#a part of me wants the reaction to be one they played up for silver

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

To Love and To Cherish (I)

Part 9 of my Accidentally on Purpose Series!

Warnings: Smut (18+), CNC Play, masturbation (f), practice of future CNC play.

A/N: Hoping to get To love and to cherish (II) out soon.

Something’s shifted.

It’s intoxicating being in the same room with him, you can barely think straight in his presence.

When he wakes up in the morning, to get dressed for work, you wake too, and you watch him.

It’s training day, and he has to go in extra early, but the time doesn’t stop you, you wake, and you watch him quietly, as he steps out of the shower with his torso bare, delicious snake tattoo on display for you.

He puts on a show for you, one towel snug around his hips and another smaller one for his hair. You don’t hesitate, propping your body on two pillows, tossing the covers off.

He pauses, glancing in the mirror to make eye contact with you when he sees the movement.

You hold his gaze, tugging your dress up to expose your lower half to the open air.

His eyes are dangerous, warning you not to push your luck.

But you want his anger, you want his rage, you want his darkness.

You slip your hand between your legs.

His throat bobs as he swallows, and after a moment, he resumes his routine while you massage your clit gently behind him.

You watch him easily, delicate fingers roaming over your swollen bud, gentle, featherlight, content to observe him and nothing more.

Your body burns, begging you to go faster to get yourself off, but you know, just like he knows, that it’s not going to happen until he can.

You watch him slide his boxers on, then his socks, pants next, and you hum delightfully at the way he looks, messy, with his white shirt open exposing a part of his chest and abdomen. 

You want to lick the trail of hair below his navel, your fingers speeding up.

When you whine a second time, he turns his head, looking at you from the corner of his eye as you stare at him in the reflection of the floor length mirror.

You know what it means, you’re taking too many liberties, and you stop the motion of your fingers automatically.

He faces forward again, buttoning his shirt slowly.

When he’s done with that, he steps into his closet for a tie. He brings back two options, leaning against the bed as he holds them out for you. One is a dark mauve, and the other a slate grey, you tilt your head, observing the colour of his pants before you raise your hand, slick with the arousal from your cunt, and run your fingers on the back of the purple tie.

He drops the other tie on the bed beside you, sliding the tie you selected around his neck. Your fingers glide right back between your legs, tormenting your body for his pleasure.

He steps away again, grabs cufflinks and a watch, drops them on the bed and presents one wrist for your assistance.

You look him right in the eye when you reach for a cufflink, your fingers sticky with your arousal. Pressing them into his sleeve. They’re silver, and as you squint in the early hours of the morning, you notice a snake engraved onto it.

You look up at him, breath halting in your chest at his expression, his lips curled into a gentle smile, his eyes so dark you swear they take up all the light in the room.

You look down, reaching for the other cufflink, and then his watch.

His hands are… gorgeous, and you turn his palm upward so that you can press your cheek against it. A blissful sigh leaves your lips, his rough palm on your cheek and you delight in how whole you feel, your fingers going right back to that spot that craves him so desperately.

“Tell me something else that you know about me.” You beg, looking up at him.

His eyelids flutter for a moment.

“I've seen your porn preferences. I know what you touch yourself to the most.” Billy answers.

Your mouth parts in shock, but your fingers don't stop their glide on your clit, eager for the information.

When he reads your reaction, and determines it's not one of real fear, he decides to take it further.

He pulls his hand from your cheek, pushing you back until you hit the bed with a gasp, he hovers over you ominously, and the same hand that was just cupping your cheek gently, rises to grip your jaw firmly.

“You like hearing that? I know what dirty things you look at while you play with that little cunt. I know what no one else knows about you, I've read the porn you get wet to. Does that turn you on?”

You whine, fingers moving faster on your clit as you nod.

He releases your jaw, reaching down, he grabs your wrist to pull your fingers from between your thighs. 

“Enough.” He growls lowly, and you feel a shiver of bliss traverse your spine.

After a few moments, you come to your senses just a little, looking up at him with desperate eyes.

You pant, watching his hands release your wrist, his fingers trailing down your forearm, and up to your shoulder.

He slips his fingers under the strap of your dress, sliding it down your shoulder, tugging at it, until your breast is almost exposed but not yet.

His hand presses to your shoulder next, thumb roving over the exposed skin.

“Do you like… bondage?” He whispers, the tips of his fingers dragging gently on your skin.

You shiver, tilting your head to the side to let his fingers explore you. You nod subtly.

His hand wraps around your throat.

“Words.”

“Yes, sir,” you whisper in a rush, “I like the idea of being tied up.”

“Why?” He pries.

“Helpless.” You stutter out, a little ashamed.

His eyes are dark, overwhelming in a way that makes you feel like you've been holding your breath. Your vision swims, hypnotized by him.

His mouth curves up into a devious smile.

“You wanna be helpless for your husband?”

Your body throbs as you whisper your affirmative.

Then he blinks, and the darkness in his eyes recede, he leans down, a quick kiss to your lips.

“Three more days.” He promises, before he straightens his body, leaving you in the next moment, dishevelled, and barely breathing.

.

He pulls your hands behind your back, keeping them locked together in his grip while he pushes your shoulder, forcing you to bend over his desk until your cheek presses against the cool wood.

You stay there for a second, trying to breathe through your arousal, your panties already ruined from a few minutes ago when he was asking your permission to do this.

“How was that?” He asks softly, loosening his grip on your wrists.

You make a little shake of your head.

“Harder.” You whisper.

“Sure?” He checks.

“Please.” 

He grips your wrists once more, pulling you up, his other hand gripping the back of your hair to manipulate your body better, walks you over to his floor length windows, his movements a little more forceful, and doesn’t stop until your cheek is pressed securely to it.

“Better?” He asks.

“Uh-huh,” You mewl, cheekbone aching a little with the pressure, “Hit the glass.”

His hand slips from your hair, he spins you around, so easily manhandling you in a way that has your legs wobbling while you try to keep up.

You’re looking right into his eyes when his palm slams against the glass right beside your head. It makes a deep sound, you can feel the vibration of it against the glass. It makes you press your thighs together tightly in response, something tugging harshly inside of you.

He leans in, a stern expression on his face as he gets close.

“Did my little plaything like that?”

You close your eyes, nodding your head frantically.

“Two days.” He promises, a soft kiss pressed to your lips.

.

“One more day.” He whispers into your ear, standing behind you, he pulls your hair away so that he can place soft kisses on the nape of your neck.

You giggle, tilting your neck to give him better access.

“Someone is going to see us.” You warn him, as you stand in Anvil's rooftop restaurant, looking out the window at the skyline.

“I love how you think that would stop me.” He teases between kisses, “Anyway, what's one more day? I'm sure I'm well enough now. We can go back to my office and get rid of all this… frustration.”

You glance around to make sure that no one’s around, the late time of day helps with that.

“I wanna see a signed note from your doctor before you’re allowed to do anything. Besides,” You turn, wrapping your hands around his neck, watching his smile as he looks at you, “Wouldn’t it be a little sad if we waited this long, only for our first time to be in your office?”

“Oh, suddenly you don’t like my office? I can recall a lot of times you begged for me there.”

You scoff in amusement.

“I’m just saying, we should make the next time special.”

“It’s going to be.” He promises, with no elaboration.

His face takes on a serious expression, glancing away for a moment, deep in thought. You study him, waiting patiently for what you can see he’s building up the courage to say.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, softly.

Of course you did, more than anything, Billy knew you in a way that no one else did, he understood you, on levels that no other person could. Of course you trusted him.

Whether you should, was a different debate.

“I trust you.” You confirm.

“Sure? You know, we don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“I know. I promise you I know that.”

“Mrs. Russo?” The barista interrupts, “Your order is ready.”

“I love when people call you that.” Billy murmurs when you pull your hands from around his neck to step away.

You loved it too.

.

Billy holds your body tightly to his as you finish up lunch. His arms are wound around you as you lean against him.

You sigh, tucked against his body, feeling so safe and cared for, his arm resting easily on your shoulder, your eyes slip shut to help you relax.

“So, I kind of have a question for you.” Billy hums, his voice close to your ear.

“Hmm?” You ask, reaching up to link your hand with his.

“Can I have your wedding ring back?”

Your eyes spring open.

Before you can even ask for clarification, he’s speaking again.

“Only temporarily, I want to add something to it.” He explains.

You raise your other hand, examining the ring, you feel him press closer.

“It’s beautiful on your hand.” He murmurs.

You smile, because you know he can’t see it, you let your emotions show on your face. His left hand moves, reaching so that your fingers can interlock. Your rings glitter together beside each other.

You love the way they look, the little star etchings, the small sapphires, the way your rings look like extensions of each other.

“You can’t leave my finger bare, I’ll miss the ring too much.”

He makes a little chuckle.

“So I should have bought a replacement?”

“Not necessarily, you just have to put something there to keep the spot warm- like a rubber band or something.”

“I am not gonna wrap some shitty rubber band around your pretty finger.”

Glee fills you.

“So what then?”

“Umm..” He starts, pulling his hands away so that he can check his pockets for something, he glances at his desk, searching for ideas, before he tugs a little pocket knife out of his pants pocket and then tugs the small pocket square out of the breast pocket of his jacket that’s draped over the arm of the couch.

You sit up, watching him as he carefully slides the knife through the edge of the fabric and raises a small strip of silk cloth for you to see.

Your eyebrows lift in amusement,  and you put your hand in his when he asks. His fingers wrap around the ring and you curl your fingers for a second, thinking about it for a moment, before relaxing.

He slips the ring from your finger so easily that you hate it. He makes it better by tying the strip of silk around your finger comfortably and cutting off the excess fabric.

It doesn't feel the same, your finger uncomfortably bare. You curl your hand into a fist, trying to force your familiarity.

He's studying you raptly when you look up at him, his head is tilted to the side in observation.

“What?” You ask quietly.

He shakes his head, a smile curling on his lips.

“I'm just admiring how sad you look without my ring.”

You give him a look of annoyance.

He grins.

“Come here.” He says, reaching for you, gripping your hips and tugging you onto his lap. You adjust your body accordingly so that you straddle his hips.

He grips the back of your head, pulling you down so that your lips meet.

He groans into your mouth, and you hum in response, your hands cupping his rough cheeks.

“My wife.” He hums between kisses, and you smile, deepening your kiss, Feeling his arms wrap tighter around you.

Your stomach tingles, hearing him say those words, you nod into your kiss, trying to tell him that yes, you were his wife, without having to say it.

More and more you were coming to understand how much you loved him, that every time you checked, you found it to be deeper than before.

He pulls back a little but you're not having it, kissing him harder, slipping your tongue past his lips.

Billy groans, feeling your urgency, responding to it with the tightening of his grip. He slides his hands over your body, admiring how good you feel above him.

He's hard, you can feel it, snug between your thighs and you don't hesitate to roll your hips against him.

He stiffens, gripping your hips to stop you. He laughs in the breath between kisses.

“Stop. Or I'll strip you bare and fuck you right here.”

Your fingers wrap around the knot of his tie, pulling him closer.

“Maybe your office wouldn't be so bad.”

“For what I have planned for you, I'll need more than an office.” He counters.

You sigh, releasing his tie and sliding off his lap. He lets you go easily, though his fingers still reach for you, twitching to hold himself back.

“Your loss.” You tease.

“Not at all, I'll make up for it later.” He responds, voice calm and casual.

You raise your eyebrows curiously.

“What exactly are you planning?”

He smirks in amusement.

“Just a little payback, Mrs. Russo, don't worry your pretty head.”

.

You’re holding his hand when you leave the building, but you draw up short when instead of one car waiting for you, there are two.

There’s a woman standing beside one car, a clipboard, or maybe a binder in hand. She stands straight, her bright red hair catching on the wind.

Billy says your name, and you turn to him curiously.

His eyes are on you, and he tilts his head, raising a hand to cup your cheek.

“You’re going to have to trust me now.” He says, his voice a little loud to compete with the din of New York.

You nod, trying to tell him that you understand without having to say it.

“Will I see you soon?” You ask, catching on to the idea that you'd be going to a different place than he was.

He smiles, nodding his head and leaning in to kiss the top of your head. As he lets you go, you reach for him, gripping his arm, a little afraid to be without him.

“Tell me something.” You plead, looking up at him.

He smiles in understanding, leaning down to press his lips to your ear.

“Sometimes, when you thought you were talking to Dominic, you were actually talking to me.” 

Your mouth drops open in surprise, your body going warm in the cold, New York air.

.

You let out a soft sigh, squinting down at the open binder in your hands.

The redhead from earlier, had introduced herself as Sam, eager to get you into the car so that you could begin your journey to wherever you were going. She wouldn’t tell you, only giving you a soft smile before informing you that it was kind of a surprise.

She’d opened the binder, explaining that she planned special events and that Billy had contacted her for something very special. You assumed, with the way she was speaking, that she thought this was something of a date, and not what you guessed it really was- Billy’s attempt at taking six weeks’ worth of sexual frustration out on you.

The binder itself had contained pictures of a variety of different things. From dresses to food to flowers, she wanted an idea of the things you really liked.

You were stuck on dresses currently, flipping through, searching for something that really stood out. Sam had explained that these were already narrowed down by Billy, and whichever you chose would come along with you.

You were still curious about where you could possibly be going.

There was an obvious theme to the dresses, ball gown-esque in their design, not over the top because he knew you didn’t like that, but nothing overly simple as well. Some were covered in rhinestones, some were layered with delicate tulle fabrics, one had a keyhole neckline that could be seen as very inappropriate in a formal setting.

You scanned the pages, knowing that whatever dress you picked would most likely be torn from you before the night was over, and if you picked the right one- for example one with a high slit- you may have the opportunity to wear it just a little longer than the others.

When your eyes settle on one of the more shimmery materials, you blink, tilting your head. It wasn’t too extravagant, and yet something about the way the fabric looked kept drawing your eyes. The best part was the high slit, that you could assume would come up to the middle of your thigh, which would make it easier for you to run if necessary.

“This one.” You angle the book so that Sam can see. She nods eagerly, reassuring you of your selection.

“That one can be off shoulder, or with straps. What are you feeling?”

You hum, deep in thought for a moment.

“Off shoulder.” You decide, smiling at the thought of it.

“And, I also want something else, but you can’t ask any follow up questions.” 

She tilts her head, and you explain it to her.

.

Your mouth drops open when the car comes to a stop, and there’s a jet waiting for you.

“Where on earth am I going?” You ask in disbelief, tuning to Sam in shock.

She smiles apologetically, shakes her head.

“You’re supposed to trust him, he said.”

Billy could be really outrageous at times.

The pilot introduces himself, and when you ask him about the plane’s destination, he angles his body to Sam, who simply shrugs. 

By now, it’s well into the night, and as the plane takes off,  the stewardess provides options for your dinner.

Billy’s methodology was madness, and you, equally mad for going along with it. Here you were, on a plane with people you didn’t know, going to an unknown place and all you had to go on was your trust in him, the man who’d trapped you in a marriage.

You didn’t even know where your passport was- how did you even get this far in the first place? You had no clothes, nothing to change into, not even a toothbrush-

Your thinking halts when Sam presents a small leather bag to you. You look up at her, taking it into your hands, the hum of the engine loud in your ears.

You look down, unzipping the top and peering inside.

Billy Russo, your magnificent husband, had packed you a bag of essentials.

You knew it was him, who else would know all your product preferences, you even find a pair of silk pyjamas, with your initials embroidered onto the breast pocket.

There was no one like him, and you knew, deep down, there’d never be another.

You smile to yourself, wanting to spill over with words of adoration, aching to grab the next person you could find and tell them how much you loved your husband.

“There's a bedroom in the back,” Sam says, “You can sleep there, we should arrive in the morning.” 

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise that the flight would be that long.

You study Sam for a moment, she gives you a shy smile, and you roll your eyes, already knowing that she wasn't going to tell you where you were going.

Dinner is delicious, beans, potatoes, chicken, and you really enjoy it, though you find yourself missing the warmth of your husband at your side. You realise that you've been around him constantly for a long time, and although you're still on his plane with his staff, you've never been physically farther since you woke up married to him.

Halfway through dinner, you get a text from him. You smile as you open the message, seeing that it's just a single photo of a document clearing him for work and physical activity as well.

Your mind goes wild with your imagination of what you're going to get up to, so of course, after you've settled into bed later, you unbutton the shirt of your pyjama top a little to send him a tasteful photo of your chest, your embroidered initials just barely covering your nipple. 

You see the read receipt activate and you grin, watching him begin typing and stop repeatedly for five minutes before a message actually comes though.

I was in a handover meeting with Frank when I opened that. I groaned out loud and he kicked me out of his office.

You giggle.

I hope you're happy, he adds.

Your only response is to send him another picture, this time, you have your breasts on full display for him.

You're in so much trouble, is his only reply.

.

You wake when there’s a knock on the door.

“Yeah?” You ask, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Sorry to wake you,” She says through the door, “But you should get dressed, we’re landing soon.”

You glance at your phone to check the time, 10 am. You squint in confusion, knowing that you hadn’t been flying for that long.

You manage to pull yourself up, with a little grumble and get showered and dressed, Billy having supplied another item of clothing- a sundress- at the bottom of the bag.

You're seated and buckled in when the plane lands, and on the way out, the stewardess presents you with a cup of coffee and a breakfast bagel.

You take a look at your surroundings, studying the airplane hangar that you'd docked into, looking for any flags or language differences.

All the signs are in English, but you don't see any flags. You don't have a chance to look outside, being guided into an awaiting limo.

When you get settled, another text comes in.

Stop trying to figure out where you are, just go with it.

You roll your eyes in mild annoyance.

Did you just roll your eyes at me?

You blink in shock, raising your head and looking around. Sam pays you no mind as she studies the area outside while the limo drives. You figure there must be a concealed camera somewhere, allowing him to look at you.

Creep, you think affectionately.

Another message comes in, with an attached picture that makes your eyes widen and your core heat up.

It's a photo of his lap, fully clothed, Except he's gripping his cock through the fabric tight enough that you can see how hard he is.

You grit your teeth. Billy was such a fucking tease.

I'm going to have to apologize to that poor pussy for how hard she's about to be punished.

You clench, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to bite down, feeling the pain center you.

You take a moment, turning your phone down to let the emotions run through you. Your heart was pounding in your chest you could feel the buzz of anticipation in your veins. Soon he'd have you, manipulate you into submission, make you his very own plaything.

You could barely contain yourself, desperate for it, the thoughts of riding his cock till you couldn't breathe, the feeling of his hands on your skin, the way his tongue knew exactly how to glide across your clit. 

You smile, turning your phone over, sending a message to him, a challenge.

You'll have to catch me first.

.

The shift in timezones makes you a little groggy, and you’re almost half asleep when you see it.

You blink, trying to wrap your head around what you're seeing through the window of the limousine.

With tall, pointed spires, soft beige brick, the castle stands at the centre of a large piece of land, extending out as far as you can see.

It's not obscenely large, a flair of something ancient and baroque in its style, spanning the size of maybe a football field, or perhaps, a little smaller.

However dark the castle seems, is offset by the brilliance of the surrounding gardens. 

And it takes you, it spins your mind, weaves intricate webs of fantasy and lust, makes you consider, just for a moment, the things Billy would do with you here, the ways it could make you feel.

“Gorgeous.” You hum, deep in your own wonder.

“It is.” Sam agrees, “When Mister Russo told me he'd gotten it all to himself for a week- well it blew my mind. This castle is super exclusive, they only rent a few rooms, to get the entire place, I can't even imagine.”

You want to stop her so many times. He'd rented the entire place? For a whole week?

Your cunt was definitely in trouble.

“Hmmm.” Is the only thing you can say, heart tugging in your chest at the implications, stomach fluttering in excitement.

There's a small welcoming party at the entrance door where the car comes to a stop on a circular driveway. You step out first, smiling politely and shaking hands with the people that introduce themselves. There's a house manager and groundskeeper and so many titles get tossed your way that you almost forget them all.

The tour of the castle is thankfully brief, because despite your night of sleep, the travel has made you exhausted. You smile politely, amazed at the beautiful interior, eager to explore it more on your own time later. You do take note of the dining room, with its large windows and the throne room that holds an impressive chandelier. You try to remember one important detail about each room as they begin to blur together.

Your room is on the second floor, a magnificently large space with an obscenely decorated four poster bed. It's gorgeous with intricate wooden carvings on the walls and on the columns of the bed.

You feel like royalty when you flop onto the bed, simmering with excitement as you let the effect of your surroundings sink in.

Your stomach flutters, you gaze up at the soft pink canopy, studying the intricate designs on the ceiling, letting the looping patterns calm you.

As you relax, sleep takes over, the fatigues of travel finally taking its toll.

.

.

.

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: Whether in the solitude of his room or surrounded by family, all Azriel can think is that he would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Angst, Mourning, mention of suicide

Word Count: 3652

Notes: I don't even know where this came from. I was listening to sweet music by hozier and thought "what if I gave Azriel more trauma". The idea popped into my head and it basically wrote itself. I can't believe I have to say this but with this fandom I'm not risking it: this wasn't written to hate on Elain (or any other character) or incite anyone else to do so. Keep your stupid fights off my post, please and thank you. Hope you enjoy!

Part 2

Another family dinner at the river house meant another night of watching everyone around him happy and in love. Azriel didn't think of himself as egotistical, would never think the love his brothers are experiencing is undeserved either, but it reminds him of a time where he was the only one in the Inner Circle with a partner, of when his brothers were the ones confessing to him how jealous they were of how he had found someone that loved him so much, of a time he never thought would have an end. It reminds him of you.

He looks himself in the mirror as he buttons up the navy shirt, trying to ignore the vacant room behind him. If you were here with him you would have been making jokes about his insistence on keeping the blue theme going in his clothes even though he swears he doesn't think too much about what to wear or his appearance in general.

On a good day, you'd be helping him with the small buttons right now, with shadows swirling around your legs and looking up at him the way you knew would take his breath away every time. On an even better day, he'd have your back pressed against his chest, his fingers inside your familiar heat, the other hand wrapped around your throat so you could watch him play with your body, panting his name and clawing at his arm, pleading with him to keep going, to let you touch him. He'd be late for an entirely different reason, not for getting held up talking to his spies, and then getting lost in his memories.

Sensing his thoughts, his meddling shadows move to his desk, filtering into the drawer they knew held a small velvet box. The dark wisps carefully picked it up and set it on top of the dark wood. Leaving it there and moving back to their original places around the darkened room, letting him decide for himself if he wanted to open it or not.

It had been a while since the last time he touched it, busy as he was these days. There were times he would sit and look at it every day, sometimes without even daring to open it and look inside. But there were also times where even the sight of the navy velvet would suddenly suffocate him with the reminder of your sweet scent, one he would never be able to smell again. It would make him hide the box at the back of his drawer, the back of his mind.

Over the last few years, his reactions to it had gotten milder, an unwilling acceptance of the fact that he would never see you again allowed him to reminisce on the happy memories you had together, even the sad ones, every little fight you had seemed so inconsequential now, he'd give anything to be able to have any moment with you back, to hear you say his name one more time.

He walks to the desk, only hesitating for a beat before grabbing and opening the box. His heart throbs as he stares at the ring sitting inside, thumbing at the empty space left behind by it on his finger instinctively. He had never liked rings, didn't like anything that brought attention to his hands or rubbed against the rough skin but the moment you slid the silver ring into his finger it felt right, he had never wanted to take it off. Azriel would wear a ring on each finger if it showed the world he was yours.

He wore the ring for an entire decade after you died, even after all hope that you could still be alive had left him, he couldn't bring himself to let go of it, to let go of you. His mother had been the one to tell him he needed to stop wearing it, that holding onto it, onto the past would only bring him more heartache. He could still hear her begging him with tears in her eyes, not bearing to see her son in such a state, but he had only actually taken it off when Rhys was taken by Amarantha.

He had thrown the ring into the Sidra that night. He's not sure if it had been anger, frustration or simply hopelessness that drove him to it in that moment. He was tired of not being able to protect anyone, tired of losing his people, the people he never thought he would even find when he was just a boy sitting in a dark humid cell. It must have been that boy's pain, still inside him, that drove him to act like that. If it hadn't been for his shadows immediately flying after it he would have lost it, wouldn't have this reminder of a happy time sitting in front of him right now, it had helped him ground himself more than once during the years following that night. His shadows had saved him from himself once again.

He closes the box gently, rubbing at the smooth texture of the velvet, trying not to let himself get lost in your memory and the bitterness that followed at the injustice of it all. Your marriage had only lasted a little over a decade, he's had to live with your ghost for much longer than that now. Still, he knows he won't forget that time no matter how many more years he lives, and, even if it's another five centuries, he knows he'll still wish he had had the chance to spend them all with you.

Some of the pain has dulled, most days at least, but the guilt still eats at him. He should have known something was going to happen, should have reached you sooner, should have told someone to go with you, should have gone himself, should have been the one to die in your place. The millions of possibilities will likely invade his brain until his last breath, after which he'll finally be able to see you again. That was another thought that had consumed him far too often in the beginning. If it wasn't for his mother, his brothers and Mor, if it weren't for the pain it would cause them, he would have taken Truth Teller to his neck just for the chance to see you one more time.

Azriel? His wings go rigid and he tightens his hold on the box at the sudden intrusion. He tries to push his thoughts as far back into his mind as he can before lowering his mental shields, almost letting out a sigh of relief at finding them in place, hoping his brother couldn't get a glimpse of his thoughts. He hands the box to his shadows so they can safely place it back inside his drawer. Are you still coming, brother?

Yes. He moves back to the mirror and finishes buttoning his shirt while trying to keep his tone as nonchalant as possible. However, the hesitation on the other side tells him Rhys sensed exactly what was holding him up in his room, he knows him better than anyone after all.

Hurry then. We're all waiting for you. Azriel closes his walls as soon as he feels his brother's absence in his mind. He knows they miss you too. They had welcomed you with open arms and considered you part of the family after their marriage. Everyone in the Inner Circle took a big hit when you went missing. He will never forget Cassian's face when he arrived to see Azriel kneeling down in a pool of your blood, with no body to be found. His brother wore his heart on his sleeve and it had shattered that night. There were countless sleepless nights for everyone following that moment.

They all threw themselves at finding you in any way they could. There was enough blood on the floor to tell them you had died but none of them wanted to believe it. Azriel talked to every single one of his spies multiple times, ordering them to track every movement in their respective areas. Rhys sent letters to every ally he had and then joined Cassian and Mor in searching every corner of Prythian personally. Even Amren, ever the logical emotionless one, searched for you with every means she could, contacting friends the spymaster didn't even know existed. But, one by one, they all had to accept the truth, Azriel ending up being the most hesitant to.

