids by his side, he could finally begin to heal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Over time, Y/N continued to prove herself as the rock Aegon had always needed. She cared for the kids with the tenderness of someone who had always been their mother, even though she wasn’t.

She helped Jaehaerys regain his trust in the world, and she encouraged Jaehaera to open up about her fears. Aegon, too, began to change. His attitude softened. He took better care of himself. He even started to show up for his kids in ways he hadn’t before, inspired by Y/N’s steadfast love and patience.

One evening, as he watched Y/N help the kids with their toys, Aegon realized he had found something precious. Not just love, but a family. His heart swelled with a quiet pride, knowing he had found a partner who could be the mother his children needed. And for once, Aegon Targaryen didn’t feel alone.

Because in Y/N, he had found not just a companion, but a home.