He had long since killed the attackers, putting them through as much pain as possible for as long as he could keep them alive, making them regret ever touching you. But that didn't help with the gaping hole in his chest, nothing helped. They didn't know how to find your body either. Rhys looked through every corner of their minds and only found them leaving you behind, bleeding on the cold ground.

Rhys refused to show him the memory, no matter how much he begged him to let him see you one more time. Now he knows his brother was just trying to protect him, not wanting that to be Azriel's last memory of you, with the amount of blood left behind he knew you couldn't have been in good shape, but at the time he lashed out at his brother like he had never done before, probably would have killed him in blind rage if it hadn't been for Cassian trying to hold him back and if Rhys wasn't Rhys. Thinking back he should have thanked him instead, for holding onto such a painful memory and keeping it to himself so no one else had to suffer from it.

Even if he couldn't see you again, he still wishes that he had your body to bury at least. Azriel doesn't know how the Mother could be so cruel as to not only let you die so soon, so painfully without at least letting him find your body so he could put you to rest next to your parents' graves. It would also give him a place to talk to you, to feel as close to you as possible.

The pain almost came back in full when Rhysand first told him about Feyre. Jealousy had reared its ugly head at the fondness in his brother's gaze, the slight tint to his cheeks at just saying her name. He was happy for Rhys, especially after everything he'd been through, but that happiness couldn't hold a candle to the pain he felt. He remembers the night he confided in his brothers about the lovely female he had met, how she had told him she loved him, it had been much like that one.

To make matters worse, the first thing he remembered when Rhys told him about his mate was a stupid bet the two of you had made - you had been adamant that Cassian, as sweet as he is, would be the next to get married, Azriel had voted for Rhys, one of his many conquests were bound to work out one day. He won and yet he didn't feel victorious at all. He couldn't even tell you of your loss, see how pouty you get when it happens, ever the sore loser. Didn't even remember the prize but there was no way for you to give it to him now either way. What hurt the most was that he couldn't even tell you his brother had found his mate. These were the best news in over a century and he just wanted to share them with you, wanted to share everything with you.

He takes another look at the mirror with a small sigh, straightening his wings and making sure his face doesn't give anything away before calling to his shadows. He feels them wrap around him slowly, giving him some comfort before taking him directly to the river house.

“Almost thought you weren't coming.” He was still half covered in shadows when he heard Cassian's voice. Everyone was standing around talking to each other, waiting on him. The guilt was tugging at his heart strings again. Why would he ever feel like he needed more than a family that loved him? Who was he to think this wasn't enough for him? It was something he could only dream of when he was younger.

“He's here now. That's all that matters,” the smile Feyre gave him was warmer than usual and her hand lingered on his shoulder for a second too long. Azriel looks over to Rhys, finding him already looking at him, studying his face. He had told his mate of whatever he sensed in his mind then. He hoped neither of them brought it up at least, now or later. What good would admit he misses his dead wife do? No one can bring you back to him.

“Finally. I'm starving.” Cassian clapped his shoulder as he passed by him on the way to the already set table, sitting down immediately. Everyone followed in his footsteps, greeting Azriel and finding their seats. Seems he really had kept them waiting.

Conversation picked back up naturally and he let himself fall into the usual rhythm of these dinners, letting his body relax around his family, forgetting about his old life for the moment. He walked over to the already set table and took his seat next to Elain, as it usually was these days. The seating arrangements had moved around a bit over the last years to accommodate not only the new additions to their little circle but also the relationships in them. He used to always sit next to Cassian but now had given the seat up to his beautiful mate. It left him next to Elain most times since they were the only single fae at the table.

Elain gave him a soft smile as he sat down and he nodded at her with a smile of his own. They had been getting closer ever since she was turned to fae and started living in Velaris. Her quiet nature quickly drew him to her, feeling at ease almost immediately with the middle Archeron sister. But he had to have been blind not to see the way she looked at him, not to notice the enamored smile she gave him.

Sometimes he let himself wonder if things could work between them. She had a mate but it was clearer with each passing day that she didn't feel anything for the male tied to her. It was also obvious how well Azriel and Elain got along, fitting into each other's lives almost seamlessly. He didn't love her but couldn't say seeing himself fall for the lovely female was such a far-fetched idea. She was a beautiful and kind fae, loving her would probably be as easy as breathing.

When everyone had been made aware of the mating bonds, he had even considered if the Mother had made a mistake. His two brothers had ended up with two of the sisters after all. Now he can see he was just desperate for a bond like theirs. In truth, he wouldn't even know what he would have done if Elain had truly been his mate. Would he finally put you behind him? Would he have thrown the ring away again, for good this time? He knows he couldn't bring himself to even with the power of a mating bond. You were etched deep into his skin just like the bargain marks inked into his shoulders.

As the dinner moved on and they made their way to the sofas in the sitting room, his family was already more than lively. Mor had busted out one of Rhysand's old wine bottles, setting the mood for the rest of the night. Azriel had completely relaxed by then, letting himself enjoy their company, his shadows retreating almost completely around the room. Finally having some reprieve from the particularly insistent thoughts that were plaguing his mind today.

Cassian was telling a story he had heard a thousand times now but he still laughed along with everyone else. Listening to Cass tell the story so many times wouldn't make the fact that he had flown straight into a river any less funny. Azriel even remembered the following part, the one Cass doesn't include in the story which was after they pulled him out and he had gotten sick for a week, making him miss practice and lose every spar with him and Rhys for the next months.

Even old stories had a new life with new people around, it was the first time the sisters heard this one, judging by the slight tint to Nesta's cheeks as she laughed at her mate and how hard Feyre was clutching at Rhys' arm to ground herself. Even Elain was laughing hard enough that her body was shaking. Her laugh was soft and melodic, a lovely sound really, but it suddenly opened a familiar pit in his stomach. It reminded him of you. She wasn't quite as loud and her eyes didn't immediately water like yours but the way she raised her hand to her face was similar. And just like that the illusion of happiness he had created shattered.

She was nothing like you but he still found you in every thing she did, in everything anyone did. He couldn't go to half of the city's bakeries and shops without thinking of you and every moment you spent there. He had even changed rooms in every one of Rhysand's houses, not bearing to sleep in the same bed you had held him in. Everyone in the Inner Circle had learned to avoid certain topics, certain stories in fear they would remind him of you. Even your name was rarely mentioned unless he did so first or strictly necessary. Every thought of getting over you was nothing more than wishful thinking. It was like his entire soul was begging him to go to you, but you weren't anywhere in this world.

This had to be one of the worst parts of his routine lately, having to take extra care to school his features when spending time with his brothers and their mates. If his face showed any sign of how much he missed you, how much he wished he could hug you to him just like they can do with them, they would immediately look at him with pain in their eyes, pain for what he lost and will never get back.

It had taken too long to get used to how differently they treated him after what happened. He had to start a fight to get them to stop treating him like he could break at any second when it was the truth. They knew it as well as he did, but they also knew that they had to let Azriel mourn in his own way, that there was nothing they could do besides stay by his side.

You weren't mates - maybe the pain he feels would never compare to what his brothers would go through if their mates ever met the same fate as you - but that had never mattered to him. His soul sang for you the same way he sang for his shadows, you were written into his very being just like they were. And, most importantly, there wasn't a single fiber in his body that wanted to live without you.

Even a mate could never erase you from his memory, even if you had been alive. He doubts if a mating bond had snapped between you two at the time, you would have gotten any deeper into him than you already were. He can't imagine loving you, wanting you more than he already did was possible.

He felt his shadows move to him, almost sending them away thinking they were coming to comfort him again, hiding him from the world as usual. Their urgency gave them away, and by the way Rhysand's body tensed across from him he also had noticed something amiss.

“What happened?” The High Lord's voice cut through the atmosphere immediately, everyone looked to him for an explanation and got ready for any possibility. His entire body stood still when his shadows told him they felt someone winnowing into the townhouse.

“Someone's in the townhouse,” he stood up as he spoke, sending some of his shadows out to find out as much as they could and the rest around Velaris to check if there were any other disturbances.

“Who could get past the wards?” He felt a shield around them, Rhys had likely set it up around his house. Cassian's siphons were flickering red as they all prepared for what could come next. Velaris was more than well protected, especially after the attacks before the war, but the High Lord's homes were nearly impossible to get into uninvited, Azriel himself had helped make sure of it.

“I don't know,” he held onto Truth Teller as he waited for his shadows or his High Lord and Lady to find something. His shadows were being strangely lax about the whole situation, maybe this was someone who knew of a way to go around his gift, keep them distracted.

It took longer than usual to receive a response from them, making him and everyone around him more concerned by the second. By now everyone was donning a sword or weapon of some sort, only waiting on more information before splitting up to keep Velaris safe and find the intruders.

When his shadows finally appeared they wasted no time rushing to his ear, at last sensing his urgency in the matter. Their answer was one nothing could have prepared him for, his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.

His shadows came back carrying a once familiar tune. They came back singing your name.

[twogyuu]

the unoriginal villain origin story

Pairing: Jeonghan x fem!reader (ft. friend!Wonwoo)

Synopsis: In which Jeonghan and his friends recount the series of unfortunate events that led to you.

Alternatively, in which maybe leaving it up to fate Wonwoo is all Jeonghan really needed to do all along.

Genre: Fluff, crack, angst if you squint, cliche af, prequel to Thursday's Child Has Far to Go anthology, dilf!jeonghan, uncle!wonwoo (he's engaged LOL), part university!au, mild E2L (they're not really enemies, but OC definitely trying to stay AWAY from Jeonghan at first), one-sided turned mutual pining

Warnings: Profanity, mentions of food/alcohol, mildly suggestive (they just kiss and jeonghan likes skinship), reader is shorter than jeonghan, jeonghan changes hair color a couple times, wonwoo just swallows food without chewing like a maniac, proofread but not well, there are inconsistencies between this and easter egg's dropped about their relationship in other fics (i will fix that some day!)

wc: ~14.6k

A/N: I had so much trouble posting this T^T First long fic in a while🫶🏻 It's not my best story nor is it that deep, but made me feel all sorts of giddy 💞 I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing!

“So,” Leah starts with her mouth half-full, capturing the table’s attention. She’s quick to cover her lips and swallow her food before continuing. “I’m curious,” she points between Jeonghan and you, “How’d you two end up together? As long as I’ve known Wonwoo, you’ve been married.”

Immediately, Wonwoo snorts, nearly spitting out his dinner on his friend sitting across the table. Jeonghan scorns in disgust, frowning, offended as to why Wonwoo finds his fiance’s question amusing. In contrast, you seem to lose your appetite, silver fork clattering against your half-filled ceramic plate. You grow quiet, straightening your spine and avoiding eye contact like you were back in middle school, caught red-handed with a confession letter to your crush. 

“I honestly thought she was going to end up with Baekho – she loathed Jeonghan with a passion,” Wonwoo chuckles to himself as he redirects his chopsticks at your husband. “But Jeonghan knocked her up – that’s what happened.” 

“Okay,” Jeonghan is quick to defend. He sighs, shooting Wonwoo a bored, but annoyed look, “That’s not what happened – do you have to put it that way?” 

The other man only shrugs his shoulders, raising his palms to the sky playing innocent and oblivious. 

Leah’s eyes flicker back and forth between you and your husband, then sweet Nina. Leah’s innocent smile slowly fading as you neither confirmed or answered. She isn’t aware that this was a sensitive topic for you and Jeonghan, and the last thing she wants to do is offend her fiance’s friends! The two of you just seem to get along so well and so in love, for lack of a better description, it’s hard for Leah to imagine much malice as to how you met and got together. Yet, this raises the additional worrisome, unfounded suspicion: Did you and Jeonghan just get married out of convenience?

No – that couldn’t be! Wonwoo is a sensible man; he wouldn’t be laughing if it was a pitiful marriage of convenience. 

“She didn’t hate me,” Jeonghan starts to explain. 

“She blocked your number after the blind date,” Wonwoo interjects. 

You met during a blind date?

“It wasn’t even our blind date,” Jeonghan quickly shoots back. He clenches his jaw, clearly getting fed up with Wonwoo’s teasing. 

This is certainly interesting for Leah . . . Jeonghan frequently annoyed Wonwoo, not that the latter gave the older gentleman the reaction he wanted, but it is rare to see Wonwoo get under Jeonghan’s skin. 

“It wasn’t, which makes it all the funnier,” Wonwoo comments, “In fact, she was technically,” Wonwoo holds his fingers up in air quotes, “‘my blind date.’”

“I was merely doing you a favor by tagging along – and it was free food!” you finally exclaim, frowning at Wonwoo. 

Wonwoo waves you off, smirking, “Jeonghan was down bad.”

Confused, Leah holds up a hand to silence the bickering. She shakes her head, “Wait, wait, wait – please start from the beginning. I didn’t grow up with you guys, so I’m so lost.”

Like those corny rom-coms, you and Jeonghan turn to look at each other at the same time, exchanging a knowing, tired look. There’s a bashful tinge to your expression; interestingly, the corner of Jeonghan’s lips quirks up in a crooked, smug smile. 

Sure, you may have resisted (NOT hate) him at first, and Wonwoo can make fun of him all he wants, but it’s Yoon Jeonghan who won in the end. 

After all, you're sitting next to him at the dinner of your shared home as his wife and Nina's mom after all.

. . . . 

The day was near perfect for Wonwoo. 

His morning coding lecture was canceled, so he got to sleep in. Though there was a pop quiz in his Operating Systems class, he passed with flying colors for once. Wonwoo only had two classes today, finishing in the early afternoon, leaving the rest of the day to his leisure. He decided to celebrate by treating himself to some fancy coffee from the new bougie cafe that opened on the edge of campus before meeting up with a friend for a quick study session. Now, Wonwoo wasn't some latte snob, but there was something pleasant and relaxing about taking a quiet stroll around campus with his Airpods plugged in and an overpriced hot brew with several scoops of sugar and multiple pumps of mocha syrup in his hand. The weather on this autumn day was also just right – not too cold that he needed a windbreaker, but not too warm that his green and orange plaid flannel and yellow beanie combo didn’t make him sweat buckets. 

All was wonderful: It was just him and his overpriced bougie sweet sludge of caffeine. Indeed this campus was huge and he was surrounded by so many students rushing to class or laughing with their friends on the grass instead of studying; however, he felt anonymous and loved it. No one minded him, no one dared to bother him–

“Hey!” a familiar crack of a shrill interrupts IU’s sweet voice streaming through his ear piece. It’s accompanied by a bony and heavy hand clamping onto his shoulder, nearly yanking Wonwoo back and tumbling onto his ass if he didn’t catch his footing. 

Annoyed, Wonwoo pulled out his earbud and turned to face his menace of a friend: Yoon Jeonghan. He was panting, chocolate brown hair stuck to his forehead by sweat and sticking out in funny directions in the gentle breeze, as if he had been chasing Wonwoo for several minutes. 

“Why are you out of breath?” Wonwoo deadpanned. 

“I’ve been,” Jeonghan sucked in breath, “Running,” he heaved again, “After you! Calling your name! How loud is your music? God – you’ve been spending too much time with Hansol.” Jeonghan adjusted the straps of his backpack, making a point to roll his shoulder back dramatically. 

“Sorry,” Wonwoo muttered, fingers tapping his screen to pause his music. “Um, what do you need? Can I help you?” He cleared his throat, keeping eye contact with Jeonghan as he took a sip of his coffee, presuming it cooled down by now. 

“Go on a date with me,” Jeonghan said.

Wonwoo choked, the mocha liquid spilling from between his lips, accidentally spraying the hem of Jeonghan’s gray t-shirt.

“Wonwoo!” Jeonghan screamed, jumping back. 

The said man was quick to dab his lips with the back of his hand, coughing in the process. 

“What the fuck, dude!” Jeonghan groaned, brushing at his shirt. “Good thing I didn’t wear white today.”

“I’m sorry, but what?” Wonwoo exclaimed. A few passing students throw confused glances in their directions. Wonwoo lowered his voice and quickly added, “Look – I know we’re good friends and I like you – as a friend, and I respect you, but I don’t swing that way.”

Probably thirty seconds passed by as Wonwoo waited impatiently for his friend to explain his request further. Jeonghan’s expression only grows unreadable, his brows softening as he let’s go of his shirt, lips drooping into a frown. Taking Wonwoo by surprise, Jeonghan roughly grabbed Wonwoo’s wrist and pulled him close. He tried to pull back, but for a twink, Jeonghan’s grip was strong.

“I’ve loved you for so long! I can’t believe you won’t–” 

Thwack!

“Hey!” Wonwoo’s hands come flying to the back of his head at the pain shooting up neck. 

“No, you dumbass!” Jeonghan finally sounding like himself again, “I’m asking you to come on a blind date with me – to keep me safe and keep me company, of course. Save me when I give you the look.”

“The look?” Wonwoo asked, still rubbing the base of his head.

“You know,” Jeonghan widened his eyes and clenched his jaw, extending his neck like a giraffe. “That look.”

“Right,” Wonwoo replied slowly – as if he knew what that meant. He waved his friend off. “Sorry – I can’t though. I also don’t want to third wheel.”

“Why not!” Jeonghan groaned. 

“I’m busy.”

“Aren’t we all?” 

“I’m meeting a friend.”

“Bring your friend!” Jeonghan grabbed Wonwoo’s arm desperately, “Or anyone really. Please! I just don’t want to go on this date alone.”

“You hit me – why would I?” Wonwoo teased back. “Also, why’d you agree to the blind date if you don’t want to go?”

“I owe it to Seungcheol,” Jeonghan groaned. “I’m going in his stead – something having a girl.”

“Ah,” Wonwoo nodded, the pieces coming together. The two friends were close and had a history of exchanging blind dates and sending one versus the other – a weird pact they developed in their freshman year of university. He suddenly scrunched his brows together, a new question forming on the tip of his tongue. “Wait – Seungcheol has a girl?”

Jeonghan doesn’t seem to care, however. “So?” 

“So?” Wonwoo repeated back, confused 

“I’ll pay for food,” Jeonghan offered. 

As if on cue, Wonwoo’s stomach growled. The two of them peer down at his abdomen, then back at each other. He was a growing, but broke college student – his fridge didn’t contain much yesterday, and even less today. 

Rubbing his belly, he replied quietly, “I guess I can think of someone.”

“Great!” Jeonghan brightened immediately. “7PM, tomorrow – don’t be late!”

. . . .

[Wonwoo]: Want free food?

. . . .

[Y/N]: This is NOT what I envisioned when you said ‘free food’ >:(

Pushing his black-rimmed spectacles up his nose bridge, Wonwoo looked up at his phone, offering you a sheepish, but apologetic smile, from across the table. He gave you a small shrug, scrunching his lips and bowing his head slightly to silently say ‘sorry.’ The sincerity of his apology doesn’t seem to go through though, as you only sigh heavily and roll your eyes. 

Violently, you stabbed your wooden chopstick into the pork belly sizzling in front of you. Not minding to blow at it, quickly, you stuck in your mouth, instantly regretting your decision, of course as the heat burnt a piece of your tongue. You jolted a little, eyes beginning to water.

And then, he does it – again. 

Sleeves of his brown sweater rolled up to his elbow, he reached over the steaming grill and placed a freshly refilled, full glass of ice water in front of you.

Hand hovering over your lip, your eyes flicker to Jeonghan. Lips pressed into a thin, but genuinely warm, crooked smile, his deep brown eyes, once round curves into half moons under the overgrown bangs of his soft cool brown hair (which was growing blotchy and brassy, if you might add). Though you were curious why he looked at you with such disgusting saccharine dripping from his eyes that may or may not have made you feel some type of way, you don’t let your gaze linger for long to figure out why. You were quick to turn your shoulder towards him, covering your steaming mouth and concentrating on a crack in the old oak windowsill. 

It had been like this since five minutes into the (now that you know) double blind date. You’re not sure how the seating arrangement ended up this way when you and Wonwoo were just here in support, but Jeonghan sat next to you, Dami across from you, and Wonwoo diagonally position. His date, Dami, sat across from him, but Jeonghan seemed to pay minimal mind to her, answering her questions politely, but vaguely. 

Perhaps you were just thinking too much about it, but Jeonghan was paying more attention to you. He laughed a little too loud at your blunt remarks, you caught him staring in your direction one too many times, and was a little too attentive at what was in your bowl. You made a point to ask Wonwoo about it after. 

The gestures seemed sweet until you took a step back and got a larger view of the situation: Two facts were certain.

One – You weren’t close with Jeonghan despite sharing Wonwoo and a few others as a mutual friend. Yet his reputation was notorious as it was confusing. Neither quite the fuck boy nor the campus hearthrob (that title belonged to his friend, Seungcheol), Yoon Jeonghan was a silent menace to collegiate society. He was gorgeous – a deep set of dark brown eyes framed by long velvet lashes, his features were gentle, yet somehow dynamic and sharp. His warm smile ignited hearts across campus, but no one dared confess to him: His intentions (or the lack thereof) were known far and wide: Yoon Jeonghan did not date. He was cordial, perhaps sometimes a mischievous flirt if bored, but his true kindness did not go out easily. It was not known why he didn’t date, a man that beautiful could snatch someone up with a bat of his lashes and flick of his finger. Some of your friends had said he had a long distance girlfriend on the other side of the country, others have proposed he was afraid of commitment and a closet fuck boy – kept his flings under wraps. He was close with the soccer team after all. 

With all of this “knowledge” about him in mind, that led you to the second point: Jeonghan was Dami’s blind date. There’s a piece of you that is curious as to why Jeonghan agreed to a blind date with Dami – not in a toxic or jealous way of course. Her jet black hair trimmed into a short, messy but stylish shag bob, her features resembling that of a wide-eyed kitten, Dami was indeed cute. You didn’t know much about her, however; no money to her name, she wasn’t particularly popular or desired in that way on campus, did not participate in sports or clubs, and you’re not even sure how she was linked to Jeonghan in the first place. 

Perhaps this was Dami’s big love story: the campus enigma takes interest in an ordinary girl and whisks her away to live an adventurous life after graduation. 

The catch though?

Dami didn’t seem interested in Jeonghan at all. 

In fact, hearts were literally shooting out of her eyes at Wonwoo. 

“So, uh,” Dami cleared her throat, her eyes flickered up to Wonwoo then you before returning back to the boy on her side. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she asked, “Are the two of you . . .?”

Wonwoo choked on his lettuce, followed by your awkward cough. Much to both of your surprises, Jeonghan also nearly spat out his water at Wonwoo. A moment of silence at the table lingered, the three of you glancing at each other, while Dami sat back in her seat trying to make sense of the situation; though frankly, you and Wonwoo were equally confused as to why Jeonghan reacted so volatilely too. 

“We’re just friends,” Wonwoo finally piped up. He cleared his throat, dabbing the invisible stain in the corner of his lip with the napkin. 

You nodded vigorously in confirmation. 

“Oh? Okay,” Dami said softly, a little breathless. There’s a small twitch of the corner of her lip, threatening to stretch into a grin, but she caught herself, offering the table a tight smile instead. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Jeonghan visibly relax, quietly returning to the meat grilling in front of him. 

The rest of the dinner proceeded without any choking mishaps – it was fairly nice, honestly. You decided that you actually really liked Dami. Despite her cat-like appearance and coy nature, she was lively and innocent. Her crush on Wonwoo was evident and you found it endearing, though your friend might not. 

In regards to Jeonghan, his nonchalant, yet caring nature carried on throughout the night; it even got Wonwoo raising his brows curiously. You do your best to not pay mind to him, but every now and then, you find yourself heating up at the sound of his deep laughter.

After bidding the pair goodbye and exchanging phone numbers with Dami, you and Wonwoo set off for your shared apartment complex. You lived in the same building, him on the second floor, you on the fourth floor. 

Unable to contain your curiosity much longer, you check behind you to make sure Jeonghan is a good distance away before nudging Wonwoo’s elbow. He looked at you, unamused, silently asking you what you wanted. 

You began, “Hey, this is a weird question and I know you were just there for moral support and free food, but did you get the feeling that Jeonghan–” 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo confirmed, already knowing the answer to your unfinished question. You stutter in your steps, putting you a few feet behind him. Wonwoo continued forward, showing no signs of slowing down for your confused state. He hollered back, “He’s definitely into you.”

It made you feel some type of way, but you can’t decide if it’s a good type of way or you didn’t like it all together. Your heart beats funny for the first time in years – it was reminiscent of when you developed a crush in middle school, but different due to the uncertainty of this feeling. Unbeknownst to you, Wonwoo’s comment made you come to a halt altogether, quietly contemplating in the middle of the sidewalk while strangers walked around you. 

As if on cue, just as Wonwoo noticed your absence lingering behind him, he turned to find Jeonghan actually running willingly, fast approaching behind you. He touched your elbow, interrupting your daze and you turned around slowly to greet him. Wonwoo can’t make out your expression, but he could only imagine, you looked lost like a guppy in the sewers. On the other hand, Jeonghan’s expression was very visible and clear: his friend was beaming; subtly in his smiles and soft in his eyes, but beaming nonetheless. 

One would think Jeonghan had something important to tell you given the way he sprinted nearly a block to catch up to you, heaving between words, but his message was rather simple. 

“It was really nice meeting you, Y/N.”

Yet, for some reason, it made all the impact. 

. . . .

“Please!” Jeonghan hissed, stabbing Wonwoo’s side with the tip of his pencil. Wonwoo winced away, shooting daggers in his friend’s direction. He was trying to use this spare few hours between classes to study for his finals in the serenity and quiet of the library. His friends knew around this time of the semester, Wonwoo didn’t like to be disturbed, but it just so happened that Jeonghan had an urgent request, prompting him to track down the computer engineering major to his sacred, hidden spot of the law school library. “Can you give me her number? It’s not that hard!”

Though irritating, Wonwoo did find this version of Yoon Jeonghan was very entertaining as much as it was enthralling as Jeonghan never took this much interest in anyone or anything. He wanted to let his intrusive thoughts win and indulge in it. 

The two of you were like night and day. Whereas, you spoke your feelings, wants, and needs openly, Jeonghan never dared to do so. His requests were cryptic, embedded questions pertaining to the objective, rather than what his heart desired truly. You had your mind set on a goal; Jeonghan was one to flow and ebb with the waters of life. 

However, though neither of you knew it yet, there was a beguiling bone in the both of you. It depended on how it played out whether it’d unite the both of you or send you apart. At this point, it was unironically up to Wonwoo if he wanted to be the third player in this game. t

Wonwoo scoffed, shaking his head. 

“What?” Jeonghan frowned. 

“Do you want it that bad?” Wonwoo asked. He pressed his friend further. “And why?”

Jeonghan closed his mouth as quick as he opened it, retracting the rationale at the tip of his tongue. A good gambler never shows his cards first. His eyes flickered, contemplating his next few words more carefully before adjusting his posture and continuing. 

“Just because,” Jeonghan replied nonchalantly. 

Wonwoo chuckled, not surprised. 

“If you’re just going to fuck around with her heart, I’d rather not,” Wonwoo replied, shrugging. 

And it was true – you were the same age, but to some extent, you felt like a long-lost younger sister to Wonwoo. 

“Hey,” Jeonghan punched him lightly. There was a slight warning tone as he was frowning even more, well aware of what Wonwoo was referring to. Jeonghan has never bothered to clarify the rumors of his dating life, thinking it too much work, but that didn’t mean he liked them either. “You know that’s not true and I would never.”

“Then admit it,” Wonwoo shot back. 

“Admit what?!” Jeonghan flailed his hands wildly, earning a few dirty looks from the studious students a few tables away.  

“You want Y/N’s number because you’re interested.”

“Th-that’s not it,” Jeonghan muttered weakly. “I mean, yes? But also no? I just . . . want to know her better – you know, as a friend . . . first.”

Crossing his arm over his chest, Wonwoo nodded, feigning agreement. “Right, right.”

“Wonwoo,” Jeonghan protested. 

When he didn’t respond, Jeonghan groaned loudly, flopping back in his spinning chair dramatically. 

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll find someone else to give it to me,” Jeonghan threatened. 

“And risk other people questioning why you want to contact Y/N?” Wonwoo teased. He shot Jeonghan a shit-eating grin, “You know what they’re all going to think, right?”

“Jeon Wonwoo, when did you get so fucking irritating?” 

Wonwoo leaned forward, waving his finger for Jeonghan to get closer. The latter hesitated for a second before giving in. 

“If there’s one thing you should know about Y/N,” Wonwoo started in a hushed voice, “You’re not the first one to ask for her number.”

“So?” Jeonghan asked incredulously, “Why should that matter?”

“Just saying,” Wonwoo leaned back, resting his hands on the nape of his neck, “Don’t be surprised if she turns you down – she doesn’t like to mess around. She’s not really . .  . actively looking to date right now either, honestly. Something about careers and being her ‘me’ era.” At the time, Jeonghan wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was sure content with the way Wonwoo ripped a corner of his notebook and scribbled down your digits. “You should be grateful we’re friends – she asked me not to hand out her number the first time I gave it to Johnny Suh.”

He handed the scrap over to Jeonghan, who beamed as if it was the golden ticket from Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. 

May Yoon Jeonghan be the last to ask for your number. 

Wonwoo called after Jeonghan, “In return, all I ask is that you don’t tell Y/N you got the number from me.”

“Why?” Jeonghan asked, adjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder as he stood up from his desk. 

Wonwoo rubbed his neck sheepishly, tips of his ear turning red. “I also don’t want her passing out my number – it’s a pact we made, kinda.”

It all clicked for Jeonghan then, if not more. “Don’t worry,” Jeonghan waved, “I’ll send Dami a text.”

“Hey!”

. . . .

[Jeonghan]: Hey – this is Yoon Jeonghan :) 

[Jeonghan]: I got it from Wonwoo hehehe.

[Y/N Y/L/N]: ???

[Jeonghan]: Hello?

[Y/N Y/L/N]: [your message not delivered]

. . . .

You don’t hear from Jeonghan after the double blind date.

Not that you were anticipating it, but still– Wonwoo said he was into you and then he chased you down a block to tell you it was nice to meet you!

Ugh – the bar was so damn low. 

On the other hand, you do hear from Dami, the two of you quickly becoming better friends. She reached out to you on Instagram, playful chatter turning into occasional hangouts and then weekly coffee runs or walking to the general vicinity of your classes together in between lectures. You were suspicious at first, wondering if she was using you to get closer to Wonwoo, but her intentions seemed sincere. Indeed, she did ask about Wonwoo every now and then, eventually also asking if he was seeing anyone, you didn’t find it particularly annoying. She still wanted to be your friend and understood boundaries, choosing to admire from afar and up close when the opportunity presents. 

It also turned out that Wonwoo wasn’t the only one who sensed there was something up about Jeonghan at the blind date as Dami brought it up months later when you passed the barbeque restaurant where you all met that fateful day on a stroll. At this point, you’d like to think Jeonghan became a distant memory – just a fleeting interaction, but there are times that you do catch yourself wondering about him. You wonder what he’s up to, wonder if he’s gone on more blind dates, what would have happened if you were a little more forward and you reached out. 

“Oh,” Dami waved you off when you asked about how she got Jeonghan to agree to a blind date with her. “I was just as surprised as the rest of you – that blind date was actually supposed to be with Choi Seungcheol, but I’m not sure what happened. He’s cute, but Jeonghan’s not really my type.”

“I see,” you nodded, feeling a sense of relief for some weird reason. You snuggle your hands deeper into the pockets of your puffer jacket. 

A beat passed before Dami asked slowly, “Is Jeonghan your type though?”

You peer down at the shorter girl, quirking a curious eyebrow. 

“What?” she asked innocently. “It was totally obvious – he was head over heels for you.”

“As if,” you scoffed. “We literally just met that night.”

She bumped your shoulder lightly. “Ey, haven’t you heard of love at first sight?”

“I don’t believe in love at first sight,” you corrected her. “I hardly know him and vice versa; how is he supposed to like me already?”

“It’s just . . . a vibe, I guess,” Dami tried to reason, “He liked your vibe.”

“Very scientific,” you replied sarcastically.

“I’m just saying,” Dami shrugged, “I may be a hopeless romantic, but I’ve never seen Jeonghan act out like that before.”

“Did you know him prior?” you asked curiously. 

Dami hummed, tapping her finger to her chin. “I knew of him and I’ve seen him here and there, but I never talked to him like that. Our circles never really overlapped, other than Seungcheol. Knowledge by observation – Jeonghan’s not really . . . he’s . . . gosh, kind of hard to explain.”

“How so?” your interest was piqued. 

“I don’t know . . . the way he talks . . . it feels like he’s flirting with everyone, but it’s never serious and he’s actually not? You’d think with how playful he is, he’d be an asshole,” Dami fumbled with her words. 

You felt your heart sink a little. “So what I’m hearing is . . . this was probably lust at best.”

“No! With you, it was different though! Agh – fuck, wish I was better with words,” Dami protested. 

“Doesn’t sound different.”

“Is he your type though?” Dami pressed again, nonetheless. 

You took a moment to contemplate, head skimming through your celebrity crushes, things you liked in old exes, things you didn’t like as you learned, growing up. Again, you hardly knew Jeonghan, but you’re slowly starting to piece together the person he seemed to be. He was the kind of man your mother warned you about: good-looking, sweet with their words and actions, but unpredictable – in a bad kind of way. 

Eventually, you shook your head, letting out a heavy breath. “Not really – he’s . . . too pretty,” you replied, “Wouldn’t bat an eye on him if I saw him on the metro.” Your voice trailed off as you were not in a mood to explain yourself further. Despite the certainty in your voice, the answer didn’t seem to settle well into your body, making you feel squeamish, a heavy sensation landing in your chest.  

So what if Jeonghan wasn’t your type?

Dami hummed in understanding, “I can see that.” She kicked the ball of snow in front of her. “Well then, it’s a good thing you won’t see him again, right?”

“Right.”

“What is your type then?” Dami asked. She quickly added, “Just asking for funsies.”

You smiled, appreciative that she’d indulge in your delusions every now and then. 

Just as you parted your lips to start, a deep voice bellowed your name from afar in front of the both of you. Dami and you lift your heads from the icy pavement, to find a broad young man standing a few feet away. His jacket was unzipped, sweater hanging loosely from his shoulders, just enough so that you can see his tattoo peeking out from underneath the collar. He grinned wide, eyes turning into crescents under his thick brows, cheeks and the tip of nose pink. 

“B-Baekho,” you stammered. Your lips wobble nervously as if they couldn’t decide whether to smile or hide the way your heart fluttered at the sight of him. “Hey.”

Despite your long-time crush standing before you, you had to make a conscious effort to quell the lingering thoughts of Jeonghan in the back of your mind. 

. . . .

You were wrong – you would see Yoon Jeonghan again. 

You and Jeonghan shared more mutual friends than you had thought. 

It’s Soonyoung’s birthday party. You’re not sure why, Soonyoung was full of surprises, but he invited a handful of his friends out to the outdoor ice skating rink about half an hour from campus. The plan was to hang out there for the afternoon before returning to his apartment for an evening of festivities. 

Jeonghan had changed his appearance since you last saw him. His once dark brown hair was now bleach blonde – he’d grown it out, the dark roots peaking through, but the bright ends hung shaggily, skimming over his long velvet lashes. At the chalet while lacing up his skates, he still donned those skittish grins and playful smirks whenever he was teasing his other friends, elbowing them and throwing his head back in a deep laughter, in contrast to his soft voice most days. 

You do your best to avoid him, sticking close with Dami (Soonyoung let you bring a plus one) on the rink or choosing to sit close to Wonwoo who opted to stay inside and watch from the chalet. Dami does a pretty good job keeping you busy, anyhow – the girl could hardly skate, clinging onto the walls and calling for you every time you strayed too far. It was moments like this you were thankful your mother put you in ice skating for a brief moment in your youth before you vehemently quit in fourth grade, terrified by the stories of professional figure skaters needing hip surgery and waking up early every Saturday for lessons. It also seemed like Jeonghan was facing the same challenge with the birthday boy. Out of the corner of your eyes every now and then, you’d catch a glimpse of Soonyoung bent over at a 90 degree angle, hands outstretched clinging onto Jeonghan’s hands like his life depended on it. 

“Y/N!” Dami called for the umpteenth time that afternoon. “Y/N! Hey!”

You huffed, growing tired of slowing down for your friend. You loved her! Don’t get it wrong, it’s just you wanted at least one round, where you could whiz around the rink and awaken those skater muscles you once built. 

You spun around to face her, skating backwards. “Dami, I think we should get you one of those skating walkers–”

“No, you idiot!” she cried, pointing behind you aggressively, “Watch out!”

Her warning proved too late, however. By the time you faced forward again, you came crashing into a familiar blob of white puffer and a high-pitched, but husky shriek. A set of arms wrapped around your body and you curled yourself inwards, allowing yourself to take refuge into whoever had been your demise and your savior. Mittens clinging onto the slippery material of their coat, you squeeze your eyes shut, letting your fumbling feet still so no one tripped and you both fell. 

The both of you eventually hit the side of the rink, eliciting a quiet ‘umph’ from the mystery person. The trauma of the impact seemed to linger a little longer; you were afraid to open your eyes to see yourself sailing towards a whole crowd of people despite feeling yourself still. 

“Um,” the person shifted uncomfortably. They tapped your shoulder before trying to peel you off of them, “Y-you can let go.”

You peel your lids open, one by one, cautiously to make sure you were no longer moving. Eventually, you relax, pulling back a little – still holding on nonetheless. 

The person cleared their throat, prompting you to look up. 

Fuck.

Jeonghan gave you a tight lipped smile, “Hey.”

“Uh, hi,” you replied, awkwardly. 

“You can let go now,” he looked around, leaning back into the board, “People are staring.”

“Oh, right,” you pushed yourself back, letting your skates drift you away. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jeonghan pretended to be busy and brushed off the invisible wrinkles in his coat. 

A beat passed as he straightened out, catching your gaze and letting it linger. You feel your heartbeat hastened, his stare making you nervous and stirring up other feelings in your stomach, but you don’t dare look away – it was weirdly addicting. 

“Um well,” Jeonghan finally said, he nodded once, “It was nice seeing you around.”

You panicked, launching yourself towards him and catching his elbow. “Wait!”

Jeonghan threw you a confused look over his shoulder, quietly waiting for you to continue. 

“W-wait,” you whispered again under your breath. You inhaled harshly, eyes flickering up to meet him before dropping them to his black and white, scuffed rental skates. “D-do you maybe . . . wanna get hot cocoa?” You pointed back at the chalet and Jeonghan followed your mittens. 

He paused, expression unreadable. His brows knitted together, lips pressing into a thin line. He looks all over the place except for you, finally coming to a conclusion and answering, “Sure.”

“Cool,” you nodded.

He was the first to leave, skating towards the entrance of the rink. 

You followed quietly. 

Dami and Soonyoung watched from afar, both kneeling on the ice, one hand on the side board as their saviors left them to fend on their own. 

. . . .

The chalet was bustling with life: mothers with their young children in tow, friends bundled in layers as they waddled unsteadily in their skates towards the entrance, and others strewn across the wooden tables and benches. The young teens behind the cafe counter were certainly sweating away running between the cash register and the food warmers and coffee machines behind them. 

Jeonghan had graciously paid for your hot chocolates – not without a fight of course. You didn’t really want your drink to come with drinks attached. The two of you found a small table tucked away near the parking lot. It was a little quieter in this area, a little colder as well with the people coming and going. Nerves wracked your stomach as you tried to be as calm as possible, hopeful that he wouldn’t notice the regret lacing your entire body right now. You wonder if you got a concussion during that collision to even have the gall to invite him for a drink  after all these months. 

What would you even talk about? It’s not like your conversations during the double date were that deep. Let alone, who were you that he’d remember details about you?

The words exchanged between you and Jeonghan were far and few since the collision on ice – they were more so out of necessity. What you wanted to drink specifically, where you wanted to sit, be careful not to run into the kid whizzing across the chalet main floor. 

“You blocked my number,” Jeonghan blurted, interrupting your musing. You were only two sips into your hot chocolate, lips lifting off the rim of your white paper cup. He noted how the brown liquid faintly stained the rim where they once rested.

Jeonghan couldn’t hold it in much longer – the question was ruminating in the back of his mind for the past few months like an annoying fly they couldn’t swat in the house in the summer. He did his damn best to “let it go” like everyone said because “maybe it wasn’t meant to be.” However, it must mean something to have quite literally run into you now and you asked him to drink hot chocolate with you in the chalet, right? He wanted and needed to know your intentions.

Jeonghan watched you intently from the opposite side of the bench, your bustling surroundings melting away. You seemed to be in your own world, your silence ensuing. He noted how your left eyebrow twitched momentarily as if you were confused. It was quick to turn sly, your brow softening again, your lips curving into an amused smirk. It sent chills down Jeonghan’s spine to see your demeanor flip so quickly when you were coy moments earlier. Gears were turning – almost like you were plotting something. 

“And?” you asked, bringing up your paper cup of hot chocolate to your lips, the rim covering half of your face. 

Jeonghan snorted, shaking his head – the audacity!

“Yet, you’re asking to have a drink together?” Jeonghan continued. 

“How’d you get my number in the first place?” you asked instead. You raised a curious eyebrow. 

Jeonghan narrowed his gaze, setting his paper cup down roughly with a loud ‘clack’. The warm liquid sloshed around, threatening to spill over. “It’s rude to answer a question by asking another question.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, leaning forward towards him as if to challenge him; pressing Jeonghan to answer your question rather than vice versa. However, what you didn’t know was that Jeonghan was a different breed of man. He did not fall easily under pressure in the presence of a woman he was attracted to – he could sit here in awkward silence as long as you wanted. 

You’re not sure how long this showdown actually lasted, losing track of time. Seconds to minutes past, your drinks turned lukewarm and condensation formed on the inside of the unfilled regions of the cup. Admittedly, Jeonghan did grow more frustrated with you; yet he remained hopeful you’d crack. No one could withstand the “Yoon stare,” as Seokmin had dubbed it a few months prior at a drinking party. Nonetheless, perhaps he was a masochist, because for some reason, he was enjoying the company of someone who could keep up with him. 

“Yah!” a shrill comes from across the room. 

It was only a matter of seconds before Soonyoung, tip of his nose pink, came stomping over, removed his waterproof glove, and smacked the back of Jeonghan’s shoulder. Dami wasn’t far behind, though less upset. She threw you a questioning look, one that told you that you were going to have to explain yourself afterwards. 

“And you!” Soonyoung pointed an accusing finger at you. He then pointed it back and forth between you and Jeonghan. “You both suck leaving us stranded and helpless on the ice! You know, a couple of twelve-year-olds had to help us off! Took us almost twenty minutes!”

You shot Soonyoung an apologetic look, muttering a quiet ‘sorry’ before he quipped again, asking, “Also, like . . .” His eyes darted at the cups of hot chocolate and the way you were arranged at the table. Pieces began to click together. “What is this?” he tried to sound angry, “A date or something? I didn’t even know you guys knew each other!”

“Yeah,” Dami piped up, “A date or something?”

You coughed at this, turning your head away from them. 

Jeonghan made a note of this, raising a curious brow, before turning to Soonyoung. He shrugged and answered, “Or something.”

“Ugh,” Soonyoung groaned, “So you guys are like that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jeonghan asked. 

Soonyoung opened his mouth to answer, but Dami was quick to cut him off, an agenda of her own brewing. “Soonyoung, wanna grab a bite? And maybe some hot chocolate? My treat? We can go sit by Chan and Wonwoo over there.”

“But–”

“Great!”

Dami winked at Jeonghan, quickly pushing the birthday boy away. 

Jeonghan was really curious now. He turned back to you, who was still pretending to be fascinated by the old linoleum floors and the tips of your worn winter boots. 

“Yah,” Jeonghan called. 

You looked up, lips pursed. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said. 

“And you didn’t answer mine,” you replied. 

“Are you usually this irritating?”

“I don’t know, am I?”

Jeonghan let out a huff, blowing his blonde bangs. 

You were reaching for your cup and started to rise from your seat. 

“Hey, where are you–”

“You look better with brown hair by the way,” you deadpanned. You pointed at your own head, “It looked . . . healthier that way.”

Those were your last words before you set off towards Wonwoo’s and Chan’s table to join the others. 

If you were just anyone, Jeonghan might have shot some sassy comment back at your insult.  However, like never before, Jeonghan suddenly became anxious – as if you were slipping away like a balloon streamer threatening to drift away from a child’s hand in a windstorm. He felt his heart beginning to race and tongue took control of him. He spun in his seat and blurted after you instead, “Will I see you again?”

You paused in your stride before throwing a confused and mildly annoyed look over your shoulder. Your expression was quick to shift though. A shit-eating grin slowly stretching across your face, you explained casually, “Life . . . is full of surprises, Yoon Jeonghan. Only time can tell.” You raise your cup towards him in a final salute. 

“Touche,” Jeonghan muttered under his breath. .

Jeonghan watched you settle next to Wonwoo, bumping shoulders with your friend who only shot you an annoyed look when he raised his head from his book. Pushing his black-rimmed glasses up his nose, he said something, eliciting a frown and sending you into a pout. It must’ve been a tease because Wonwoo started to chuckle. 

Suddenly, another figure entered the scene – a well-built young man, bundled in a navy blue parka that framed his figure in a masculine manner. He had a broad set of shoulders and a thin waist – oh, he definitely worked out. To make matters worse, he was handsome: a sharp jaw and slim nose, his eyes seemingly cold due to their shape, but his gaze, at least towards you, was soft and warm. A pair of matching navy blue earmuffs donned either side of his face; his hair was immaculately well-styled in a side slick despite the wind outside. Jeonghan wondered how much gel he must’ve used to keep it that way. The man greeted you with a few word, possibly a question to sit next to you as far as Jeonghan could tell, because you nodded and scooted over to make room for him. The young man is grinning, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, eyes curving into crescents and he settled in, shoulders bumping against yours. Wonwoo was smooshed up the side of the wall, seemingly displeased though continued to read uninterrupted. Jeonghan found it all the more interesting just how friendly and smiley you were with him relative to himself just moments earlier. 

Jeonghan would never admit it out loud, but it kind of . . . infuriated him? An unsettling feeling overcame his chest, Jeonghan unknowingly shifting in his seat, fingers crushing the paper cup of hot chocolate a little tighter.

“You’re jealous,” Seungcheol said, approaching his best friend behind. 

Jeonghan looked up then back to you. “Am not.”

“I saw you guys sitting together earlier,” Seungcheol remarked. 

“Yeah – she offered.”

“Oh?”

“But then totally blew me off.”

“Yet, all chummy with Mr. Broad and Handsome, over there,” Seungcheol spoke his mind. He chuckled like the asshole he could be.

“Shut up, will you?” Jeonghan snapped. 

“Jealous?” Seungcheol patted his back. 

“Am not!” Jeonghan screeched a little too defensively.

Seungcheol shook his head, doing his best to suppress his growing grin.

“Then answer me this,” Seungcheol started, “For some reason, despite not knowing much about her, despite her ‘blowing you off,’ there’s a piece of you that still wants to get to know her better. Am I right?”

Jeonghan paused for a moment, considering his friend’s words. Never had Seungcheol made him feel so conflicted. It wouldn’t make sense for him to want to get to know you better after that rude encounter, but the tension from earlier was . . . thrilling? Also, in your defense, you weren’t exactly intentionally rude – he had accused you first of flaking on him, still unclear if you actually did or didn’t. It was kind of addicting and a piece of him was curious as to how far he could push you and vice versa. 

An enigma he couldn’t resolve. 

“I-I guess?”

Seungcheol clapped suddenly, each one staccato and slow. “And so, Yoon Jeonghan meets his match.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jeonghan asked. 

Seungcheol shrugged, “You’ll see – only time can tell.”

That’s what she said. 

. . . .

“How did Jeonghan get my phone number?” 

“He did?”

“Apparently, he did – but I didn’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You tell me.”

Wonwoo shrugged. 

“You said he was into me.”

“What about you? Are you into him?”

Silence.

. . . .

It’s the early spring, a month before graduation, when you see each other again – much to Jeonghan’s dismay. 

Many things have changed, one of them being that Dami and Soonyoung started dating a couple of weeks after their traumatic encounter on the ice. They’re sickeningly cute, but the important thing was that they made so much sense. Though they were still early on in their relationship, it could very well just be the ‘honeymoon phase,’ but fights were far and few between. They were two wholesome souls with hardworking drives, lifting each other up, yet also somehow knowing what the other needs. All it took was a simple glance from across the room, Jeonghan would imagine some sort of telepathy going on between them before Soonyoung waddled over Dami and whispered a few words to her, her glum expression brightening instantaneously and vice versa.

Even Jeonghan couldn’t help but feel warm and fuzzy at the sight of them. A part of him was envious. Not in a toxic sense, but also longing when he’d meet his soulmate like that – not that he was some hopeless romantic and believed in soulmates or anything (he’d like to think had some agency in choosing his partner, rather than leaving it up to the good old hands of fate), but there was a nice feeling to the thought of being with someone who just got you like that. 

Many things had also not changed, the main one being his perennial quest to get close to you. 

Or perhaps rather, the lack thereof. 

Jeonghan spent the last several months debating if he should contact you again. You blocked his number; would it be right of him to slide into your Instagram DM’s? You didn’t follow one another, however, which made things all the more complex.

Yet, your last few words lingered in the back of his mind: Life is full of surprises, Yoon Jeonghan. Only time can tell.

What did that even mean? Were you hinting at him to pursue you? Was that your way of avoiding him?

Ironically, Jeonghan relented and decided to leave this up to fate. Seungcheol urged him to reach out to you, claiming the worst thing you could say to him was ‘no’, but Jeonghan wasn’t sure he could handle that currently – not when you left off on such a weird note. 

Maybe whatever gods out there were on his side, however, because Jeonghan ran into again at a karaoke bar. The two of you had more mutual friends than you thought – or rather really, you ended up being Wonwoo’s plus one to all these things, showing up glued to his hip. 

Neon color lights dance across the dark room with tacky, faux leather orange benches, as Minghao and Seokmin sing a trot rendition of Beyonce’s ‘All the Single Ladies,’ the latter somehow acquiring a sogo drum and beating an out of tune rhythm across the room. You were tucked away in a corner wedged in between Wonwoo and that handsome man from the chalet again. Despite the lively energy, you were only quietly swaying, seemingly lost in another world. The handsome man (Jeonghan had come to learn that his name was ‘Baekho’) whispered something in your ear every now and then, maybe checking up on you, but you’d only respond with a tight smile, quick to divert your eyes from him to your hands. Jeonghan couldn’t decide if it was out of coyness or you weren’t truly up to being here tonight. 

Jeonghan didn’t try to sit next to you when he arrived. For one reason being he’d arrived late so you were already settled and didn’t pay mind to him. The other reason being he didn’t want to raise suspicions trying to wedge himself between you and Baekho. 

Just what was exactly your relationship with Baekho? With how he seemed to whisper so tenderly to your ear, Jeonghan was almost inclined to think you were dating, but your eyes seemed so . . . hollow? It wasn’t quite the same as the way Dami’s orbs lit up when she saw Soonyoung. 

“Quit staring,” Seungcheol elbowed Jeonghan, interrupting his musing. Jeonghan winced, shooting Seungcheol a dirty look. 

“I wasn’t,” Jeonghan remarked. 

Seungcheol waved off his friend. “You should go talk to her – or at least say ‘hi.’”

“And why would I do that?” Jeonghan retorted stupidly, instantly regretting the words that just spewed from his mouth. 

His best friend gave him an incredulous look. “This is the first time you see her in months and that’s what you’re telling me? Please! You’re about to burn holes into Baekho’s head with those laser eyes of yours – no one is not not noticing the way your eyes keep lingering over to them.”

“Who am I to interfere with whatever they have?” Jeonghan waved his hand at some abstract object in the air as if it represented your relationship with Baekho. 

“Yoon Jeonghan – that’s who,” Seungcheol shoved him roughly, nearly sending him sailing out of his seat. 

“Hey!” his footing stuttered and if it weren’t for his fast, he would’ve face planted into the table.

“Go!” Seungcheol hissed. 

Eyes were already starting to linger on Jeonghan, the young man having no choice but to play it cool like he was getting up to go somewhere. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught you looking at him momentarily, heating his spine up and making him feel stupidly giddy. He let out a quiet cough, relaxing his shoulder and slipping his hand into his jean pocket, stepping over people’s feet in your direction. 

If he can’t put himself between you and Baekho, he’ll just ask Wonwoo to scoot over – no biggie, right?

Jeonghan was only about two steps away when he opened his mouth to greet you. However, you were quick to ignore him, shifting out of your seat and pointed to the exit of the karaoke room, whispering something quick to Baekho. He stood up, making room for you to leave and you scurried towards the opaque door. 

Well, fuck.

 “Your luck is terrible,” Wonwoo remarked. He scooted over to make room for Jeonghan. With a heavy sigh, the bleach blonde man flopped into the empty spot. If the others weren’t now belting Justin Bieber at the top of their lungs, you would’ve heard the hard impact between Jeonghan’s body and this godly uncomfortable bench. 

“Well, gee – thanks, like I didn’t know,” Jeonghan replied sarcastically. 

“I’m . . . impressed, honestly,” Wonwoo crossed his arms over his chest. 

“About what?”

“You’ve never been hung up on someone for this long – let alone, not make a move,” Wonwoo explained further. 

“Well I mean, I kind of left a sour taste in her mouth,” Jeonghan noted. 

Wonwoo tilted his head to the side, glancing at his friend from the side. Jeonghan ceased to notice, both due to the way the light from the flat screen was dancing across his glasses and he was simply lost in his own heartsick musing. 

“What did you do?” Wonwoo asked carefully. 

“Didn’t she tell you?” Jeonghan scoffed. “I confronted her about her blocking my number.”

“She blocked your number?” Wonwoo said slowly – asking more than he was stating. 

Ugh – why was he was playing stupid? Jeonghan thought you were good friends!

“Yeah,” Jeonghan kicked at the linoleum with the toe of his sneaker. “Shouldn’t you know that?”

Wonwoo kept a straight face, only nodding. He quietly noted that maybe he just forgot – he was busy these days. However, what Jeonghan doesn’t know is that Wonwoo was finally and slowly putting all the pieces of your prefatory love story together.

Oh, how miscommunication was an amazing plot tool. 

“You should go check on her,” Wonwoo nudged Jeonghan after a moment. 

“Huh?” Jeonghan knitted his brows together. “Why?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “She’s been gone for a bit – said, she went to get air. Tell her I sent you.”

Jeonghan narrowed his eyes on his friend. Just what was he playing at?

Wonwoo leaned in close, “Or would you rather me ask Baekho to go check on her?”

That was the impetus Jeonghan needed, snapping out of his suspicious daze and getting up from his seat. 

It was now or never.

. . . .

You don’t seem to notice Jeonghan when he tumbled out the front door of the karaoke bar, leaning against the red brick wall, eyes trained up in the sky. Jeonghan looked up briefly to see what you were looking at, only to note the gray heavy clouds blocking the moon and the stars. The streets were starting to become more dynamic as people were filling up the streets. Young couples giggled, hand-in-hand, groups of friends bellowing out in laughter at inside jokes, while elderly shop owners pitched their tent – their grills starting to heat up the grease that were just slathered across them. 

Yet, you only continued to sigh and look at the sky, your vibe not quite matching the eccentricity of what was going on inside or outside. 

Jeonghan neared you, hands tucked in his jeans still, scuffing the dark pavement as he called out, “Hey.”

You look down and to the side at the sound of his voice. 

“Hi,” you greeted him with a tight smile before looking away. 

He teetered on the balls of his feet. “Whatcha doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you said. This sent Jeonghan back to your conversation at the skating chalet. However, your tone is less lively and playful this time – half-hearted. 

“It’s rude to answer a question by asking another question, you know?” Jeonghan joked. 

You chortled softly, “It wasn’t actually a question.”

Jeonghan took another step towards you, opting to stand a few feet away from you, side-by-side. “Same difference.”

Neither of speak further, letting silence envelope you both once more and suddenly it just felt like him and you in this little space despite the night coming alive around you. The silence is different this time though, in that rather than tension, there was comfort – a mutual, unspoken understanding that it was just needed. 

Jeonghan almost relished it, until his intrusive thoughts remembered–

“Wonwoo sent me to check on you by the way,” he blurted. 

You smile small, “That bastard.”

“Huh?”

You looked up at Jeonghan. “Well, you checked up on me,” you gestured back to the building behind you. “You can go back – I’m okay.”

Jeonghan cocked his head slightly at you, a crease forming between his brows as he takes you in. There was a bite to all your responses, but it lacked your usual flair. He’s not sure what it was exactly, but something told him maybe, you weren’t as okay as you led onto be. 

“What?” you asked when he didn’t reply or move. 

Sometimes, maybe it was better not to think too hard about it, Jeonghan decided. 

Maybe, he just needed to do what felt right. 

“Do you . . .” his voice trailed off as he hesitated for a moment, but he picked up right again. “Do you wanna go for a walk actually?”

You were taken aback, shoulders settling back and your faux smile falling into a small pout instead. 

Despite his cool and collected demeanor that he hoped he was displaying, in his head, he was quietly chanting, “Please say yes,” as if it was a mantra that would trance you into going on this walk with him. 

Maybe it does work, however, because even though you don’t say ‘yes,’ you take off in a direction without him. Jeonghan froze momentarily, in disbelief and relief, jaw slack and small breath escaping his lips. 

You must’ve sensed the lack of his presence behind you because you spin around, your jean pleated skirt twirling prettily in the process. 

Cocking your head at him, you simply asked, “Coming?”

Maybe, Jeonghan should leave it up to fate more. 

(Or just Wonwoo.)

. . . .

Fate was cruel. 

And Jeonghan was over dramatic and impatient – at least, in Seungcheol’s eyes. 

The walk that evening was rather uneventful, but it gave Jeonghan hope – so much damn hope. Initially, Jeonghan only tailed you until you asked him why he was doing that and he jogged to walk beside you. Naturally, your footsteps fell in sync, Jeonghan wondering if he was the only one who noticed. Far and few words were exchanged like at the skating center, but neither of you minded. Like prior, the silence was tranquil, bringing a sense of calm and comfort to the both of you. You seemed to relax, a genuine smile springing on your face as you passed various shops, eyes lighting up at the sight of the few bakeries and the few childish remarks of trinkets in the windowsill. 

To be frank, and Jeonghan wasn’t always, even with himself, you were fucking adorable – and he wanted to know this feeling more. This sensation that melted his heart every time his gaze flickered over to you, this joy that fills his body and courses through his veins; yet despite all this heart fluttering sensation, there was a sense of simplicity and effortlessness that accompanied it all. It made him feel like he could do this . . . for a long time. 

Maybe he was insane and beyond himself – he hardly knew anything about you, but he liked it. He wasn’t sure he felt this way before. He was a non-believer of love at first sight, but a piece of him wanted to defy this reality he knew. He wondered if this is how Soonyoung felt about Dami on the regular. 

Jeonghan doesn’t find out why you were feeling down earlier that evening. Jeonghan doesn’t ask to exchange Instagram’s with you. Jeonghan doesn’t ask when he will see you again because he knew he would – he had to. 

He reveled about you to Seungcheol. The short twenty minute walk felt like a lifetime; when it came to a halt and you arrived back at the karaoke bar and how he didn’t want to go inside, but he did anyway. He wondered what you did the next day and the day after. Did you go back to those bakeries with anyone? Did you buy that scarf you were eyeing through the clear glass?

But okay, maybe it was a mistake to leave it all up to fate. The thrill of it was quick to fade and entered misery and longing. 

Jeonghan didn’t meet you again until graduation.  

Countless, prolonged, corny speeches about the future and hard work given, long lines of people waiting for their empty diploma cases passed, a flurry of black caps thrown, tears cried, cheers shouted, and hugs exchanged later, Jeonghan spotted you in the middle of an aisle by yourself. You were waving good-bye to a classmate before you turned to walk down the path of green grass alone. Eyes trained on the ground, one foot in front of another, you unknowingly made your way towards him. There was a smalling, toothless smile on your face slowly fading with each step. 

You must’ve sensed his presence because you stopped a few feet away. The smile returned, making Jeonghan’s heart skip a beat. His face mirrored your own, the world seeming to fade around the both of you once again. 

“Hey stranger,” you quipped. He was holding his graduation cap in one hand. You note how his roots were showing, the bleach blonde growing and now shading over his eyes. 

“Hey,” he greeted. Folding his hands behind him, he took a few steps closer towards you. He tipped his head forward, “Congratulations.”

You saluted him and sent a playful wink in his direction. “You likewise.”

Jeonghan chuckled. His eyes wandered up to the sky a bit as his next question formed. How did he ask this without making it too obvious?

“What are your plans after all of this?” Jeonghan asked. He held his hands out, gesturing to the field of new graduates greeting their friends and family joyfully. 

“Um,” you chuckled, “Dinner with my family probably?” You scratched your head and looked around for them briefly before turning back to him. Your lips parted to ask ‘you’, but Jeonghan beat you to it.

“No,” Jeonghan chuckled, waving you off, “I meant like . . . future-future – career plans and all.”

“Oh,” you said, your voice much softer now. “That.”

Jeonghan tilted his head curiously. 

“I’ll be . . . around,” you pressed your lips together and chuckled softly, “Um . . . I’m honestly not sure – what I had planned, didn’t pan out.”

There was a flash of worry across your face – Jeonghan probably presuming you were thinking he thought you were pathetic and a failure. However, that was not how he felt. If anything, his heart panged for you a little. He didn’t claim to know what you were feeling, heck, he hardly knew much about you still – Jeonghan would like to think he knew a thing or two about disappointment. 

“C-can I?” he stammered. He opened his arms for you slightly, quietly asking for a hug. 

Your eyes widened. “U-um.” Your feet were already clumsily tripping over one another towards him though. 

Jeonghan pulled you in, your lips pressed into the shoulder of his graduation gown. Initially tense in his hold, with each breath, his woody cologne overwhelming your senses, the hug became more bearable . . . comfortable. You relaxed, bringing your hands up around his waist. You felt him patting your back gently as if to quietly reassure you. 

“The world doesn’t just end because one plan went awry,” he offered. 

You snorted and joked,  “Just what I needed – another speech on resilience.”

Jeonghan pulled away, grinning at you really hard. He could’ve sworn he probably looked like an idiot, but he didn’t really care – this could be the last time he saw you ever. 

“The world has a funny way of working out,” Jeonghan pressed on. “Fate . . . it isn’t too bad – most of the time.”

“Darling!” you heard your mother call from behind you. Instantly, your cheeks grew hot, already envisioning 101 scenarios as to how this conversation would go with Jeonghan meeting your family like this. Your mother in particular, was a fickle woman who had a lot of predictions. 

“There you are!” your younger brother jumped on you, hooking his arm around your neck. 

“Congratulations!” you heard one of your cousins shout as well, wedging celebratory balloons between you and Jeonghan. 

Jeonghan chuckled to himself. His heart sinking a little – maybe this is all you and Jeonghan would be to each other. 

“Who’s this, Y/N?” your mother asked, of course, first of all people and things. She gestured to Jeonghan. Her eyes were curious, scanning him up and down. 

Your younger brother released you and you straightened yourself out. You waved for Jeonghan to hold up his hand to greet your mom. 

“Mom, this is Yoon Jeonghan, my uh . . .” 

What were you two exactly?

“Friend,” Jeonghan finished for you. “Y/N’s friend – we met through Wonwoo.”

“Friend?” your mom repeated suspiciously. 

“Friend,” Jeonghan nodded in reassurance. 

“Friend,” you said again – it left a funny taste in your mouth though. 

“Well, pleasure to meet you,” your mom took his hand. Your dad, a kind, but quieter man, followed shortly after. 

After some small talk, Jeonghan excused himself from your family, explaining he needed to find his own. He gave you one last longing look when he said goodbye, sending you off with a small wave of his shoulder. It was accompanied by a tender smile; a bittersweet tint to his eyes. It made your heartache a little, a sense of panic overtaking you when your family pulled you away.

You decided, you didn’t want this to be the last time you saw Yoon Jeonghan. 

Yes, perhaps, he did mention moving to another city for his new job, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t want to lose this chance. 

You asked your cousin to lend you a pen and hastily rip out a scrap of the placeholder in your diploma (it wasn’t your actual degree anyways – that would be coming in the mail after your finals were graded). Quickly, you scribble your phone number onto it. Folding it up, you excuse yourself briefly from your family, not caring if your mom noticed and would lecture you later about how girls shouldn’t make the first move and that if Jeonghan liked you, he would’ve already asked you out. 

“Jeonghan!” you shouted. 

He turned around, a few steps away from who you presumed was his family. They also tuned in, eyes turning to observe the interaction. 

He was smiling, though evidently confused. 

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you marched towards him and held up the folded paper in your hand, gesturing for him to take it. He didn’t take it. His eyes only flickered from you then the paper, then back at you. 

When he doesn’t make a move, you reach for his wrist, pressing it into his palm and folding his fingers over, ignoring the way your cheeks felt ablaze.

“See you around, Yoon Jeonghan.”

. . . .

[Jeonghan]: You fucker

[Wonwoo]: Excuse me?

[Jeonghan]: [insert image]

[Jeonghan]: Your handwriting is HORRENDOUS!

[Jeonghan]: It was a 4 not a 6!

[Wonwoo]: LMAO

[Jeonghan]: Fuck you

[Wonwoo]: Hey – think of it as part of the plot. You’ll thank me later. 

[Jeonghan]: Whatever

[Wonwoo]: Well???

[Jeonghan]: ?

[Wonwoo]: Are you just gonna curse me or are you going to text her!?

. . . .

[Uknonwn number]: Hi 🙂

[Unknown number]: This is Yoon Jeonghan – please don’t block me!

[Unknown number]: . . . um hello?

[Unknown number]: omg did i fuck this up again

[Y/N]: [your message not delivered]

[jeonghan]: well fuck. 

[Y/N]: Haha – jk. 

[Y/N]: Hi Jeonghan 🙂

. . . .

You and Jeonghan found yourselves texting daily and calling nearly nightly. It started out as simple banter, but evolved to mundane questions of what you ate for lunch to 3AM discussions ranging anywhere from your post-bac thesis to whether straws had one or two holes. 

The calls at night were short on the weekdays, but they were disgustingly long on the weekends. Rather than going out on Friday nights, Jeonghan would make excuses to not go to the bar with his new colleagues as to just be able to talk with you on the phone for hours and hours. At some point, they caught on that Friday nights were reserved for you, teasing him about the much anticipated call as they left the office. Jeonghan being the seemingly transparent and nonchalant man he is, just chuckled and brushed it off. 

Typically, he’d give you a ring around 8PM on FaceTime. He’d watch you cook, maybe even eat his delivery while you ate dinner, and you’d talk for hours thereafter about everything and nothing into the early morning hours, only stopping when you drifted off to sleep or he claimed he was aging prematurely and was tired. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?” you whispered into your phone one evening. His end of the call was already dark, only a lamp in the distance illuminating his features. You peaked up to see him keeping one eye open underneath his bed of hair that was an ashy sombre now, blending his dark roots with a more neutral blonde. 

He hummed softly, signaling he was still there. “Technically, you just did.”

You chortled. “Prick – maybe I won’t.”

“I’m kidding,” he raised his head to look at you. Sleep was heavy on his eyes, his lids weighing down. “What’s up?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you decide to forgo the question that has been haunting you recently. You opt to redirect the conversation in another direction instead. 

“I got an internship,” you told him. 

This truly woke him off. “What? Y/N, that’s amazing! Congratulations! Where at?”

“Park Consultants,” you told him, “But, I’m not sure I should take it.”

“Love, what?” Jeonghan said, confused.

You pretend to bury you face in frustration, but you were really trying to hide the way your lips wobbled at the nickname: Love. 

When did the two of you get this far?

Despite things going well between you and Jeonghan, there were always those thoughts that lingered in your mind. 

It was clear, there was nothing ‘just platonic’ about your relationship, as Wonwoo had pointed out several times. “Just get married already!” he’d joke. 

Yet, the unconventional nature of it, made you wary. 

It was only when Jeonghan moved away did the two of you become closer and it didn’t sit well with you. You remember vehemently telling Dami you couldn’t do long distance relationships – you had trust issues and were the jealous type. Yet, here you were glued to your phone most times of the day you weren’t working to talk to him. Your perspective of him was limited to a small rectangular screen – was he really who he presented himself to be? Your mother had always warned you about men like Jeonghan too – charming and playful with a smooth tongue, but snakes behind your back. You wondered if he was seeing someone else. In technicality, it was within his right; the two of you weren’t anything in particular. She also told you once that girls should not initiate, but be pursued – at least from graduation on, that was definitely not your story. 

“I wonder,” you stabbed your wooden spoon into your ice cream turning to Wonwoo, “Could it be that I just . . . like him because he reassured me at my lowest?”

You and Wonwoo had met up for ice cream. Tonight, Jeonghan’s family was visiting him, so he had told you ahead of time he couldn’t call as he would be spending time with him. The topic of you and Jeonghan resurfaced and you needed a reasonable sounding board. 

“What do you mean?” Wonwoo sniffled, feeling the tip of his nose grow cold from the chilled treat. 

“I just don’t want to end up being one of those girls who fall for someone because he was like, my ‘knight in shining armor’ who whisked me away when I was a damsel in distress,” you explained. “Graduate school didn’t quite pan out – I had just gotten rejected when we went on that walk that night we went to the karaoke bar and then graduation. I’m just worried I’m swooning for the wrong reason. I don’t want my relationship to be hinged on pity and depending on him.”

Wonwoo snorted, much to your surprise. Your expression was quick to change into a scowl. “What?”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” Wonwoo pushed his glasses up the ridge of his nose. “When were you ever a damsel in distress? And if anything, Jeonghan was never and will never be anyone’s knight in shining armor.”

“I don’t think you get it,” you muttered, picking at the clump of cookie dough. 

“Yes,” Wonwoo swallowed the ice cream left in his mouth before continuing. “You may have met him at your lowest, but that’s not what matters. He didn’t save you and you didn’t save him. Neither of you needed saving to begin with – you’re both capable of picking yourselves up in the situation as shown.” Wonwoo held out his hands, “The way I see it, he was the first person you could readily be vulnerable with and that is what matters. Someone you feel safe with – amidst other things of course. Y/N you could hardly meet up with me that week and Jeonghan did it in the matter of seconds. I think that says something.”

“But you know, my mom said–”

“Fuck what your mom says – trust yourself for once, okay?” Wonwoo rolled his eyes. To his defense, you’ve spiraled about your mother’s expectations for you to him many times before and it was tiring. It was rare that Wonwoo just swore like that. “Maybe he’s not the stellar, perfect future son-in-law she has preached your entire life, but that’s okay. Trust him – trust Jeonghan. Despite his annoying antics sometimes, he’s a good guy – he’s always been. If it’s meant to be, it’ll work out.”

. . . .

Jeonghan returned to the city almost a year and a half later for the holidays. The both of you try to arrange for plans to meet up, but in the spirit of the holiday season, timing doesn’t quite work out right due to family. Jeonghan invited you to his family Christmas party, but you suddenly became bashful, unsure of how he’d introduce you to his immediate family, let alone his cousins, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. 

Friend? Girlfriend? Friend girl?

You declined politely, explaining to him it was too overwhelming. Gratefully, Jeonghan was understanding, promising to stay in town a little longer after the New Year’s for you – it made you feel all weird and tingling inside. 

Like you were special. 

Nonetheless, you were fated to meet once more before that as Minghao and his now fiance threw a New Year’s Eve party at his penthouse and you were both invited. You were unsure if Jeonghan would make it, however, as he mentioned his younger sister had a small celebration she wanted him to attend. You end up third wheeling Soonyoung and Dami to the party as Soonyoung offered to drive, but mingle amongst the others. 

Just as you’re finding yourself getting more immersed in your conversation with Seungcheol and his girlfriend, the lighthearted and drunken banter regarding his tattoo experience was interrupted by a nerve wracking, but familiar, presence. Someone’s hand slipped around your waist, a warmth blooming across your body, the silver long-sleeved dress seemingly not so warm. Smile fading, you turn to the figure standing in the once empty spot on your left to find Jeonghan occupying the space with a playful smirk stretching from ear-to-ear. He gives Seungcheol an apologetic look and then pulls you closer into his side. The latter grinned, raising his cup in greeting and a silent good luck.

Despite his flirtatious advances, there was a glint of alarm and plea in his eyes. Your lips parted to question him, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, Jeonghan leaned forward, turning his head to better dip into the junction of your neck and shoulder. Whether it was intentional or unintentional, his lips grazed against the shell of your ear. The waft of soju about him stung your nose; the warm, small breeze from his small, hesitant breath made you shudder. You gripped your own red solo cup a little tighter, crinkling the edges in the process. 

There was no ‘hello’, ‘I missed you’, and no wave. He simply leaned in and asked, “Dance with me?” His voice was low, loud enough just for you to hear as if he was sharing a secret no one else dares to know. 

He was wiggling his eyebrows playfully when he pulled back to look at you. The way he tugged you towards the crowd in the living room, fingers hooking tightly with yours, told you there really wasn’t a choice. 

Whether you want to or not, you were going to dance with him. 

Jeonghan handed off his red solo cup to a random presumed man standing by, chatting up a girl in a strapless silver mini dress. The stranger looked confused, but Jeonghan didn’t mind – his eyes were trained on you, as if you were the only person in the room. The bodies bumping into him didn’t seem to bother him; his grip on your hand was unrelenting, fearful to lose you amidst the sea of intoxicated party goers. His roguish expression made your breath hitch; you had to consciously remind yourself to breathe. 

Your musing was interrupted by Jeonghan’s sudden pull. Swiftly, your feet tumbled over one another and before you could register, you were flushed against his chest. Jeonghan brought up his hand, ghosting against the small of your back until his arm is fully wrapped around your waist.

“What are you doing?” you muttered, pressing a hand to his chest. 

He grinned like you were the only thing at this party that brought him joy.

“That’s no way to greet a friend after so long,” Jeonghan frowned. 

“Neither is sleazily dragging me onto the dance floor,” you faked a pout, “Consent in this day and age is sexy, Jeonghan.”

“Like you’d say no to dancing with me,” he teased. “But if you insist,” he stepped back and gave you a knowing look. “Would you like to dance with me, Miss Y/N?”

You giggled girlishly, nodding and extending an arm for him to come back. 

He had a point – you’re not sure what you wouldn’t let Jeonghan do at this point. 

The music suddenly slows, the fast and heavy beat melding into something mellower. 

Fate was cruel, but sometimes, it was nice. 

(Or maybe Wonwoo just requested Jihoon to DJ a slower song – just a thought.)

“How’ve you been?” Jeonghan finally asked. He peered at you, the lights bouncing off his dark irises. His steps slowed and you followed, rocking from side to side to meet the new rhythm. 

“You ask that as if we don’t talk every day,” you remarked. You’re embarrassed, nonetheless, turning your head so you don’t meet his eyes. 

“It has been precisely fourteen days and,” Jeonghan peered at his watch quickly, “twelve-ish hours since we last talked on the phone. A lot can happen in that time.”

“Yeah?” you challenged. “Such as?”

He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully as he came to a halt. Hand slipping down to link with your own, he ran his thumb across your knuckles as he finally caught your gaze. You were nervous – or maybe, it was just the champagne coursing through your veins. Your eyes were blown wide and glossy, breathing shallow. You were still, holding your arms close to your body. He did wonder if there was a piece of him that fucked up. 

“Could I show you instead?” Jeonghan asked. 

He didn’t wait for an answer, only holding onto your hand firmly and weaving in and out of the crowd until you met a set of stairs that led you to the top floor of the penthouse. 

Oh my god . . . he wouldn't, right?

Jeonghan moved to a room on the left, twisting the pearly white knob, and pausing briefly to make sure it was empty before entering. 

He pulled you in, shutting and locking the door behind you. It was dark – only the city lights and slivers of the waxing moon slipping through the murky white tulle curtains. It lit up a slit from the large balcony window, tracing a path to Jeonghan and you, who were now pressed up against the door. 

He was awfully close – one tip of your chin and your lips would touch. 

Wait – what!?

Why were you thinking about kissing him?

The franticness of it all must’ve been evident on your features, Jeonghan’s sly grin only growing further, eyes curving to mimic the moon. There was a wink of light in his dark brown orbs – warm, mischievous– before he pushed away, tucking his hands into his suit pants. 

“Just kidding,” he finally quipped.

You let out a small breath and ease away from the door. 

He pointed a teasing finger at you, “You were flustered, weren’t you?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled. Your palms grew sweaty and the tips of your ears grew hot. You were about to turn and open the door again, when you heard Jeonghan quietly call for you to wait. 

You spun around to face him again, finding him scratching his temple, he turned back to face you. “That’s not why I brought you here.”

“Huh?” you questioned. 

“I figured it was time to ask you, um . . . be an adult about it,” he continued. Jeonghan smiled at you, his lips in a tilt as he was amused but trying so hard to stick to the agenda. He muttered, “Wonwoo said you would never get it until I asked like this so . . .” Before you have a chance to question him again, Jeonghan sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, inhaling sharply. “Look, I’m not the best at being . . . uh, explicit about my feelings, but for you, I figured I could be, but um . . . say, uh, what do you say, love?”

And your world stopped, breath hitching. Your dress suddenly felt too tight. 

What did he just call you?! Again!

“I . . . like you a lot and I have for quite some time now, if you haven’t noticed,” Jeonghan pressed on. He exhaled deeply, letting out a quiet whoosh. Jeonghan tilted his head back and fidgeted for a moment, eliciting at a quiet chortle from you. “What if we tried this . . . dating thing? Yeah?”

The tension Jeonghan felt now was unbearable. It was different from the one at the skating chalet, different from the one at the karaoke bar. Like a rubber band pulled taut to its wits end, he was barely holding on as your quietness ensued. 

You suddenly start laughing, throwing your head back in guffaw and slapping your knee. Jeonghan was a bit scared – both just of you and what that meant. Did you not feel the same? Was he the one who got played? 

Did he really just rearrange his life to be rejected?

Heels clicking against the wooden floorboards, your laughter died down as you made your way towards him. Each step felt so long and far away, but it was only a matter of seconds before your arms were wrapped around his neck. Your fingers played with the fringes of his back hairs, eyes gazing up at him – indecipherable, if he was being honest. 

Maybe Jeonghan wasn’t as good at reading you as he thought. 

Taking him by surprise, you placed a chaste kiss on his lips. It was brief, but it burned – it was efficient if your goal was to suck all the air out of Jeonghan’s lungs in the matter of the two seconds your lips touched. 

That or he was just stunned at your boldness – it was hard to predict. 

“You look nice with black hair, by the way,” you noted when you pulled away. Your ran your hand through the front fringes, then teased them back into place. 

“What–”

You tiptoed, giving him another kiss – this one longer. He wasn’t prepared, stiff at first, but quick to lean into it and adjust himself to better slot your lips together. Jeonghan gripped onto your waist, the material of your dress bunching into his hands. 

“Took you long enough, asshole,” you muttered in between pecks when you pulled away. Jenoghan’s lips chased after you, not quite ready to let go. 

“Hey! Your best friend was the one who gave me the wrong number,” Jeonghan shot back. “We could’ve been dating two years ago.”

“Not my fault he writes like a third grader,” you chuckled. 

“He said it was for the plot.”

“Can we just stop talking about Wonwoo when we’re kissing? It feels kind of weird.”

“You know, if you think about it, he’s kind of the main character without being the main character.”

“Okay,” you pulled away, pushing at his chest lightly.

“Wait!” Jeonghan giggled, “Come back – I’ll stop.”

“If we stay here any longer, people will get the wrong idea,” you tried to come up with an excuse.

Jeonghan wiggled his brows playfully, pulling you back. “Like I care?”

. . . .

[Present]

“So, that’s why the joke was that Nina was conceived that night,” Wonwoo explained to Leah. 

“But she wasn’t because timing wise that wouldn’t make sense – I didn’t carry her for a year and a half,” you interjected. You quickly added, “We didn’t do anything either – just kissed and Jeonghan’s social battery was low so we stayed there until midnight and then I fell asleep.”

“I get that – don’t worry,” Leah waved you off. “But . . . uh, the two of you got married pretty fast then – only a year of dating, huh?”

You and Jeonghan looked at each other, gaze softening. 

“Yeah,” Jeonghan shrugged nonchalantly, “I mean that and a year and a half of missed opportunities and pining, but  . . . I dunno, it just made sense.”

You nodded in agreement. 

“That’s sweet,” Leah smiled, “I’m glad it worked out for you guys in the end and you got that job to bring you back here. Fate is so quirky sometimes.”

“Babe,” Wonwoo shoved a spoonful of chocolate cake into his mouth. His words were garbled, “Please don’t make them sentimental – they’re kinda gross and sappy when they get into it.”

“Uncle Wonwoo, mommy says no talking with food in your mouth!” Nina exclaimed. 

He gave the little girl an apologetic look and swallowed . . . without chewing. 

Three pairs of eyes widened, the little one not thinking much of it. 

“Did you just–” Y/N started, but was too stunned to continue. 

“Are you okay?!” Leah exclaimed. She passed him her own glass of water. Wonwoo wiped the corner of his mouth and smiled sheepishly, first at her then you and Jeonghan. “Please don’t choke – we’re getting married in less than a month!”

“Mommy, mommy! Can I try?” Nina exclaimed. 

“No,” you deadpanned. Nina knew that voice, going back to play with her spoon instead. 

Jeonghan guffawed, “Holy shit, I can’t believe you’re marrying him!”

Woonwoo gave him a dark look, gesturing to his daughter. Anyone who knew Wonwoo knew he didn’t like cussing, let alone, around children. “Language,” he scolded. 

. . . .

[Bonus]

“Hey, I have a question for you,” you stated as you wiped the wet cup. Jeonghan had his nose stuck in the dishwasher, making sure all the items were arranged appropriately. 

“Hm?” He waited for you to continue. 

“We all know why I fell for you, but . . . what made you fall for me? At first, that is,” you asked. “I feel like I never got a clear grasp on that.”

Jeonghan grinned, standing up from his crouched position. He stepped towards you, planting a hand on your waist. “That’s easy.”

“Is it?” you raised your eyebrows, curiously. 

He hummed and nodded adamantly. “I thought you knew.”

“Well, you’re not the most forward about everything,” you noted. 

“You remember the perilla leaf debate?” 

“Yeah.”

“It was that,” he explained, “Dami had asked and your answer was that you’re the jealous type, so you’d peel it for everyone to avoid bad vibes and hurting your own feelings – and while saying that, you were actually peeling the perilla for everyone.”

Your jaw grew slack, swatting at him with the dish towel. “That’s it?” you exclaimed. 

“I mean, it was an added bonus that you were kind of cute,” Jeonghan joked. 

“You suck.”

“What? I love the self-awareness and honesty!”

[yuujispinkhair]

Tease

You get caught up in a game of seduction with your new housemate Solomon. A game you never announced publicly. But the rules are clear. Whoever can make the other give in to their desires first is the winner. In more ways than one. Who will it be? The sexy sorcerer or you?

Pairing: Solomon x Reader (female) Genre: smut + fluff Word Count: 3k Warnings: 18+, smut, sexual teasing, mentions of mutual masturbation through the bedroom wall, mirror sex, nipple play, fingering, praise, dirty talk, slight over-stimulation. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

It's a game. A game of who can seduce the other one first. A game of who will give in first to their desires. It has been going on for weeks now. Ever since you moved into Cocytus Hall with Solomon. You can always feel his eyes on you, following you everywhere you go. And you do the same, unable to keep your gaze off the silver-haired sorcerer, who somehow has become even more attractive now that you are so close to him all the time.

Yes, it's part of the game when Solomon flirts with you openly. When he smiles that charming smile and calls you love and darling, and compliments you whenever he can.

Just like it's part of the game when you grin like the Cheshire Cat and call him your boyfriend in front of the demon brothers, with a teasing wink in Solomon's direction and a friendly pat on his thigh.

Solomon tells everyone during dinner that you are very special to him and that the two of you have a very deep relationship, making it sound as if you are fucking on every surface of your shared home. His words are accompanied by a soft touch of his fingertips on your hand that's resting next to your plate. Under the table, you have to press your thighs together as heat throbs in your core.

In turn, you pretend to stumble over the carpet in your living room the next day, landing conveniently in Solomon's lap, where he is man-spreading on the couch, looking so sexy that your panties are already sticky with wetness.

His reaction is a low, breathy whisper,

"Careful, darling. Don't hurt yourself. You're lucky I was sitting here to catch you."

You almost moan when you nuzzle your face into his neck and let your lips brush teasingly over his sensitive skin as you whisper thanks to him. However, your smile is victorious when you feel a tell-tale hardness press against you.

But he resists you, just like you resist him too. No winner is declared tonight. You go to sleep in separate rooms, listening to each other's soft moans carrying through the thin wall, as both of you have a hand between your legs, touching yourself to the thought of the other.

You start dressing in your tightest clothes and shortest dresses, making sure to give your sexy sorcerer something to fantasize about every day.

But you aren't the only one making this game move.

You chuckle softly when you realize that anytime Solomon enters your shared home, he immediately takes off his flowy coat. Revealing his tall, lean muscled figure to you in his tight-fitting black pants and the long-sleeved shirt that shows off his body. You can see every firm muscle. He looks good! 

You know he is doing it on purpose. You know it by the way he cocks his head and smiles as if daring you. As if saying, 'Come here and put your hands on me, darling. Don't you want to touch me?'

Your fingers twitch with the almost irresistible urge to just lunge at him and grab those sexy muscles. But you refuse. Balling your fingers into fists and smiling back at him, angelic, sweet, innocent. You will not lose this game!

And so the game continues without any player ever mentioning that it is taking place. 

You and Solomon are teasing each other and flirting 24/7, filling the room with so much sexual tension that it is almost touchable.

But never more than that.

Neither wants to lose, it seems. Both of you are ambitious players.

You turn your head to the side and laugh before you are too caught up in Solomon's blue eyes and seductive voice while he caresses your cheek under the guise of brushing away a breadcrumb.

And he gently but firmly pushes you off his lap and off his hard-on with a soft laugh and a good-natured,

"I suggest you get some rest, love, if you are so unsteady on your pretty feet that you trip and fall into my lap.

You know that he knows what you are doing. And he knows that you know too. Both of you seem to enjoy this game of slow seduction immensely. You definitely do. It's addictive to tease and flirt and see how far you can go until Solomon snaps. Until you win.

Ironically, when it finally happens, it isn't even part of your elaborate plan to get some sexy sorcerer dick. It is just you being a forgetful idiot.

You have just finished your long luxurious bath when you realize you forgot to bring fresh clothes.

You are too busy cursing under your breath about having to walk down the cold hallway stark-naked that you don't even see him until a graceful but firm hand closes around your arm.

"Enough is enough, you little tease. What do you think you're doing? You're the naughtiest apprentice I ever had."

Solomon's voice is low, talking slowly, pronouncing every word clearly. The tone of his voice is a seductive mix of stern and amused. His words and the firm grip on your arm leave no doubt. Tonight the two of you will cross that invisible line that you have been tiptoeing around.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"S... Solomon."

You can feel his tall body pressing against your back now. Firm muscles and potent magic. It's arousing to have him this close. To stand here stark naked while he is fully clothed. A shudder washes over you, accompanied by a pulsing sensation between your legs. You can feel yourself getting wet just from this.

And it only gets more intense when you feel the luxurious fabric of his clothes brush over your skin. When you feel the firmness of his body and his warm breath on your neck as he leans down to murmur in your ear,

"I admit defeat. I can't keep my hands off you any longer. But just so you know, sweetheart. You aren't playing fair."

A light gasp escapes your mouth when the grip of his strong hands tightens on your arms, and he steers you back into the bathroom you just left.

Your heart is beating up to your throat, your mind is spinning, and your pussy is very, very wet. You feel light-headed, almost dizzy from excitement.

Solomon is so strong, so powerful, easily maneuvering you through the vast bathroom. He stops walking, and the firm grip on your upper arms loosens, replaced by his long fingers gently running down your arms. His thumbs graze the sides of your naked breasts, sending shock waves of pleasure through you.

You lift your head and blink. Your breath comes out shakily when you realize where you are. Your reflection is staring back at you from the full-length mirror, eyes heavily lidded, pupils blown wide, and lips parted almost dumbly. Your breasts are enticingly squished together from the way you press your arms to your sides, your nipples erect and so sensitive that even the brush of air makes you moan softly.

You look slutty. Aroused and naughty, standing here in front of the mirror, naked in the arms of the man you desire so badly.

Blue eyes meet yours in the mirror. Solomon's gaze is deep and intense, desire burning unguardedly in those beautiful blue and brown irises. Yet, underneath the desire, you can still see a cheeky twinkle. The same sparkle you have seen every day since your little game started.

You return his intense gaze, sure that he can see how turned on you are. And then his eyes leave yours to slowly trail down further, taking in the sight of your naked body, your full breasts, and all your curves. You gulp when his gaze lingers on the place between your thighs.

Your pulse is fluttering nervously. It's humiliating to be so fully exposed to Solomon's lustful gaze, To be completely naked while he is still dressed, knowing that he is looking at your pussy. The thought alone makes more cream coat your pussy lips. 

You make an embarrassing noise, a soft squeak, and turn your face to the side, too ashamed suddenly to look into the mirror and see Solomon's hungry gaze on your exposed body.

A soft laugh fills the room, and strong arms wrap around your waist while warm lips leave a barely palpable trail of kisses over your neck.

"Don't act shy now, darling. Isn't this what you planned? Didn't you want to seduce me? Didn't you want to drive me crazy with your body? It certainly worked."

He pulls you closer to him until your body is flush against his. And you can feel it. You can feel how crazy you drive him. How much he wants you. You can feel his hard cock press against your back, large and hot even through the silky fabric of his neat black pants.

A whine escapes your lips. A sound so needy that it's embarrassing. But you nod and answer him with a breathy,

"Y... yes. That was my plan."

"I have to congratulate you on your win, then. I couldn't resist your charms any longer. Well played, sweetheart."

His voice is velvety soft, warm, and deep, arousal clear in it. But there is also a teasing tone to it.

Soft, warm hands come up to cup your breasts and squeeze them gently.

"Ah, yes, just as I thought. You feel so good under my hands."

Solomon's touch is loving but firm. Long fingers sprawl over your tits, playing with them, squeezing them lovingly, making you moan and let your head fall back against Solomon's shoulder.

Technically you have won. But have you really? You aren't sure who is seducing who at the moment. Solomon took full control over the situation, even though you are the one who was proclaimed the winner. But there is no doubt about who is in charge at the moment.

Maybe it's his natural dominance. Maybe it's his height and strength. Maybe the powerful magic exuding from him. No matter what it is, you are putty in his arms. Your breath comes out in short gasps, your body is melting against Solomon's firm muscles, heart racing wildly, and pussy throbbing with need, so wet that you can feel it on your inner thighs.

Solomon's fingers begin to toy with your nipples, pinching them between two fingers, rolling them gently, teasingly tugging on them until you moan loudly and your eyes close in pleasure.

"Open your eyes. I want you to look at yourself."

Solomon's breath is warm on your neck, and his voice is dripping with desire and smugness. He loves the power he has over you. And you love it too, love being under his spell, trapped in his strong arms.

You sob as you obey his command and open your eyes. What you see in the mirror makes you moan loudly. You see yourself squirming needily in Solomon's arms, lips hanging open as moans spill from them, eyes clouded over by lust. And your nipples are stiff and erect, tits plump in Solomon's strong hands where he squishes them together.

He presses a lingering kiss to the side of your neck, blue eyes watching you admiringly in the mirror.

"Yes, keep looking, darling. Look how beautiful you are. I want you to watch closely. Watch me play with you, my pretty girl."

You whine when his warm, loving hands let go of your sensitive tits. But they only wander further down your body, caressing your sides slowly, while hot kisses trail up and down your neck and the thick hardness trapped in Solomon's pants throbs against your back.

You would make a pact with him right this second just to get his cock inside you. But the only thing you can do is shiver and exhale shakily as skilled fingers caress your hips.

Somehow you know Solomon won't give you the whole package tonight. The game isn't over yet. But you will take everything he is willing to give you. You will collect your prize for your victory by letting yourself fall apart under Solomon's magical fingers.

Those fingers brush teasingly over your inner thighs. They graze lightly over your wet slit. And you gasp loudly, pussy creaming up even more, hot and slick against Solomons exploring hands.

"Let me see all of you, my love."

Your gaze is glued to where Solomon's firm fingers spread your pussy lips open, exposing your glistening wet clit and folds. You are dripping with arousal, your cunt giving away just how much you crave the gorgeous sorcerer.

A low sexy moan is coming from him, and he rolls his hips against your ass, pushing his large cock against you, letting you feel how hard he is for you.

"Oh fuck, look at you. Look at my pretty girl and her pretty pussy. So beautiful and so wet. Let me take care of that pretty pussy for you."

Two fingers find your puffy clit and rub slow circles around it, spreading your cream over it, making your hips buck and your mouth part with loud moans.

Solomon's breath is hot on your neck as his soft low moans join yours. His fingers keep flicking your swollen bud, gentle and slow. And maybe he is really working magic on you because nothing has ever felt so good as Solomon's hands on your body, on your tits, and your pussy.

You gulp hard as you observe yourself in the mirror, watching yourself spread your legs sluttily for Solomon. Watching him rub your needy pussy so expertly that you are a shaking, whining mess.

"Yes, just like that, darling. Look how beautiful you are. You're doing so well. You're such a good girl for me."

You don't know whether it's the praise coming out of Solomon's mouth in that sexy raspy tone or whether it's the way he rubs and pampers your clit, that makes you sob loudly. You are already so embarrassingly close to cumming.

Solomon pushes two fingers inside you, making you see stars. It's like he is using his magic on you, like it is inside you, filling your pussy, making it throb with a kind of pleasure you haven't known before. He fucks you with his fingers, deep and good, while his other hand massages your clit.

Your eyes close as you give yourself completely to the sexy sorcerer, leaning on him, your head resting against his firm chest, legs spread for him, moaning his name while your cream is dripping down his long fingers.

"Keep your eyes open, sweetheart. Watch me pamper that cute pussy of yours."

What you see is a total horny wreck. Your tits bounce sluttily from how hard you ride Solomon's fingers, so desperate to cum. The noises that fall from your parted lips are obscene, loud, needy mewls and sobs, but they almost get drowned out by the loud squishing noises of your overly wet pussy.

Solomon's fingers push against that sweet spot deep inside you, making your hips buck wildly. You are almost crying by now from how good it feels, getting on your tiptoes, body so ready to cum all over those gorgeous fingers, needily chasing after your high.

"Solomon!! Oh yes, yes, right there! Ah!! I'm gonna...I'm gonna..."

"Mmmh, I know, darling, I know. Show me how pretty you look when you cum all over my fingers."

You fall apart right then and there, crying out brokenly as your hands grab Solomon's arms, digging your nails into them as your orgasm overtakes you, long and hot, with a dizzying force. Your pussy spasms around Solomon's fingers, body shaking, loud cries falling from your lips. You feel hot all over, your face, your whole body, but most of all, your pussy. It's almost too much, too intense.

You are trembling and sobbing, clawing at Solomon's wrists, but he stops you,

"Shh, let me take proper care of you, just like you deserve."

And he keeps fucking you with those talented fingers, slower now, while his thumb plays with your over-stimulated clit, gradually slowing his movements to slow, gentle caresses. But he doesn't stop until he has rubbed every last wave of orgasm out of you.

When he finally pulls his fingers out of you, he lets them trail over your puffy clit, making your hips buck one last time before you collapse bonelessly against Solomon, resting your full weight against his firm body, but he doesn't even stagger.

Your breathing is ragged, and your pussy is pulsing with the heavy aftershocks of your orgasm. You lift your head to look at Solomon's beautiful face in the mirror. His cheeks are flushed, and his blue eyes are dark with desire. But the teasing smile is still on his face as he brings the fingers you just came on to his lips and slowly licks them clean, rolling his eyes in pleasure as if your taste is the most delicious thing the self-proclaimed gourmet ever tasted in his long life.

A delighted smile spreads over his face. And with that, Solomon steps away from you, strong hands steadying you, making sure you can stand on your own before he lets go of you.

"If you will excuse me now, please. I have to take care of an urgent matter."

He winks at you and gestures to the big bulge in his tight black pants.

"I can help you with that, darling."

"I know, but not today, sweetheart. Some dishes get even better when you let them simmer for a while."

He grins at you, and you find a matching smile tugging at your lips. Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out,

"Hey, Solomon?"

"Yes, (y/n)?"

"I didn't plan this... I really forgot to bring a change of clothes."

Blue eyes blink at you for a moment, and then loud laughter fills the room. Solomon is shaking from it, holding his stomach as he grins broadly at you.

"Still, congrats on your win! But don't think the game is over yet. This was only the first round. Who knows, maybe I will win the next one."

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first time writing for Solomon. I just couldn't resist anymore!! He has been one of my faves for a while already, and ever since we moved in with him in Nightbringer, I am constantly spinning more and more out of control aaaaaah I want him so bad!!!

I hope you enjoyed this little story and that my characterization was ok. I decided that as a fellow Sagittarius, Solomon surely loves a little game where he has to chase the object of his desires and gets chased in return. It makes things so much more exciting :) There might be another part someday. I mean, as Solomon said, the game is still on, and we still need to get that sorcerer dick ;)

Please let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs make me happy!

[inlovewithpandora]

ᥫ᭡ — Cut The Cameras

Artists — Hobie Brown x fem!influencer!reader

Lyrics — While you're filming a video for your YouTube channel Hobie walks in your studio and sees you in some revealing attire. When he sees your ass spilling out your shorts all he wants to do is bend you over and fill you up.

Genre — Oneshot

Music Advisory — lighty Halloween themed, subtle fluff, smut, porn w/ plot, afab!reader, p in v (unprotected), overstimulation, mention of creaming/squirting, implied handcuff usage, imagined as black!reader but you can always imagine reader differently

Duration — 1.1k words

Words from Artist — This is my first Hobie smut post so I’m excited to share it with y’all! I wrote this around October but I didn’t post it due to my hiatus so I’m posting it now. Always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions! I hope you enjoy!!

Current Platforms — main m.list・atsv taglist・navigation

You stand in front of the mirror making sure your outfit, makeup, and hair are up to your standards before turning on your camera. The intro card begins to play and once it finishes, a smile spreads across your lips and you say your opening line. “Hey, guys! Today, I’m finally doing a Halloween costume haul since a lot of you requested it. I ordered ten costumes from Fashion Nova and I’ll link everything in the description so you can purchase them. Now let’s get into the video!”

—

You’ve been filming for almost thirty minutes and have shown four different costumes. Once you change into something new you turn the camera back on. “This is the next one.” You turn in a circle, showing off your costume that’s the scandalous version of inmate attire. “I really like this costume, I think it’s snug in all the right places and I love how the color orange looks on me.” As you continue talking to the camera about the costume, showing them the silver handcuffs that came as an accessory, you hear the door to your video room open, making you turn your head to see who is coming in, even though you have a feeling who it is.

Hobie walks in with a confused expression, wondering why you were standing in front of the camera wearing clothing that accentuated parts of your body he didn’t want the world to see. “Hey, baby!” You come over, grab his hand and pull him into the camera’s view. “I’m glad you’re here because I’m making a video for Halloween costumes and I want your opinion.”

You spin around so he can get a full view and just from that small moment, he can see the slight jiggle of your ass that’s spilling out your shorts and your breast moving upward before resting in their normal position. “It looks amazin’.” He walks right behind you, resting his head on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist. “You look so sexy in this.” He mumbles before starting to nibble on your earlobe.

You can feel him flush against you, pressing his growing bulge into the swell of your ass. By the huskiness of his tone and by his actions you can tell what is on his mind. “Hobie, I can’t right now. I have to finish this video.” You tell him while grabbing his arms, trying to free yourself from his hold. You’re determined to get this video finished today because you want to have it edited and uploaded by the end of the week, especially since you haven’t been posting lately due to your busy schedule.

Hobie grumbles at your words and tightens his grip on your waist so you don’t have the ability to escape his firm hold. “We can make a video of our own if you like.” You can practically hear the smirk on his lips as he hints to creating a porno. His hands begin to travel to his favorite part of your body, your beautiful cunt. By gliding his hand down your stomach, he finally reaches your pussy and once he does he cups it, rubbing his fingers across the clothed area. “C’mon, love, I know you want this too. Let me give it to you.” Hobie knows that you weren’t going to give in, that’s why he’s resorting to one of your weaknesses. He turns his head a little and begins to plant kisses on your neck, swirling the tip of his wet tongue on your skin while lightly sucking, creating the first of many hickeys.

“I-Okay, Hobie, y-you win.” Your voice is soft and quiet with a hint of a quiver, feeling your heart pounding inside your chest from the sensation of Hobie’s current attack on your neck. You know that his advances would only increase and that he isn’t afraid to strip you and bend you over with the camera rolling, so you decide to give in and let him have his way. You reach out in front of you and click the power button and once you see it completely shut off, you turn to Hobie with a small smile across your lips. “I’m all yours.” Your voice holds much enthusiasm and lust as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss, and before you know it your legs are wrapped around his waist as he carries you to your shared bedroom.

—

“Hobie, s-slow down! It's too much!” You cry out, feeling his mushroom tip pounding against your cervix while keeping his hand tight on your hips. Hobie is brutally attacking your cunt, slamming his pelvis against your ass, making sure you are receiving every inch of his lengthy dick. Everything is becoming too much since you have come multiple times before this round, so your pussy is far past overstimulated.

Hobie knows that he’s pushing you past your limits, but he has faith that his baby can take it. “I know, baby, but this is the last one. You can cum one more time for me, can’t you?” He coos as he runs his hand down your spine, pushing your back into a deeper arch which allows him to hit new angles of your g-spot. Now, since you’re in a new position, he is hitting the spongy part of your walls, causing your legs to tremble underneath him, a sign that you are close to achieving your next orgasm. “Atta, girl, I knew you could do it f’me. Cream on this dick.” Hobie encourages you with a hard smack on your ass, making your body shudder from the impact.

“Oh, shit!” Your next sentences are jumbled together as your brain short-circuits so the best words you can vocalize are profanities besides your boyfriend's name that all come out in moans. Your cunt begins to clench around his shaft and soon after you come, your cream begins to coat his dick, and your juices squirt onto his abdomen. Hearing the lewd noises coming from your lips, and the squelching sounds coming from your wetness cause Hobie to release his warm seed into your empty womb.

Hobie gives you a few more long thrusts, making sure his semen has reached your uterus before he pulls out. When he withdraws his length from your warmth and lets go of your hips, your body goes limp and falls onto the bed, not having enough strength to do anything else but relax. Hobie can’t help but chuckle at how fucked out you are, but in his defense, he just couldn’t hold back, not when you looked so sexy and desirable in your Halloween costume.

When you finally can muster up some energy, you turn over and are met with Hobie's brown eyes staring down at you with a smirk on his lips, already thinking about fucking you again even though he promised this was the last time. “One more round, baby and this time we’re using the handcuffs.”

Previous Song

Editor — @justmemyselfandthemoon

Fanbase — @inspace1 @phoenixx69 @savagemickey03 @cxsmiclore @soilmayo @liyahsocorro @baizzhu @solanawrld @onlyloaksgf @popeheywardssecretgf @number1gal @taylormarieee @toneystank-3000 @h3art-l3ss @mellagzz @em-x0 @3zae-zae3 @beargracecanbeanyone @miguellover6969 @strawberryclouds22 @ban-al3x @kxllanxtdoor @lorarri @maxlynn17 @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap @miunmoxo @d0ubl-tr0ubl3 @tater-tot0423

[scandinavianfairytale]

Filthy

Pairing: Senator Steve Rogers x Assistant Reader

Warnings: This is straight up filth 😅 18+, Rated R 🙈 Smut, including but not limited to: oral, PinV, cheating, power dynamic is askew, age gap...

It was wrong. So wrong. So very wrong. For a number of reasons.

1. He was married.

2. He was significantly older than you. And we're talking about that he could be you father older than you.

3. He was your boss.

You could probably think of other reasons why, but these were the major ones. Yet, it didn't stop you from lusting after the senator. And you tried to distract yourself, mainly with work, but whenever you were alone with him, your knees shook, your core throbbed, and your head felt dizzy.

But you couldn't seduce a married man.

Or maybe you could.

Just not as directly as you would any other men.

In the beginning you were subtle. A button opened there, a skirt too short there. A little moan or gasp sprinkled in between the meetings. A hand lingering too long.

Nothing. There was no reaction from Steve.

So then you resorted to blatant tactics. Before going into his office you changed into the same clothes, just two sizes two small. On a number of occasions you even forgot the bra.

Still nothing. He was driving you insane. After every meeting where you basically offered yourself on a silver plate,.you had to go to the restroom and take the edge off. Your hands felt like cheap alternative to what you were actually after. Even at home, your toys paled in comparison to the fantasies that were playing in your head.

In one last ditch effort, you put on the tightest skirt you had in your wardrobe, a skirt that was more like a second skin than a piece of clothing. Ditching the thong, you entered Senator Rogers office, knees shaking in anticipation of what might happen.

He fucked you that night. Three times. Your head was spinning by the end of the fuck session. You were bent over the table, taken on the floor, on all fours, the couch used for support after your arms gave out and then to properly finish the evening, you got down on your knees and sucked him off.

After that, you were hooked. You were insatiable. How could you not be? The way he looked, sounded, and carried himself was enough to drive a woman insane. Put that together with the best fuck you experienced in your life and you got yourself a proper cock whore.

Steve was preparing his notes for tomorrows speech when a soft knock on the door of his office interrupted his train of thought. Your head poked through the crack and he smiled, motioning you in.

"Why are you still here so late?" Steve asked as he patted the chair next to him, insinuating that you can or should sit.

"Well, there are so many things left to do by tomorrow." You replied as you sat down. Steve picked up his scotch and leaned back in the leather sofa he was sitting in.

"There's always a lot of work to be done. And I know all the necessary things have already been done, so why don't you try again, sweetheart." He smirked.

"I wanted to catch you alone." You bit your bottom lip.

"Oh?" Steve cocked an eyebrow.

"I want to help you. I can see you're stressed and I thought, maybe I could help."

"How do you think you could help me?" You stood up, and you took his hand, guiding it under your skirt. Steve's eyes widened as his hand came into contact with your bare and very wet pussy. Your breathing deepend as his guided hand cupped you, and your tummy tensed in anticipation.

"I think you might be right." Steve smirked as he scanned your face, eyes hodded, lips parted and a little flush in the cheeks.

Beautiful.

"Stand wider. I want to feel you." He commanded, and you obeyed, no questions asked. As soon as your skirt was hiked up, Steve's fingers invaded your slippery hole, making you moan. He started fingering you, and those wet, squelching noises that he loved started coming from you. Plus combining with your pants and moans...music to his ears.

He knew he was bad. Sick, some would even call him. After all, he was MUCH older than you and in a position of power.

But it's not like you were that innocent either. Not when you flaunted your assests just to get a rise out of your boss. You definitely were not innocent when you grabbed his tie, pulling him into a supply closet at the Gala and giving him the best head he's ever had, while his wife was looking for him. And especially not when after just swallowing his cum, you talked to his wife, laighing with her as if you were good friends.

And it's not like he didn’t feel the guilt. His wife was the love of his life. They made a life together. A good life. He still loved her. Steve knew he would always love Peggy. He knows he will never love anyone else, but love and lust are not the same. Missionary sex once a month in the shared bed is not the same as the risky, almost violent, ball busting sex in all positions in all places at all times pf the day or night.

"Senator." You moaned, as you stopped holding back your need and your hips started gyrating against his hand. That. That right there, that was what sealed the deal for him. That was when he realized that while it was a regrettable mistake, he was going to make it again and again. And again.

"Are you gonna cum?" Steve's eyes darkened as he watched your pussy grinding against his hand and knuckles and how your juices oozed out, dripping down his forearms.

"Uh-huh" Your needy voice surprised you. You have never been this needy before.

"Come here." He demanded, his other hand grabbing your hips, steadying them and he blew on your hot pussy, making you throw your head back, screaming in pleasure. Steve smirked before delving next to his fingers, and he started lapping at your juices, savoring the taste like a starved man.

"More. Pleaseee, senator." You begged.

"Call me Steve." He smirked and he stopped everything he was doing, making you keen.

"Steve! Please, don't stop." You uncleanched your eyes, but he could see how much you wanted to roll your eyes in pleasure.

"Better. Now cum, sweetheart, let me taste you, properly."

It took only a few thrusts before you squirted all over his face. He held you in place, saving you from crumpling down on the floor as your knees shook. Steve kissed your pussy, smiling up at you as your breathing started getting back normal.

"Let me take care of you." You whispered as you straddled his hips, opening his trousers and pulling his painfully hard cock out before slowly sinking on him, your overly sensitive pussy, pulsating as it made room for his gritty cock.

"You feel amazing." Steve moaned as he felt your wet walls. You kissed him, pressing your body as close as you could, letting both of you feel the stretch. His hands traveled down to your ass, gripping it tight before he started thrusting up.

"Wait." You stopped him. "You just sit here, I'll do everything."

How could he refuse? How could he say no to you, really?

Sure enough, you got to work, grinding against his pelvis, thrusting your hips up and down, sending shivers and pulses down to your tiptoes. But Steve could not just sit still while you did all the work. He unbuttoned your blouse and pulled down your bra so your breasts spilled out. He realized all your cloths fit you now, as opposed to a few weeks ago.

"Before we started this, did you change your clothes every time before coming to see me?" He asked as he grabbed your jaw, making you look at him.

"Yes." You moaned. "I wanted to give you a preview."

"You certainly don't leave anything to the imagination, you dirty whore." He smirked and slapped your tit. He thought back to that day when this began. You nervously entered his office, bringing him the files he asked for. Just before reaching him, you tripped, and all the papers fell on the floor. He was going to help you, but then he noticed how tight the skirt you were wearing was and how it stuck to your skin, providing a visible outline of your pussy. At that point, he had been trying so hard to resist the temptation, but having this clear of a view of your pussy, he snapped. He bent you over the desk that night.

"Fuck yes." You screamed as his hand went to your clit and pinched it.

"Come on, you said you wanted to take care of me. Do it." Steve taunted. "Try harder."

You started circling your clit, while grinding at his pelvis. He could feel you clenching around him, and he knew you were close. He pinched one of your nipples, rolling it in between his fingers, while his mouth started sucking on the other.

"God, yes. Steve-I-" Your voice broke as you squirted again. You bucked your hips a couple of more times, before you climbed off of him and kneeled in front of his opened legs. His cock was just perfect, a little red, soaking from his precum and your juices and so thick. Your mouth practically watered at the sight of Senator's Rogers dick.

"Fuck." Steve let out as you took him down your throat. You were always eager to give a blowjob. You knew guys usually don't get good head and women in general don't like giving head. But you fucking loved it. There was so much power in this.

You took him whole, until your nose touched his hair base. Staying there, breathing through your nose, you stared at him.

"Fuck." He groaned as he looked at you.

Finally, you started bobbing your head up and down his shaft, the noises both of you were making were egging you on. One of your hands massaged his balls, while the other stroked his perineum, making the man above you shudder and thrust his hips further into your mouth. You smirked with your mouth full of cock. It really was a power move.

"C'mon, stop playing and make me come." Steve groaned in frustration, slapping you face and shoved your head down to the base of his cock, making you choke. You tapped his thigh and he let you go.

"Use my throat." You leaned back on your heels, opening your mouth, inviting him in. Steve stood up and pushed his cock down your throat again. His hands framed your head, and he started thrusting into you.

"God yes." Steve yelled in ecstasy. Your hands went to your pussy. One started playing with your clit while with the other you shoved three fingers in it.

"That's it, play with yourself." He shoved his cock faster and harder into your mouth. Like he was fucking your pussy and it made you so wet. It was the perfect sinful melody that filled the office. As you listened to him pant and groan, you knew he was close. His thrusts became erratic until finally he slammed your head down his cock and kept you there as he emptied his sack. You came at the same time, he shoved you down last time, squirting again.

As he let you go, you opened your mouth, showing him you swallowed every last drop.

Steve zipped up his pants while you sat in your own release, still panting. He brought you tissues to clean yourself up before helping you stand up and giving you a glass of water.

"Do you feel better?" You asked. Steve let out a chuckle.

"I feel much better. I think tomorrow's speech is going to go smoothly." He observed you. "Let me take you home. You shouldn't be driving this exhausted."

You nodded before taking his hand and letting him take you to his car. Steve let the driver know where to go, and he closed the door, waving you off, before returning back to his office and cleaning the mess you created.

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

Thank you for reading 🙈

The GIF doesn't belong to me 💙

Yeah...so I have no words other than this is filthy 🙈 I'm not sorry though 🙈

[sapphire-writes]

Our Last Summer (modern!HOTD)

part 8 of 10 || series masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: The Kingsroad Country Club hosts its annual gala and auction. An unwelcome guest causes trouble for you and the gang.

word count: 6.2k

rating: Mature/Explicit/18+

warnings below the cut!

warnings: language, fighting, and mentions of violence, slight exhibitionism, oral (male-receiving, ball play), reader domming a lil bit, dirty talk, praise, cum eating, kissing

note: went a lil crazy with this one pls forgive my feral nature

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

as always, comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated but not expected ❤️

“Torture,” Helaena says, her lips in a deep pout, “This is actual torture.”

You glance over at her as you all exit the car that dropped you off at the Kingsroad Country Club. It had just been you, Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena; Alicent had been driven separately several hours earlier to help prepare. 

Helaena smoothes the silver blue dress, looking rather uncomfortable yet stunning. You can’t imagine any of the Targaryens looking bad ever; they’re all blessed with angelic good looks. But Helaena is clearly out of her element in the silk dress and heels. You’d helped her with her makeup, though it was hard to get her to sit still.

You’d gotten ready with Helaena, as Baela was summoned to Dragonstone earlier in the day. The whole family was arriving together, to make an entrance. 

Aegon and Aemond are dressed similarly in suits and ties; the boys truly had it easiest. Though Aemond wore a black tie whereas Aegon wore a deep green one.  

You smooth your own dress, feeling a little self-conscious around the Targaryens. You’d chosen a silky black dress when you’d gone shopping a few weeks ago; it hugs every curve, falling to the middle of your thighs. You’d paired it with some hoops and a layered necklace (borrowed from Helaena). 

“You look incredible, Hel,” you assured her, and she rolled her eyes.

“I mean, I know,” she tells you, “I’m a hot person. You too! Very sexy chic,” she teases, grabbing your hand and twirling you.

Aemond smirks, watching the display. Your cheeks warm as you focus on not tripping in your heels. Helaena stops spinning you, pulling your back against her front.

“Careful, Aemond,” she teases, “I just might steal your girl.”

“Alright, enough,” Aemond says, reaching forward and taking your hand, pulling you from Helaena’s embrace.

She laughs as Aemond pulls you close before closing the car door. Aegon has propped himself against the hood of the car, attempting to light a cigarette. Helaena moves past him, smacking him on the back of the head. The cigarette falls to the ground and Aegon groans.

“Bitch,” he mutters.

“Watch it,” Helaena warns, heading up the steps, “Let’s go find Mom.”

Aegon trails behind her, flicking his lighter shut and shoving it into his pocket. 

Aemond’s fingers are still intertwined with yours as he moves to follow his siblings; you can feel the coolness of the rings that adorn his slender fingers. He stops just at the front of the car, leaning against it until he’s face to face with you. He holds your hand the whole time, pulling you forward gently.

“Shouldn’t we head in?” you ask, now standing between his legs. He drags your hand up, letting it go when it rests on his shoulder.

“In a minute,” he murmurs, bringing his hands to your waist, “First I want to tell you how beautiful you look.”

Your face warms and you blink rapidly, eyes downcast. For someone you originally thought was just a fuckboy, Aemond Targaryen was turning out to be quite the romantic. He somehow knew all the things to say that would send your heart fluttering in your chest, and turn your legs to jelly.

Aemond watches your reaction, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles. You wet your lips, looking up at him.

“Tell me then,” you tease, and he gently tugs you forward capturing your lips in a kiss.

It’s slow and passionate; heat curls in your belly along with a desperate ache between your legs. It trickles through your veins, flooding your entire body with euphoria. You’ve never felt this feeling before; this almost painful need for another person. Aemond deepens the kiss, letting his tongue slip into your waiting mouth. He tastes of spearmint, and something spicy; the rum Aegon had insisted you all try before heading over. 

Aemond pulls away, the slight smile still on his face as he rubs circles on your hips with his thumbs.

“You look beautiful,” he tells you, so close you can feel his lips moving with the words he speaks. 

You smile at his words, tilting your head to bump the tip of your nose against his. Aemond releases a breath as you do so, cupping your cheek with one large hand and pressing a softer kiss to your lips. 

“Let’s go,” he tells you, and you head inside.

The Kingsroad Country Club is nothing short of extravagant when you make your way into the main ballroom. You’d deposited your coat in a room down the hall for safekeeping. Your eyes are wide as saucers as you take in the gorgeous arrangement of colorful flowers throughout the room, and cream-colored silk streamers that hang from the ceiling.

Ice sculptures of various mythical creatures are scattered throughout the room, several of them dragons you can’t help but notice. Everyone is dressed to the nines; you’ve never been to such a fancy event. You spot Sara, clad in a deep purple dress and she waves at you, nudging Cregan who stands beside her. He gives you a friendly wave as well.

Floris is here; you spot her helping explain something to an older woman. She smiles at you brightly and mouths talk later, before returning to her task. Your chest warms as you scout the crowd for Baela and Rhaena. You know they’d arrived before you as you received a frantic text from Baela as you were getting ready. Help me, followed by a skull emoji. 

“I’ll get you a drink,” Aemond murmurs, leaning down to speak in your ear. You nod, continuing to look for the twins, and he walks over to the bar.

Helaena’s silver head comes into view; she’s standing next to Alicent who is speaking rapidly. Helaena’s expression is pained and she tugs her shoulder away from her mother’s reaching hand. The dynamics of this family are throwing you through loops. 

You hear a familiar voice call your name, and turn to see Will Tyrell accompanied by someone you don’t recognize. You give him a friendly smile as he approaches. Will had been more than understanding when you’d reached out to him earlier in the week; you’d told him while you had a lovely time, you thought it would be best to remain friends. 

Will, being the total sweetheart he is, agreed without hesitation. He makes his way over to you, wearing a white button-down shirt with an open dark navy jacket with matching slacks. His brown curls are slicked back against his skull. His friend is dressed similarly; clad in a deep maroon jacket and slacks. 

His features are sharp, almost fox-like. You notice he has rather large ears, hidden behind strawberry-blonde curls and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. 

“Good to see you,” you tell Will, pulling him into a friendly hug. You glance awkwardly at his friend, waiting to be introduced when Aegon joins you. 

“Hughie!” Aegon says, pulling in the stranger with his hand and clasping him on the shoulder, “Been a while man.”

“Yeah, good to see you,” he answers with a grin, “Been in Highgarden for most of the summer.”

His eyes drift over to you, “Hugh Florent.”

He holds his hand out which you shake, and smiles politely. Hugh’s eyebrow raises as you tell him your name, gaze flickering to Will who is lost in conversation with Aegon. Something about sharks from what you can hear. 

“You’ve been hanging with Will this summer, yeah?” Hugh asks, lips curving into a slight smirk. 

“We’ve been out a couple of times, yeah,” you tell him, as Aemond returns to your side. You feel him slide an arm around your waist, gently tugging you closer to his warm body.

Hugh’s eyes flicker between you both as Aemond hands you a glass of champagne. You thank him, taking a small sip; the bubbles leave a tingling sensation on your tongue.

“Aemond,” Hugh says with a grin, “You’ve decided to make an appearance.”

“My mother organized the gala and auction,” Aemond answers, his voice rather cold, “Important to support her.”

“Are you bidding on anything?” Hugh asks, placing his hands in his pockets.

“If something catches my eye,” Aemond answers, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

Hugh’s eyes slide over to you once more.

“Seems like something already did,” Hugh comments, as Will hands him a beer, “Thanks, man.”

You feel Aemond’s arm tighten around you, and he gives Hugh a tight smile, eye narrowing slightly. You glance up at him, feeling the tension rolling off his lean, muscular form. Aemond tilts down to your height, his lips beside your ear.

“Have you seen Baela yet?” he asks softly, and you shake your head, “I saw her while I was getting your drink; I’ll take you to her.” 

And with that, Aemond leads you away from Hugh, giving him a polite nod as you exit. Aemond keeps his arm around you as you move through the crowd and onto the large patio where some guests have begun mingling.

“Who is he?” you ask, keeping your voice low.

“One of Aegon’s fraternity brothers,” Aemond answers, jaw clenched, “Best to stay away from him.”

You couldn’t agree more. The uneasy feeling in your stomach from the interaction with Hugh doesn’t last long, as you spot Baela and Rhaena, along with Daemon and Rhaenyra. Luke is seated next to his mother fiddling with his tie. Rhaenyra scolds him before running her hand over the back of his head. 

Baela tilts her wine glass upwards, finishing the dregs before abandoning the glass on the table. Her eyes widen as she sees you and she uses the moment to pull away from her father and stepmother. Daemon makes a face but you watch Rhaenyra slide her hand into his, shaking her head gently. 

Baela’s arms sling around your shoulders pulling you into a tight hug. She smells like the perfume you got her for her last birthday; light and floral. 

“Holy shit you smoke show!” she comments, admiring your look, “Damn Aemond, you’re a lucky guy.” 

“Insanely,” Aemond agrees.

“You look stunning Baela, holy fuck,” you tell her. Baela is a goddess in her aquamarine-colored dress that clings to every curve. 

Some of her curls are pulled back from her face by silver pins adorned with seahorses with pale blue gemstones for eyes. The rest of her curls hang freely down her back. Glitter shimmers on her chest and arms, matching the highlighter atop her cheekbones. Baela looks the part of a sea enchantress, ready to drag those who cross her to a watery grave. 

Rhaena’s dress is similar, though a shade of pale pink. She waves at you, but stays close to her father’s side, standing between him and Rhaenyra. Her locs hang freely and you can see gemstones sparkling around her eyes.

Baela preens at your praise, giving you a little twirl.

“I mean, it was nothing really,” she says, “Thank god you’re here though, it’s been so boring.”

“How’s your dad?” you ask.

“Fine, I guess,” she says with a sigh, “He got what he wanted. The happy little family all together.” She crosses her arms in front of her. 

“No Jace?”

“He said he didn’t think he’d be back in time,” she reminds you, “Regatta is still 2 weeks away, he’ll be back for Luke.”

“That’s good,” you tell her. Luke looks lost without his brother. Smaller. 

Baela sighs, looking back at her family. Rhaena jerks her chin, motioning for Baela to rejoin. 

“Gods,” Baela grumbles, “Probably another picture. I had to take one with Rhaenyra earlier.”

“Sorry,” you tell her, wincing.

“It’s whatever at this point,” Baela says, rolling her eyes, “Catch you in a bit? The fireworks are supposed to be really cool this year.”

You nod, giving her hand a squeeze.

“You got this,” you tell her and she smiles, her eyes sad.

“Thank you,” she says, turning to Aemond, “Take care of my girl.”

“Will do,” Aemond promises. 

Baela turns back suddenly. 

“Shoot, will you do me a favor?” she asks, and you quickly nod, “Grab my phone? It's in the coat room. It’s my black one with the seahorse buttons.”

“Of course,” you tell her as Rhaena calls her name, “Go, go I’ll grab it and be right back.”

Baela thanks you again, heading back over to Rhaena and the others. You glance up at Aemond, handing him your glass. 

“I’ll be right back,” you tell him.

“Want me to come with you?” he asks.

“It’s alright, I’ll only be a moment,” you assure him, “Besides, maybe check on Hel? She looks like she’s in pain.”

Aemond chuckles slightly but agrees as you head out of the ballroom and down the hall. The music dies as you make your way further to the uninhabited side of the country club, pushing open the glass doors that lead to the smaller room where all the coats have been kept. 

There are other things present as well, some auction items to be revealed later in the night. You make your way to the women’s coats, fingering through them for Baela’s. It’s easy to spot with the buttons and you grab her phone, sliding it between your breasts. You remove your phone, as that’s where you’d been stashing it, and check your notifications.

“Hiding from someone?” a voice calls and you turn around, startled. 

Your phone drops from your hand, landing on the ground with a loud thump. Hugh Florent winces apologetically, leaning forward to grab it. He holds it out to you.

“Thanks,” you tell him, taking your phone with a tight smile.

“No problem,” he says, moving deeper into the room before throwing himself down onto a nearby chaise lounge, “I always try to escape these things too, they’re terribly boring.”

He pulls out a cigarette from his suit pocket, placing it between his lips before lighting it. The sweet smell of smoke fills the air, making your nose wrinkle. 

“You’re not hiding from Will, I hope?” he asks, before exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“I’m not hiding from anyone,” you tell him, “I don’t think you’re allowed to smoke in here.”

A smile forms on his face around the cigarette that dangles from his lips.

“Our little secret then,” he says, causing the hair on your arms to stand on edge, “Want one?”

“No,” you tell him, “I should be getting back.”

“Stay a minute,” he insists.

“I really-”

“Stay,” he says, his tone more commanding this time, “Keep me company. Don’t be rude.”

Your face warms, the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and a lump begins to form in your throat. You hate feeling like this. Like you want to tell him to go fuck himself and leave the room. But your feet are glued to the floor and you stand, frozen in place. 

Hugh smiles at his victory and your obvious discomfort. You just need a minute, then you’ll go. C’mon, leave the room. Aemond is waiting. 

“You getting on with Will then?” he asks, and your stomach lurches. 

“We’ve gone out,” you tell him. 

“But you’re with Targaryen now?” Hugh clarifies and you nod.

If it's one thing men respect, it's another man having some sort of claim to you. The thought sours your stomach and causes tears to prickle in the back of your eyes. Your heart is beating against your ribs like a rabbit’s foot. 

You don’t suppose men ever feel this way. Like prey. 

“Well, if one-eye gets boring,” he drones, and you flinch at the cruel nickname, “You’re welcome to my bed anytime.”

Your lips curl in disgust.

“Excuse me?” 

“I’m just down the way a bit,” he says with a shrug, “Since you’re keen to give it up for King’s Landing residents.”

Your jaw drops at his insult, and suddenly adrenaline floods through you, your feet unstuck. The fear that was trickling through your veins moments ago is replaced with white-hot anger.

“Go fuck yourself,” you tell him, through gritted teeth.

Hugh leaps from the chaise as you go to leave, reaching out and grabbing your forearm, holding you in place.

“Just teasing, that’s all,” he insists, tightening his grip as you attempt to pull away.

“Get off me!” you yell, turning and slapping Hugh across the face. 

“Hey!” a deep voice echoes through the room and the pressure disappears from your forearm. A few tears slip past your lower lids as you meet the eyes of Cregan Stark. 

He walks forward into the room, his eyes locked on Hugh, who has backed up several paces.

“Everything's al-”

“Shut the fuck up man,” Cregan snaps at him, before turning to face you.

You release a shaky breath, wiping your hands over your cheeks, drying the tears that escaped. 

“Are you alright?” Cregan asks, ducking to meet your height. He places one hand on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing circles on your flesh.

You nod, struggling to find the words to thank him.

“Yeah….I’m okay…just a little shaken up,” you tell him, trying to keep your voice steady. Hugh straightens up, dusting his dress pants and running a hand over his gelled hair. 

“Let’s get you back to the party,” Cregan says softly, using his body to shield you from Hugh’s view. 

You let Cregan lead you toward the door, stopping briefly to whisper, “Please don’t say anything; I don’t want to make this a thing.”

Cregan’s expression is pained but he gives you a curt nod as the door opens. 

“You guys find any coolers in here?” Aegon asks, trying to squeeze by, “Waiters aren’t filling me up fast enough and the bar cut me off-”

Aegon’s sentence dies as he looks at you, his eyebrows concaving together in confusion. You watch as the gears whirl in his head as his eyes flicker between you and Hugh; your tear-stained cheeks, his tense posture, Cregan’s protective stance.

“Aegon don’t-”

Cregan’s words fall on deaf ears as Aegon pushes by you both and slams his hands into Hugh Florent’s chest. 

“AEGON!” you call.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, huh?” Aegon growls, grabbing Hugh by his shirt, “That’s my brother’s girl you’re messing with.”

“Relax bro,” Hugh says, that sly smirk still plastered on his face, “We were just talking, she didn’t have to get all upset-”

“I’m sure Aemond will love to hear that,” Aegon says roughly, “Go be a sleazeball somewhere else- not at my family’s fucking club.” Aegon releases him with a shove, straightening up and looking at you.

“You alright?” he asks, and you nod, lips parted in shock. You’d hardly expected Aegon of all people to come to your defense. 

He moves forward ushering you and Cregan back down the hallways towards the main ballroom.

“Let’s not mention this to Aemond right now,” Aegon says, on the opposite side of you, “I don’t think that-”

A whistle comes from behind you, as you’re heading out of the ballroom and onto the lit porch where most of the patrons have retired to watch the fireworks. You catch Aemond’s eye from across the sea of people, watching the corner of his mouth twitch into his familiar smirk. Your heart leaps into your throat, eyes wide. Aemond reads your upset expression instantly and begins moving forward toward you. 

You turn as Hugh enters, his tongue held between his teeth. It seems he’s not eager to end this. 

“You’re one to fucking talk, Egg,” Hugh says through a laugh.

“Hugh, I swear to-”

“I didn’t know she was spoken for,” Hugh continues, “Must be a real ego boost for your bro, to be hitting Tyrell’s sloppy seconds.”

Aegon surges forward, but Cregan blocks him with his chest. You raise your eyebrows, cheeks hot with humiliation. Will has overheard and makes his way over to you as well. 

“Is this guy for real?” you ask, not believing what you’re hearing, “Aegon just leave it!”

Aegon gives an exasperated chuckle, holding both hands out in front of him. Will frowns, shaking his head at his friend. Several guests have started to watch the scene unfold.

“Not cool dude,” he says, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Just standing up for you, bro,” Hugh insists.

“Well don’t,” Will says, before turning and giving you an apologetic look. 

Aemond is weaving his way closer, still moving through the crowd as Aegon insists to Cregan he’s fine. Cregan reluctantly steps in front of you and Aegon, pushing open the glass doors leading outside. He holds them open for you both, standing on the deck letting in the warm night air and music that plays from the live band. 

You think you’re in the clear as Aemond squeezes by Cregan into the room. His hands find yours and you press yourself closer to him. He releases one of your hands to cup your cheek, violet eye flickering over your face taking in every inch. He holds your cheek carefully, as though you may shatter in his palm. 

“What happened?” he murmurs, gaze moving to rest on Hugh. You cover his hand with your own.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you assure him, feeling your anxiety calm in his presence. 

“If she’s not putting out, maybe Helaena is,” Hugh calls to Aegon, “She’s been looking pretty hot lately-”

Everything happens very fast after that. Will tells Hugh off, pushing his shoulder lightly as Aegon lurches forward once more. This time, he’s quicker than Cregan and he sends Hugh Florent tumbling to the ground. 

“Asshole!” you yell at Hugh, just as Aegon collides with him, “Oh shit, shit shit!”

“Aegon!” Aemond calls, pulling his brother from Hugh. 

“Keep my family’s name out of your fucking mouth!” Aegon snarls as Aemond drags him backward through the door and onto the outdoor space. 

The scuffle has been noticed at this point, with several people leaning over one another to see what all the ruckus is. Hugh laughs from behind you, wiping some blood that trickles from the corner of his mouth. 

“Still fiery as ever, Egg,” Hugh teases, eyes alight with mischief, “Wondered where that went.” 

It’s Aemond who turns to him now, his gaze cold as ice. He doesn’t say anything, just stares him down until Hugh swallows, and breaks away from his gaze. Hugh coughs, before heading back inside, finally retreating. 

“I’m good, I’m good!” Aegon says to Cregan who is still attempting to corral him.

Helaena pushes through the crowd, a concerned expression on her face. 

“What the fuck happened?” Helaena asks, but Aegon shakes his head.

“He’s a prick, he deserved to be called out that’s all.”

“Now? You think now was the best time to do that?” Helaena growls, raising a brow.

Aegon clicks his tongue, sharply inhaling through his nose. He could tell her what Hugh said, but he stays quiet instead. 

“Great,” Hel says, exasperated, “Mom is going to skin us alive.”

She’s probably right. If you’ve learned anything about Alicent Hightower-Tarageyn, it’s that events like these are important to her. Image is everything. Aegon shrugs, but you can tell the thought of his mother being angry with him makes him anxious; his hands have begun to tremble. 

“Mr. Targaryen,” a security guard says approaching, “My apologies sir but we’ve received several complaints and are going to have to escort you from the party-”

“What?” you ask incredulously, “He didn’t do anything.”

“Ma’am-”

“He was helping me, you can’t kick him out,” you tell them, “If anything Hugh should leave!”

“It’s all good, no no, I’ll go,” Aegon assures them, reaching into the ice bucket on top of the outdoor bar and grabbing a bottle of champagne, “Party’s getting lame anyway.”

He begins walking down the steps and onto the grass that extends off into the golf courses in the distance. 

“Hel? You got a j with you? Wanna blow this place?” he calls, looking back with a lopsided grin.

Helaena smiles at her brother, rolling her eyes.

“Night’s going to hell anyway,” she says with a sigh, “Fuck it I guess.”

She hurries after Aegon, down the steps. 

“C’mon Aem! Live a little!” Aegon calls, walking backward toward the golf course. 

Aemond glances at you and you slip your hand into his, tugging him forward.

“Let’s go,” you tell him, grinning.

You turn suddenly, spotting Baela with Rhaena. Daemon stands behind her, observing the scene along with Rhaenyra who sits beside him. His hand rests on her shoulder as she strokes her protruding pregnant belly.

“Bae!” you call, motioning to her.

Her eyes are sad and she wets her lips looking back at her father.

“C’mon Baela!” Aegon calls, echoed by Helaena.

You can see Daemon’s brows knit together, see him mouthing to Baela trying to get her to stay. But Baela rushes forward with a smile on her face, holding her skirts as she runs down the steps and across the field. You hold your arms open as she barrels into you, embracing you in a spinning hug as you continue further away from the party. 

“Jackpot!” Aegon says, finding a row of golf carts. He jumps in the driver's seat and Helaena sits beside him. Aegon reaches back to pat the backseat, “My lady,” he says motioning for Baela to sit. 

She does with a laugh, just as Rhaena tumbles down the hill, with Sara in tow; their fingers laced together. 

They grab the next one just as Aegon revs the engine, taking off down the green hills. You can hear Helaena cheering as you watch them bob and weave through the grassy hills. Rhaena and Sara take off moments later.

You and Aemond start the next one, driving it slower than the rest at a more leisurely pace. You lean your head back, looking up at the stairs, and letting the warm summer night air pass over you. 

You can hear the laughter of your friends growing louder as the sounds of the gala begin to die in the distance.

You trail behind them for a while, before taking a detour down a more secluded part of the golf course. Aemond throws the golf cart in park, looking over at you. You reach in between your boobs, pulling out Baela’s phone and placing it on the dashboard with your own on top of it.

“What happened?” Aemond asks, his fingers stroking your arm.

“Nothing important,” you assure him, “Just Hugh being a douchebag. Aegon really helped me out, I’ll have to thank him.”

Aemond hums to acknowledge your comment.

“Aegon’s nothing if not loyal,” Aemond agrees, “Like a golden retriever.”

You snort at the comparison. 

“It was really nice,” you tell him, “How do you get asked to leave your own club?”

“Our family is just one of many donors,” Aemond tells you, “It’s not like we truly own the place.”

You nod, turning in the seat to face him.

“Where have they gone?” you ask, listening closely for the sound of your friends.

They must have gone pretty far ahead, all you can hear is the crickets chirping and the gentle sounds of waves crashing against the rocks in the distance. 

“Don’t know,” Aemond comments, “Here, let's sit here,” He motions to the rather spacious backward-facing rear seats, “Bet we can see the bay.”

You exit, sitting down on the rear seats. Sure enough, you can just make out Blackwater Bay in the distance. You lean into Aemond as he sits beside you.

You reach forward, placing your hand on his upper thigh beginning to stroke smooth circles. You mean it innocently enough to begin with; just wanting to be touching him in some capacity. But his breathing turns shallow, and you can soon feel his cock hardening, straining through his slacks. 

You move your hand over his bulge, squeezing gently, before letting your hands fiddle with the zipper. Aemond remains very still beside you.

“Can I?” you ask, heart, pounding with anticipation as you glance up at him. 

“Fuck, of course, you can,” he tells you as you continue to palm his bulge, “Anything you want.”

You ease the zipper down and dip your hands in to remove his half-hard cock from his slacks; running your hand up and down at a leisurely pace. Aemond hisses as you squeeze him; you can feel him pulsating in your palm. It sends warmth pooling in between your thighs and you wet your lips in anticipation.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask, innocently tilting your head to the side.

“Don’t tease me,” he says through gritted teeth.

You slide off the seat, positioning yourself in the space between his legs. He widens his stance, letting his knees fall open. Kneeling in front of him you give his cock a tug. 

“I don’t really think you’re not in a position to make demands,” you tease, ignoring his command. 

Aemond releases a throaty moan as you lean forward, wrapping your lips around the swollen head. You hum in appreciation, looking up at him through your lashes as you suckle at the tip.

“Fuck,” he whispers, as you widen your mouth letting your tongue taste the underside of his shaft, paying special attention to the vein that travels up his length. 

You drag your tongue up slowly, removing your lips and letting your tongue slide over his slit gathering the precum that leaks from it.

You swallow what your tongue collected, pumping him a few more times with just your hand. He’s so big. The perfect girth where your fingers struggle to touch each other when your hand is wrapped around him. 

Long, hard, and heavy; always demandingly pressed against you, eager to be buried inside you in whichever way you preferred. Such a pretty cock Aemond has it drives you fucking insane. You haven’t had the time yet to appreciate it the way you’d like to. But now is your opportunity. 

“You’re so pretty,” you comment, eyes wide as you watch your hand engulf him.

Aemond lets out a breathy laugh.

“Stop it,” he begs, his voice breaking into a slight whine; it makes you smile.

You lean forward, engulfing him fully in your mouth- at least as much as you can before you’re forced to pump the rest with your hand. Aemond’s hand flies to the back of your head keeping your mouth securely on him. You begin to move, dragging your mouth up and down along his length, and swirling your tongue around him. 

You hum at the feeling of his hand tightening on the back of your head as you continue. 

“Gods,” he groans, “So fucking perfect.” 

Your lips tug upwards in what you can manage of a smile with his cock stuffed to the hilt down your throat. You gag slightly as he rocks his hips, pressing further down your throat. Aemond’s head tilts back, his chest rising and falling with his uneven, shaky breath. 

You hollow your cheeks creating more suction as you try to take him deeper in your throat. Your heart is pounding and you try to even your breathing through your nose as you focus on not gagging on his thick length. 

“Fucking hell,” he whines, “Oh gods--- fuck that mouth.” His hips lurch forward and you moan around him, drool dribbling out the corner of your mouth and onto your chin. 

Aemond’s hand grips the back of your head, holding on for dear life as your hand joins your mouth in its efforts. Lewd, wet noises fill the summer air and you pull off him with a gasp.

“Seven hells,” he whimpers, as you lean forward, mouthing at his balls. 

You eagerly press your tongue against them, rolling them against your mouth as you continue to jerk him off with your hand. Aemond’s a mess, head falling back, eye squeezing shut in pleasure. You suckle at the soft skin between his balls, alternating your attention between the pair of them. 

“You like that baby?” you murmur, kissing up his shaft, “Like when I play with your balls?”

“Fuck yes,” he whimpers, “Oh fuck, feels so good-” his sentence ends in a desperate whimper as you take him fully in your mouth once more.

You bring your hand to cup his balls, gently massaging them as you suck him off. You love the feeling of having Aemond at your mercy; pride sears through your veins like fire at the messy state of him. The hand that isn’t on your head clutches the back of the seat, digging into the soft tan leather. 

You release him with a pop, tapping the head of his cock on your outstretched tongue. Aemond watches you, eye wide, as you kiss the swollen head of his cock, before smiling up at him. 

“Are you gonna cum?” you ask, as innocently as you can, eyes wide, “Want you to cum in my mouth.”

“Holy fucking--,” Aemond whines, as you suckle at the tip before dragging your lips down the side of his shaft, “Fuck yes, yes I’m gonna cum-” You lick a path up his shaft, engulfing him in your mouth once more.

You know he’s close, you can feel him pulsating in your mouth, but you want to drag this out as long as you can. You know from experience that Aemond isn’t usually the submissive type, and having him like this is a real treat.

“Fuck, gods you’re such a good girl,” Aemond praises as you move your head faster, “Shit..I fucking love this…like you so much..” Your cheeks warm at his praise, and pleasant butterflies flutter in your belly. 

You release him one final time, pumping him with your hand. You’re a drooling mess, hand and face covered in saliva as you grin up at him. 

“Let me taste your cum,” you tell him, “Please, give it to me, I want it so bad.”

“Fucking, yeah fuck I’ll give it to you,” Aemond whines, “So good, so fucking good, oh fuuuck.” His words die with a whimper as his dick twitches in your mouth and his warm, salty release hits the back of your throat.

You moan, taking it all, making sure to keep some in your mouth as you pull off of him. Aemond’s hand finds your chin, angling it upwards.

“Show me,” he asks, and you present your tongue to him before swallowing, “Such a fucking good girl.”

He drags you upwards onto his lap, kissing you harshly tasting his release on your tongue. He moans into your mouth and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“My good girl,” he murmurs between kisses, “Gods you’re perfect. My girl is so perfect.”

You’re preening at his praise, moaning happily against him as he continues to kiss you, moving to press his lips against your neck. 

His fingers move beneath your dress, just as the sound of tires can be heard in the distance, along with yelling. Aemond growls, biting down against your shoulder causing you to cry out at the mixture of pleasure and pain. You lift your hips as Aemond moves his semi-hard cock back into his pants, zipping them.

“This isn’t finished,” he promises, cupping his hand around the back of your neck and kissing you once more, “Don’t think I’m letting you get away with that.”

Anticipation tingles down your spine and you giggle against his mouth.

“What’re you going to do?”

“Oh just you fucking wait,” he murmurs, hands grabbing the meat of your ass. You can feel his smile against your mouth as he kisses you.

“Yo! Lovebirds! Yoo-hoo!” Aegon calls, bringing the golf cart to a screeching stop beside you. 

Helaena lurches forward as it stops, giggling maniacally. You can smell the weed from here, and laugh, pulling yourself from Aemond’s lap.

Aegon dramatically frowns, leaning against the steering wheel, as Sara and Rhaena pull up beside them. His eyes narrow.

“Are we interrupting something?” Aegon asks, tapping his finger against his chin.

“No,” you answer.

“Yes,” Aemond says, not missing a beat.

You slap him playfully on the chest.

“Too bad, we missed you losers,” Helaena sneers, but she gives you a happy smile. 

“Dude, look at the moon!” Rhaena says, stepping out of the cart and laying on the grass. Sara joins her, laying beside her. 

Baela gets out as well, and soon you’re all lying down facing the clear night sky. Sara points out different constellations, which Aegon struggles to identify until Sara is practically holding his hand, pointing to each star. 

Suddenly some sprinklers begin to go off in the distance and Baela chuckles, mentioning you’ll have to leave soon to avoid getting soaked. Aemond’s arm is draped underneath your head, and you curl into him, listening to the sound of his heart beating.

“Come back to mine?” Aemond asks, his voice a low murmur.

You hum, nuzzling against him.

“What about no sleepovers?” you tease and he pulls you closer.

“The rules are null and void,” he says firmly, pressing his lips against your forehead. Warmth floods through you and your chest swells with emotion. 

As you listen to the sound of crickets echoing around you a sharp pain pierces your chest. The month of August has always felt melancholic to you.

A month of endings.

The music of the sprinklers and the crickets suddenly changes into the sound of summer coming to an inevitable end. 

Of you and Aemond coming to an end.

You pull him closer, throwing your leg over his and tucking your head deeper into the crook of his neck. Breathing in his cologne, relishing the feeling of the kiss he places on the top of your head. 

You don’t want to think about that now. August is here, but it’s not over yet. 

This moment here in this field, wrapped up in his arms, is endless.

note: thank you so much for reading!! we've got 2 parts left besties!!

OLS Taglist 1: @talesofoldandnew, @aemondslefteyeball, @urmomsgirlfriend1, @castellomargot, @high-on-darren-criss, @diosademuerte, @padfooteyes, @tempo-rary-fix, @amirawritespoorly, @chainsawsangel, @toodlesxcuddles, @tssf-imagines, @malfoytargaryen, @nina2697, @glame, @joliettes, @yentroucnagol

@grungegrrrl, @melsunshine, @helaenaluvr

bold means tumblr would not let me tag!

[shadamyheadcanons]

For me, Shadow and Amy's dynamic is basically two different types of touch starved in a person

((If any of the gifs on this post aren’t loading for you on mobile--like they aren’t for me--you can download them or check the sources listed. As for desktop, they play just fine, but they won’t line up next to each other like they do on mobile. Tumblr is a comedy of errors.))

Yes! Absolutely. I’ve seen tons of fans say Shadow is prickly and would respond badly to hugs, but canon says otherwise. This is a bad reaction:

[Sonic 06]

Whenever I feel like being sad, I wonder if Bad-Future-06 Silver has ever been hugged.

This is a bad reaction:

[Sonic Unleashed, gif source.]

And I shouldn’t have to say this, but...yeah. These are very bad reactions:

[Sonic X]

[Sonic Generations]

Yikes. I feel bad for both of them.

But this?

[Sonic Adventure 2, gif source.]

This is Shadow’s only canonical hug in the games, and aside from jumping slightly from being snuck up on, he seems to like it just fine.

Just look at that smile! He’s happy. He finds it endearing.

It was a hug from a complete stranger meant for someone else, but he still drank it in--and, given that he’d effectively just lost Maria, he really did need it. It’s the combination of Amy’s gentleness AND her speech that changed his mind. After all, if someone as sweet as her sees something in the humans, maybe they’re not so bad.

My buddy who runs @shadowxamyweek recently reblogged a post about this hug, and their tags sum it up perfectly:

[ID: A screenshot of tags on a post. The tags read:

#official art #4kids #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #YEAH 😭 #listen I read nothing that has happened with them in SA2 as shippy - and i ship them #THIS HUG? THR SPEECH ON THE ARK? #those are two lonely kids #those are two left behind kids #those are two kids so desperate for affection #for two vastly different reasons #Amy loves with her whole chest and will never stop doing so- no matter what happens #and Shadow does too- that is key to remember- Shadow loves... so fucking much... that it hurts #you are RIGHT op when you say this is probably the first time someone has been gentle with him in a long long time #he doesn't even run away #in the game- when Amy flees- he takes a step after her- a moment's hesitation- a 'wait' #this kid NEEDED a hug #and i firmly believe part of the reason Shadow listens to Amy in the end is BECAUSE she is the only person who showed him gentleness #softness and kindness and affection #if only for a moment #fjdodhdofjgor THIS is what i mean when i say 'be gentle- be kind' #it MATTERS #it FUCKING MATTERS

End ID]

Shadow doesn’t hate hugs inherently; it’s just that no one hugs him in the first place...

...aside from one person.

Amy’s easily the most affectionate character in the cast. It’s cute at first glance, but there’s a common thread to every instance that puts a damper on it.

She’s always, ALWAYS the initiator.

She puts more into each hug than anyone else does.

She’s always the last to pull away.

The most reciprocated Amy hug I know of in canon is this one:

[IDW Sonic issue #22]

Which is absolutely adorable...but Amy still initiated. Because it’s always her job. Even the characters who like affection don’t need it the way she does...with one exception.

And this tiny detail just killed me. The little, “wait, come back 😟”

It’s the only time I know of when someone has actually stepped after her like this. In a game where everyone left Amy behind, he wanted to follow her. Mister so-called-prickly didn’t want the hug to end.

Because he’s the only one who needs it as much as she does.

He wants to be held as much as she wants to hold someone else, and no one else is warm and sincere enough for it. Compare these instances:

[IDW issue #6]

Sonic thinks Shadow is wrong about something, so he grabs Shadow’s arm to stop him, and Shadow aggressively wrenches it away and leaves.

[Archie Sonic Universe #23]

But when Amy thinks Shadow is wrong about something and grabs his arm to stop him, he gently removes her hand and thinks about what she has to say.

Even when he doesn’t want to be touched, he makes the distinction between “don’t touch me” and “not right now, please.” These are from two different continuities, of course, but I think the point stands. Amy’s special. He’s gentler with her than he is with other people, and that’s consistent across all canons.

Side note: how often does Amy get to feel special like that? I actually really like that Sonic doesn’t place others in a hierarchy of importance, and I wouldn’t change that about him even if I could...

[IDW issue #2]

...but Amy does play favorites. I want her to feel like she’s someone else’s favorite, too. I want her to have someone who puts her first and likes her best. I think Shadow’s more than capable of that. I believe he craves clinginess like hers deep down, even if he hasn’t consciously figured that out yet.

I have an entire tag for these two being affectionate. My favorite is probably this one.

Of course, there may be those who say I’m reading too much into one (1) hug. And you know what? Maybe they’re right! We need a bigger sample size. Sega, make more characters hug Shadow, please. Let Rouge comfort him after he confides in her about something. Have Omega give him an awkward metal embrace because he read on the internet that organic beings like that kind of thing. Make Shadow himself pull Silver into a hug when he’s breaking down crying from the stress of always having to be a hero. Show Tails accidentally grab onto him out of fear when they’re trapped in a lightning storm, and when he gets embarrassed and pulls away, have Shadow hold him for the rest of the storm and admit he’s not fond of bright lights, either.

[Sonic Boom]

That scene where Shadow and Amy rescue Cream and Cheese from Cryptic Castle? That easily could’ve turned into a cute group hug.

[Shadow the Hedgehog (2005)]

And I have seen some absolutely adorable fanart where he holds Cream’s hand while he and Amy lead her through Cryptic Castle to make sure she doesn’t get lost 🥺

Have Knuckles give him an empathetic bro-pat on the shoulder when he finds out Shadow’s the last one of his race, too.

[Archie Sonic Universe #89]

Have Sonic try to hug him, and then when Shadow inevitably pushes him away and says he doesn’t do hugs, have Amy arrive and latch onto Shadow instead while he tries to stutter out an excuse as to why she’s allowed to and Sonic isn’t.

The most affection Shadow has in recent history is stuff like this...

[Sonic Prime season 2 episode 1]

...where Sonic tries to hug him and Shadow immediately pushes him away, knocks him over, and tries to punch him in the face. Kind of says it all. Amy stands out as the only one with a good track record here.

[IDW issue #36]

Especially when you have him look at her like this when someone else is on the receiving end of that affection.

So in the absence of further evidence, I have no choice but to interpret this in the most Shadamy way possible. Your move, Sega.

[uchispeach]

Happy House (part 2)

Pairing: Singh! Reader x Dark! Rafe Cameron

➥ Warnings: NON-CON touching (somnophilia), violence, obsessive & manipulative behavior, death, naive! reader…

➥ Series Masterlist

The tiles were aligned with a remarkable precision -that was something you learned from the excruciating time you had been staring at the floor-.

Rafe had trusted you enough to complain about the whole situation. And you were feeling quite ashamed by your father’s behavior.

Luring an innocent person with false promises and then kidnapping them was a new low for Singh.

So you simply kept your head low as you felt a weight pulling the mattress down. You had been sitting there for a whole minute, simply playing with your fingers.

“I’ll talk to him” You turned your head to the side, shy eyes locking in with Rafe’s blue ones. He let out a playful scoff, completely dismissing the idea.

“He won’t let me go. That’d be reckless” He seemed to be really secure, and you recognized his view was probably realistic.

“Still, it’s worth the try” You raised your shoulders.

The Cameron boy continued looking upfront, his facial features were undeniably remarked by the moonlight

“Hey. You’re hurt” You pointed out the dried blood on his knuckles.

“It’s not mine” He shrugged you off. “They look inflamed” You insisted at the noticeable bumps on his rough fingers.

The blond continued to ignore you, so you took his hand, standing up while giving him a light tug.

“Come with me. There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom” You pulled again, this time slightly harder. Still, you were conscious that no matter how much force you put into it, the blond wasn’t going to budge unless he wanted to.

You shook him again, making sure to be delicate. This time he gave up, lazily standing up as he eyed you down.

He allowed you to guide him into the reduced space, leaning on the sink.

You struggled to reach the last cabinet, your arm completely stretched when you felt an unknown heat on your back. Big palm squeezed your side as hard muscles rubbed against the thin fabric of your nightgown.

“There” He groggily whispered into your ear, hotness making you feel ticklish. He finally reached for the red bag, leaving it right on your hands.

“Thanks” You said back, leaning on him as you turned your head around. He simply rubbed your waist before stepping back.

A soaked cotton cloth laid between your small palm while you examined the state of his injuries. One small cut here and there and some inflammation was all you could see, still the red on them was abundant.

Rafe noticed your face turning into a scowl at the metallic smell, making him smirk in a wolfish way. “Are you scared of a little blood, princess?”

“No” You gulped, massaging one of them with the cloth. Your movements were soft and careful, a real contrast to his.

He simply chuckled, chest rumbling in reaction to your cute ways.

His hands were almost completely clean, and as you wiped away some residue from a thick ring, you couldn’t help but notice the detail to it.

“It’s pretty” You pointed out. Rafe focused on the piece of silver, grimacing a bit on the memories it brought to him. “That’s a family ring” His response came out with some roughness to it.

“Well, it’s gorgeous” You continued your task, not really facing him. “My dad gave it to me. That’s when I knew he finally saw me as a real man.” There was a hint of proudness in his tone, and that made you smile.

“He must be really proud” Your eyes finally locked with his sharp ones. He dryly hummed at your words. “Having such a proactive son.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, looking puzzled. “You barely know me” He let out with no softness to it, “But I can tell you’re no quitter…and you’re brave” You smiled lightheartedly.

The Cameron boy was amused, never in his life has he heard such words directed his way. He felt weird, a new sensation making its way on the pit of his stomach.

(…)

“Don’t” Your hand wrapped around Rafe’s wrist. He was taken aback, surprised by your sudden eagerness “Sleep here” You said in a shy tone.

The mattress was huge and soft, unlike the dusty rug lying on the floor. “I mean, you must be tired and- I just-” You stumbled upon your words, afraid of being too pushy.

The dirty blond seemed unfazed as he simply pulled the covers down and plopped himself on the bed, completely comfortable with your suggestion.

The heat exuding from his hefty body was enough to get you nervous, not really used to sharing your sleep with someone else, less with someone as imponent as the blond.

Now, with your palm holding your head as you saw him uninterestedly lying on his back, you couldn’t help but feel the need of reassuring him. “They’ll let you go in no time” You weren’t sure why you said that, knowing it was probably a lie.

His eyes darkened, no real expression on his stoic face. You got the hint, not wanting to push his bottons, you got on your side -facing the opposite wall-.

And as you wished him a good night, you couldn’t avoid the sensation of being overly exposed. Still, with your nerves on peak, you were able to fall asleep in a decent amount of time.

Contrary to you, the Cameron boy was wide awake, senses thrilled as he heard your peaceful breathing. Quiet snores left you as you laid in obliviousness.

Rafe didn’t know why, but it gave him some sort of satisfaction to see you so defenseless; making him feel as if your vulnerability was exclusive to him.

The way in which your nightdress’ strap slightly slid down your shoulder was driving him insane. So much flesh on display that he felt the need to bite onto it, just to get a taste of your softness.

He gave in not long after, positioning himself right behind you.

In such proximity he was able to get a good grip of your scent, so sweet and comforting that he got the urge of burying his nose on your silky hair.

Silk. You were pure silk; silky hair, silky skin, silky clothes and silky personality. Such a contrast to his rough edges.

Without much thought, he grabbed some strands between his rough fingers, getting them close to his nose, sniffing the fresh aroma. Then, he proceeded to rub two digits against the bare skin of your neck -going up and down, from the side of your ear to your clavicle-.

The strap got farther down, tempting the blond. He took the lead, playing with the line of fabric before pulling it.

He could see your breasts slowly spilling out of the flimsy dress, noticing how they both got perky at the cold breeze.

Your mounds of flesh felt warm and doughy under his rough touch. He was careful to be delicate as he cupped one of them with his open palm. Still, in your sleepy face a frown formed.

You squirmed a little on your sleep, but that only seemed to encourage the blond to continue exploring.

Once his fingers reached your hardened nipples, a hoarse groan left his lips, hips bucking unintentionally against your soft ass.

He twisted them with contained fervor, as he felt himself hardening.

The white fabric pulled over your thighs as the blond continued to grind against your round buttocks, causing you to whimper under your breath. Rafe’s arm found its way between your thighs, hiked up skirt allowing him to massage the inner part of your legs.

Your warmth crawled all the way to his bones, covering him completely; making him want to hold you down until he consumed all of it.

He squeezed your inner thigh with frustration. Pants suffocation his desire for you. He couldn’t understand it, the boiling wish to see more of you, to taste more of you -just as if it was a need-. It was ridiculous how pent up he felt after barely touching you.

You unconsciously leaned onto him, riding up your dress and allowing some pink lace to peek under it. Rafe took the invitation; quickly, his fingertips were all over your clothed cunt. Running up and down as he felt you wriggling uncomfortably under his touch. His digits pressed harder against your underwear, creating a wet spot on it.

He smirked at that, rubbing circles over your entrance, feeling the wetness soak the fabric up.

The stimulation had you shaking so sweetly against him, breathing heavier than before as a melodic mewl reached his ears. His mouth was now on the side of your smaller face, rubbing against your puffy cheek as he heard you moaning at the friction his unrelenting fingers created.

And just as he was about to pull the piece of lace and cotton aside, he saw you slowly incorporating out of your sleep; limbs stretching and eyes opening. He backed up slowly, digits leaving your heat as he pretended to rest on his back.

Your wake up was abrupt, and the constant panting was a proof of it. Your eyes were wide open as you took in your surroundings.

The Cameron boy was deep in his own slumber and you felt yourself growing calmer. You went back to your previous position, doing your best to resume your rest.

The last thing you wanted to do was disturb the boy’s sleep.

(…)

Your heartbeat increased in less than a second, a choked scream was all you could let out as a strange hand pulled you back onto the mattress.

Your feet were already on the floor as you felt the grip of who you now recognized to be Rafe holding you down.

“Oh God” You turned to face him, your free hand on your chest as you looked into his sharp eyes.

You couldn’t help but cover your mouth as soon as you realized the loudness of your voice, suddenly scared of being heard by a passing guard.

“I’m sorry” you said in a muffled tone, looking like a frightened fawn.

His shirt had been lifted up by his sleepy moves, showing his toned torso. You embarrassingly looked away, waiting to be freed by his firm hold.

“Are the guards left?” He asked in a groggy voice, blinking aggressively as he incorporated on a sitting position. “Yes” you answered shyly “I should leave” you said even quieter.

At that, he only nodded, letting your sore wrist go as he looked intently at you.

While shutting the piece of wood behind you, you couldn’t ignore the burning sensation of Rafe’s intense gaze still following your every step.

(…)

“That’s ridiculous, Y/N” Your father scoffed, continuing to look through his investigation files without paying you much mind.

“But dad, we can not force him to stay here” You tried to talk some sense into him. “His family is probably waiting on him” Still, no response.

“How would you feel if I was the one being held back against my will?” Singh lifted up his view from the bunch of photos and documents.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, you insolent girl” His finger now pointed aggressively at you.

“A treasure that goes back hundreds of years in history will take commitment and sacrifice…This search is way beyond your understanding” Your father’s words were conclusive, harsh tone and harsher look thrown your way.

“But, what if he actually doesn’t have the diary” You pushed again, this time being more careful with your tone.

“The diary is the last piece of the puzzle. The only way to translate the directions to El Dorado…Do you really think he’ll be stupid enough to give it away just like that?” His brows furrowed together in exasperation while his digits massaged the space in between them.

“I-” You were interrupted by a loud bang on the table. The glass of scotch shook at the violent ways of your caregiver. “Enough with this nonsense…Get out of my office before I lose my temper!” He ordered in his warning voice, letting you know he wasn’t playing around.

“Yes, sir” You looked down while silently slipping out of the room, feeling quite hopeless.

(…)

The refined wood felt great under your fingertips, such a shame it wasn’t what you were expecting.

Sure, the dresser was exquisite, brought right from India and made by the most skilled hands of famous artisans. Still, it didn’t fulfill your expectations.

You weren’t too materialistic, you appreciated love and care. But your father wasn’t the best with the latter ones, so he preferred to surround you with luxury.

Your birthday wasn’t at all like you wanted it to be, with a hostage one floor away and your father too occupied with his gold hunt, you couldn’t help but feel down.

“Hey” You looked down at the air vent. “Rafe” You whispered in realization. Immediately, you kneeled, trying to get closer to where the sound of his raspy voice came from.

“What’s up? I saw Singh going away this afternoon” The blond sounded impatient.

“Yeah… He seemed really pissed off. Probably some trouble with business” You frowned tiredly at that.

“Fuck…this is driving me insane!” You could hear his harsh voice being accompanied by a hit to the wall.

You closed your eyes in shame. “He said he’s not letting you go unless you tell him where the diary is” You flinched at the second hit, thinking of how he was probably hurt from the impact.

“I already told y’all I don’t have no damn shitty journal!” Exasperation could be clearly heard in his tone.

The silence was loud for a couple seconds. You didn’t want to open your mouth only to enrage him more, as for himself, you were sure he wasn’t feeling chatty right now.

“Of course” He chuckled humorlessly, bitterness spilling out of his tone.

“That fucking bitch and his surf rat friends” He said in annoyed realization. “It’s everything alright?” You asked dumbly, unsure of every word.

“Hell no, your father has the wrong fucking guy!” You were confused at his outburst. “…Mmm” Your brows furrowed together.

“My damn sister and his criminal friends… they certainly deal with that kind of information” He spat out, the poison in his voice being undeniable.

“Alright… then, I’ll get you a phone and we’ll contact her and-” You were cut in the middle of your sentence by a mean sneer. “That’s not how it works, sweetheart” He said harshly. “My sister doesn’t give a shit about me.”

“But, I don’t get it…She’s your sister” Your puzzlement was amusing to the boy. “She should be able to help you” You insisted with a cute frown on your face.

“Oh, she’s able to…she just won’t” A feeling of disappointment washed over you. Feeling desperate at the lack of resources to help the Cameron boy.

“I’m sorry” You said in a pitiful tone. And Rafe didn’t get why, Why would you feel bad for him? “Stop apologizing” His tone was dry, tired words slipping out of his pink lips.

The silence made itself present again, this time filled with tension. You both stayed like that for an excruciating minute, contemplating what else was to be said.

Suddenly, a new worry clouded your mind. “Have you eaten anything yet?” Your legs started to cramp for being seated too long on the hard floor, still, you refused to step away from the ‘blond’s side’.

He chuckled once again, this time lightheartedly. “That’s the last of my concerns, right now.” He took it as a joke, not really paying it much mind.

“Well, it concerns me…You could faint or-or” You stumbled across your words, struggling to back your point up. His laugh echoed through the air vent, rumbling in your ears.

“Rafe. I’m being serious!” You pouted. Rafe couldn’t believe it, you were actually worrying your little head off for him -and for some selfish reason, he seemed to enjoy it-.

(…)

“Rafe” You whispered into the room, once again you had succeeded in sneaking in. And as you looked around the room, you joyfully added “I brought a board game…and snacks!”

You stood timidly against the door, wondering where the blond was. “Rafe!” You increased the sound of your voice, lowkey panicking at his absence.

“Ra-” You choked on your own words as you observed a tall figure stepping out of the bathroom. A cloud of steam followed right behind.

You felt yourself growing embarrassed as you saw the Cameron boy walking confidently out of what seemed to be the shower.

He was only wearing a towel, allowing the droplets of water to roam freely on his brawny body. He didn’t look ashamed at all as he stood next to the queen sized bed. “You took your sweet time” He said in what you could only describe to be a playful tone.

A plain T-shirt was lazily extended on the mattress and as he picked it up, a set of huge biceps revealed themselves.

Never in your life had you seen a body as hefty as his. Rafe continued to ignore your gaze, lazily putting on the piece of fabric. A glimpse of his toned torso was the last thing you saw as he completely covered his upper body.

“See something you like?” He finally faced you, a proud smirk on his lips as he looked at your astounded face. “No!” You were quick to answer, shaking slightly at the bold ask.

Your anxiousness only seemed to fuel the blond more. A mean grin decorating his face while he reached for the flimsy towel.

The towel hit the floor, revealing his underwear. A pair of designer boxers wrapped tightly against his big bulge.

You simply looked away, gripping the bag of homemade cookies a bit too hard. The Cameron boy laughed at your shyness. “What is all that for? Are we having a picnic?” His grin grew bigger.

“Well, I figured out you might be hungry and stressed out so…” You finally dared to look his way, relived to see he was finally wearing pants.

He only hummed in response, eyeing you up and down in your sleeping shorts and thin top.

“I’m sure you could take some of my worries away” You couldn’t decipher the look on his face as he said that.

You stayed on your place, waiting for the right moment to get closer.

“C’mere” He signaled you to join, and you did, sitting right beside him.

Now, face to face as you sat on the floor, you could see the water dripping from his dirty blond strands. Quickly, you reached out for him with his towel in hand, rubbing it slightly against his hair.

Rafe allowed you to massage his scalp, surprised at your caring touch. “There!” You reacted joyfully at the almost dry result.

And just as you were about to pull your hand away, the Cameron boy grabbed you roughly by the wrist. A soft whine escaped your lips at the rough grip.

The blond completely ignored your small protest, only tightening his hold as he stared deeply into your soul.

“You missed a spot” He finally talked, moving sideways to reveal some strands of untouched hair.

You complied immediately, repeating the process in order to satisfy the blond.

He only hummed once you were done, letting you know he was content with the result.

A few minutes were invested into debating which activity had the right to be first: eating or playing and given the hungry look on Rafe’s face, you both decided on the first.

Seeing him eat made you feel lighter, now without the weight of one concern over your shoulders. “I’m glad you liked them.” You smiled sheepishly at him.

“How could I not like anything that comes from you?” He expressed in between bites, you didn’t think much of it -considering it just to be an exaggerated compliment-.

And as you picked up the residues from the floor, a new sense of curiosity raised deep within you. “So, what’s your hometown like?”

(…)

“Kildare sounds pretty entertaining” You turned your head to the side, noticing how Rafe’s eyes were already on you. “Wish I could visit someday” You looked down, focusing on the way his fingers draw circles around your thigh.

“I bet you know a couple of impressive islands” He had a boyish smirk on his face. The fingertips on your skin tickled you in a nice way. “… I don’t know about that” Your eyebrows were slightly squeezed together.

The Cameron boy stayed silent, waiting for an explanation. “I’ve never really…left The Bahamas” Your frown grew bigger.

“My dad would never let me…” You continued, a tight knot forming on your throat at each word. “He says it’s safer here” Your eyes found his, as a pitiful look made its way onto your face.

“Well-” The sound of multiple vehicles approaching the property cut him off. Engines roared wildly before parking completely.

You heard the voices of a couple men, most of them whom you recognized to be your dad’s men, expect for one.

A guy protested in a shaky voice, putting up a fight. “Rafe, wait!” You reached out for the blond’s pants, pulling from them as you desperately tried to make him sit.

The curses became begs. That’s when you heard your dad with his condescending voice. “This is what happens when you don’t zip your mouth, Mr. Portis” He was furious, you could tell.

“Rafe!” You pulled again, trying your best to keep it together as you heard desperate screams coming from the adult man.

“Rafe, if my dad sees you-” You jumped, choked whimper escaping your throat.

A gun. A gun was fired. The screaming had ceased, only to be replaced by a sepulchral silence.

You sat frozen, eyes stinging heavily while you saw the Cameron boy looking straight onto the murder scene.

“We have to get the fuck outta here” His tone was stern.

Rafe remained stoic as he closed the blinds.

A/N: Let me know your thoughts on this one! 💭

[fairysluna]

INVISIBLE STRING | Chapter 1: Lavender Haze.

A disastrous break up led you to them; three guys living in a huge apartment and in need of a new roommate who helped with the way too expensive rent.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Modern!Aegon x Fem!Reader.

Summary: After an exhausting search, you finally seemed to find the perfect apartment, though you didn't expect to find three handsome guys living in it.

TW/Tags: mentions of cheating, cursing, mentions of sex(?, and that's it... i think.

Author's Note: here it is, the new girl au. it's prob going to be a long series bc i want to make justice to the slow burn of the tv show, so... i think this will have at least 15-20 chapters, lmao. they'll be short, tho, so it won't be too much. thank you for reading and hope you enjoy it!!💕

Word Count: 2.5k

NEXT PART

The intensity of his lavender haze met yours in an eye contact that lasted just a few seconds, but it was enough to make you stutter your first words. The guy in front of you cleared his throat, licked his lips and ran his hands through his silver locks before a charming smile appeared on his handsome face. A deep breath escaped you, before you smiled back at him in a less flirtatious and rather polite manner. 

He leaned over the frame of the door, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looked up and down at you, the file between your hands soon became victim of your sudden nervousness as your fingertips started to play with the corners of it. You felt the urge to turn around and escape, thinking that you might find another apartment that will be almost as perfect as this… but something within you made you stay.

“Hi,” you spoke first, softly and kindly, “is Jace here?”

“Who’s asking?” He asked back, arching his blond eyebrows and looking at the file in your hands.

“I’m y/n… I saw the ad online that said you were looking for a roommate,” you took a pause, waiting to see some reaction of realization on him, but you received no answer. “Jace told me to come today.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember hearing something about that this morning,” he nodded slowly, clicking his tongue before he stepped aside. Inevitably, you pecked through the space to the ample space behind him, and you couldn’t help but to love it. “Come in,” he said, “Jace and Aemond went to buy some food but you can come and wait inside.”

You blinked a few times, “Aemond?” 

“Yeah, he’s my brother, he lives here too,” he explained as you slowly stepped into the apartment and sighed. The intense smell of incense reached your nose while you looked around.

“Wait,” you turned to see him, “so there’s three guys living here?” 

“There were four of us, but our baby bro went to study abroad, and we need someone to help with the bills and all that shit…”

“Oh,” you simply said.

“Is that a problem for you?” 

He stood in front of you as you pressed your lips in a thin line. Then, you took the time to consider the options you had; live with three young guys you have never seen before, or return to your best friend’s house, who lived with her very-sexually-active boyfriend. It was one thing or the other, and the right answer was in front of you.

You shook your head, sighing as you purse your lips. “Nope,” you told him, “not a problem at all.”

“Great,” he said, “now, would you like a tour around the apartment while we wait?” 

“Sure!” You answered excitedly, a wide smile appearing in your face.

“I’m Aegon, by the way.”

“I’m y/n.” You replied with the same tone as before.

Aegon chuckled, “yeah, I know, you already told me. Now, come on, I’ll show you around.”

He tilted his head to sign the direction in which you had to walk. It was a small hallway that had five doors; three of them were rooms, one of them was the bathroom, and the last one was a tiny room that had the washing machine and the dryer. Once you reached the empty room, you looked around with dreamy eyes as you thought it was just perfect for you; the closet was huge, it had a lot of light for your plants and the space was more than enough for a king size bed. You started to dream awake, and, without even knowing the rest of the guys who lived there, you began to think about ways to decorate the space that could become your new room.

You looked at the door, where Aegon was standing, and you could not hide the enormous smile that appeared in your visage. He, on the other hand, remained serious, quiet, almost as if he was unsure of having you there. 

“This is amazing,” you said, “it’s so big!”

Aegon pressed his lips trying to suppress a smirk, for his dirty mind thought about the double meaning of your words.

“It is big,” he nodded. You didn’t hear the mockery in his voice.

“Are there other candidates?” You stepped a bit closer to him, “or am I the only one?”

“Uh… yesterday a guy came, but neither of us liked him.” 

“Why?”

“He was not what we were looking for,” he shrugged.

The main door was opened, and Aegon quickly turned to walk outside the room and into the hallway. Soon, two male voices were heard along with the sound of bags and keys falling onto a table. You peeked outside the room, leaning enough to see across the hall, finding two guys in the living room; one had long, soft-looking, silver hair, while the other had short and dark brown hair. You immediately recognized the brunette as Jace, the guy with whom you talked about the apartment. 

Aegon cleared his throat and soon the two pairs of eyes were looking at you. Aemond frowned, rolling his eyes with annoyance as he sighed.

“I told you not to bring them home today, Aegon,” he said sternly, “Lucerys will arrive soon and we don’t want him to see your profanity.”

It was inevitable for you not to frown, confused –and a bit offended– by his words, even though you were not entirely sure of what they truly meant. What you were certain of is that, by the look on his face, he did not want to see you there, which actually made you feel a bit bad. Aegon remained silent.

Jacaerys squinted his eyes as if he was trying to search for something in you –some clue about your identity, perhaps–, and a few seconds later his mouth was shaped in a circle as he saw who you were. His eyes widened and he pushed Aemond slightly, making a not-so-subtle gesture that you were quite able to perceive. He immediately realized what was going on and his eye looked at you with an apologetic stare.

“She’s not mine,” Aegon said, “I found her outside our door.”

“Don’t talk about her like a cat,” Jacaerys said, walking towards you. “Hi, I’m Jace, it’s good to finally meet you.”

“Same thing,” you replied politely, stepping out of the room. He stretched his arm to reach your hand and shake it.

“Come, let’s go to the living room so we can talk more comfortably.” 

You followed his steps, walking back into the living area. The smell of the recently bought Chinese food reached your nose and made your stomach growl. You tried to play it down as you sat in a comfortable chair right in front of the couch where the three men sat. Your hands were resting on your knees as you sighed, looking back and forth at his faces who were concentratedly staring at you. Jacaerys tilted his head, as if he was expecting you to say something first but you just remained silent. 

Aegon laid back, his arm hanging in the back of the couch as he clicked his tongue, seeming kind of bored, and before you could say something, Jace spoke,

“So, why are you looking for a new apartment?” He asked you, “are you new in town?”

Oh Gods, you thought. Now it was the time to tell them the humiliating story that brought you to this place, that made you look for a new home in order to move on. You opened your mouth, trying to force the words out of your mouth but they insisted on being trapped in your throat. You chuckled, a breathy laugh that showed your shame before you were able to speak.

“Weell…” you said, lengthening the syllable as you stared a t your hands, avoiding any kind of eye contact, “uhm… it’s- it’s actually a fun story,” you nodded, “I went to a trip abroad with my best friend, and when I returned… Uh… I found out that my- my boyfriend was kinda cheating on me.” 

A silence. The three guys stared at each other, and then Aegon was the first to talk.

“What do you mean with ‘kinda’?” He asked, “did he only put his tip on or-?”

“Aegon,” Aemond scolded him, “that’s not a fucking nice thing to say, the girl had just being cheated on. Have some respect.”

“She said ‘kinda’,” he shrugged, “I want to know what that means!”

“He fully cheated on me,” you explained.

Aegon nodded, “so that means he put his whole dick on-”

“Jar!” Jace shouted, “five coins, now.”

He rolled his eyes as he started to search for the golden coins in his pockets. Once he found them, he grabbed a jar in one of the small tables beside the couch. You squinted trying to read what the white tape around it said, and after a lot of effort —because the calligraphy was far from being neat— you managed to identify the words 'Douchebag Jar' written on the tape. You pressed your lips, holding back a chuckle; the jar was already half way filled.

“I’m sorry for that,” the brunette said, “and I’m sorry for what happened with your boyfriend.” 

“It’s okay.” You said softly. 

“So, are you currently working?” Aemond stepped into the conversation. 

“I am,” you said proudly, “it’s my first year as a teacher, so, yes, I am working.”

"That's good," Jacaerys smiled, genuinely, "do you have any pets?" 

“Used to have a cat,” you said, “but just like my boyfriend he found another owner and left me with nothing but memories.” 

“That’s depressing,” Aemond said. Jace gave him a bad look.

“Uh, are you guys siblings?” you asked, curiously, “it’s just that I’ve never seen people with white hair and now there’s two of you…”

"Just us," said Aemond, pointing to Aegon. "Jace is our nephew, but we accepted him because he helps us with the rent."

“I can help you with that too!” you joked, but none of them laughed. 

“Listen, we have to discuss our final decision, alright?” Jace said, “give us a couple of minutes. Guys, let’s go.”

Jacaerys excused himself, smiling as politely as he had been. You took a deep breath as they stood up and left the living room, walking towards a room at the end of the hall, which, thanks to the tour Aegon gave you around the place, you knew was the bathroom. 

Jace locked the door behind him, and immediately turned to look at his uncles, shaking his head. 

"Nope," Aemond muttered, "absolutely not."

"Why?" Jace asked, rolling his eyes, "she has a good income, in two years she will be earning more money than all of us."

"She's a girl!" Aemond said.

"So?" The brunette arched his eyebrow. 

"Aegon has the hormones of a fourteen year old," he screamed in a whisper, "if you get a girl in here, we'll have to find a bigger Douchebag Jar."

"I think Aegon is old enough to control his primal urges," Jacaerys defended him. 

"Is he, Jace? Is he?" 

"She's a good candidate," He defended you, "we might not have another candidate as good as her."

"The next candidate can be a man!" Aemond said. "Did you see the way he was staring at her? He was eating her with his eyes!" 

"He won't do anything, he'll know how to control himself," Jace told him, "he can behave."

"Why are you talking about me as if I'm not here?" Aegon interrupted the conversation, crossed arms in his chest as he leaned against the wall, "Look, I'm not going to fuck her if that's what worries you. We need the money, so…"

"So keep it in your pants," Jace finished his sentence, speaking sternly. It almost sounded like a threat. 

"I'll keep it in my pants," Aegon shrugged, "it ain't that hard."

"Promise it.”

Aegon frowned, "what?" 

"Promise that you won't try to- to…" Jacaerys struggled to say the last word without blushing. 

"Fuck her," Aemond finished. 

"What if she is the one that comes to me, huh? What then?" 

Jace scoffed, "please, Aegon, she seems like a smart girl. She won't do such a foolish thing."

Aegon looked at his nephew with a bitter stare, seeming a bit offended. However, he remained quiet, for he knew there was some truth in his mocking words. 

"Alright," he sighed, spitting in his hand and stretching his arm, "I promise I will never fuck the new girl. Let my cock fall off if it happens."

"Good," Jacaerys said, repeating the actions of the eldest and grabbing his wet hand, shaking it slowly. 

"Gross," Aemond muttered, disgusted. 

"So," Jace said, "shall we give her the news?" 

The three men stared at each other, and then, they nodded. Aegon was the first one to walk towards the door, grabbing the handle and opening it so fast that you barely had time to run away. He widened his eyes as you blushed, embarrassed for the position in which they had found you. 

You slowly took a step back, scratching the nape of your neck as you stared at your shoes, once again avoiding the stare of those three handsome guys. However, after hearing their final answer, you were trying so hard to suppress the giant smile that was threatening to appear on your face. 

"Were you… spying on us?" Jace asked. 

A sigh left your lips at the same time you dared to look up at them, all with furrowed brows; Aegon was the only one with a slight smile on his face, which gave you the confidence to explain yourself.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it," you said, speaking quickly, "these situations make me feel so anxious, I just needed to know you didn't hate me."

“We didn’t,” Aegon replied, “congrats, you are the owner of the empty bedroom.” 

You jump out of excitement and it was impossible for you to resist the urge to hug them tight. Your arms wrapping around Aegon’s and Jace’s shoulders as Aemond just stepped back. Soft little giggles of pure and genuine happiness were heard from you, as you thanked them over and over again. 

“I can’t believe it!” you squealed, “I swear it on the Seven you won’t regret this decision!” 

Aegon’s chuckle was heard right beside your ear, as he carefully placed his hand in your waist as a habit. You stepped back, still with that sparkling smile on you. 

“I hope you’re not making a mistake,” Aemond whispered to Jace.

“Nah, she’ll be fine,” Jace assured him.

They were so focused on you that they were not able to see Aegon’s face, and the quite peculiar way his eyes sparkled as you started to chant about the good news you had received. He pressed his lips in a thin line, eyes fixed on you.

He was ignoring the unbeknownst feeling growing inside of him.

[telleroftime]

Wedding Vows ||| Bowser x Reader

Headcanons

———————————————

Headcanons for Bowser and what your proposal and wedding would look like.

Request - Anonymous

Pairing: Bowser x Gender Neutral ! Reader

Relationship: Romantic

Tone: Fluff

Bowser Masterlist

A/N: Bowser has me kicking my feet istg.

———————————————

Realistically, Bowser would be the one to propose first. Not only that, he'd do it sooner rather than later. Maybe even before the two of you would officially l court one another, or very soon after unless you voiced the fact you'd want to take everything slowly. If you haven't, he'd jump right into it. If you have, he'd wait right up to the point you'd say you were ready. Not a second longer.

Not because he is impatient - though he is impatient - but because he is just that eager to be with you and he just knows you are the perfect match for him.

He wants everyone to know that.

We know he falls in love strongly. And, once he loves you, he won't let go, so he doesn't understand why he'd have to wait to get married and officially have you as his royal consort. He wants you to be by his side as the second monarch of the kingdom, and he wants all the neighbouring allies and foes to know that you are his, now with an added ring on top.

And in terms of the actual proposal - it would be extravagant as there is no amount of gold he wouldn't spend on you.

Though he'd usually shower you with gifts, from delicate clothes and finely crafted jewellery to the most flavourful desserts, coming up to his proposal you'd notice a lot more of them. There'd be a lot more boxes wrapped in clean paper, with ribbons of all sort of colours wrapped around them. He'd leave them in your room and hide them in all the places you frequented.

All until he proposes.

He'd make sure that you were having a good day, preparing all sorts of events for you to take part in by yourself. A shopping spree if you enjoyed those. A buffet prepared in our name with all your favourite foods. Guards would escort you outside the Dark Lands so that you could spend the day in a more scenic environment.

All so you're distracted, giving him time as he prepares flowers and goes over what exactly he will say to you.

He'd make a grand entrance, all proud of himself. If you're uncomfortable with too many people, he would keep it as private as possible. He'd minimise the amount of guards with him, though not by much. After all, Bowser is a proud king. He'd want people to know of his proposal and he wants people to witness his love for you.

If he knows that you're comfortable with people and crowds then be prepared because the only thing that could rival his proposal would be the wedding itself. He'd have music playing as he enters, his back as straight as he could get it to seem all regal in front of you, even though his eyes would deceive his character. He's too madly in love to hold back on the heart-eyes.

Be prepared for the worst pick-up lines possible, because even though you're both already established as in love and in a relationship, he will use them.

Honestly, it'd probably be Kamek's suggestion.

It would be a love confession unlike any other.

His love is for you and you only, meaning that the only person he fears a negative reaction from is you. He feels no embarrassment from the way he acts and the way he makes it clear to anyone and everyone around that he loves you. Only your opinion matters to him.

He will sing for you in that gravely voice of his, present you flowers, and he will get you the shiniest ring he could get.

Depending on what your style is like, the type of metal the ring is made from would be different.

He could have presented you a black or silver-like metal ring that mimics the hues of the spiky bracelets he always wears. He could have presented you a typical golden ring with any form of embellishment to give it the depth you deserve. He could have presented you a rose gold ring. Literally any ring you can imagine if that's what suits your interests. And, no matter the base of the ring, they all would be encrusted with matching gems and precious stones.

Whatever ring choice he settled for, the wedding ring would be far richer. No penny will be spared.

And speaking of no penny spared - the wedding would be quick to follow and it would be the grandest event of the times.

All of your clothes would be custom made, matching in all the possible ways. The accents would be either your favourite colours or they would be the colour of your eyes if you so wished it. Any ribbons would be in that colour. Any embedded gems and sewn in sequins would all follow the colour scheme you select.

No matter your choice, Bowser will be all the more enamoured.

He'd prepare a special venue somewhere within his domain to ensure that everything would be perfect. It had to be perfect. Bowser would not have it any other way. Not for you. The time of day must be perfect. The weather must be perfect. The decorations much be perfect.

Everything would be meticulously picked out in a way he knew fit your liking.

And speaking of meticulously picked out, all of the music would be written by him and prepared perfectly for you. Though he wouldn't play it himself as he'd obviously be at the altar, he'd have the most skilled musicians of his kingdom recite it instead.

And, since all the titles to his melodies would be themed around you, he would expect pure perfection.

Or else he would end up short of a few musicians.

In terms of the guest list, Bowser would invite everyone - or at least everyone of significance. His allies would all get invited. King Boo, King Bob-omb. Bowser would even invite some of his enemies just for the sake of pridefully showing off his new consort-to-be. Anyone you'd like would be invited, be that family or friends - their status doesn't matter to him - all with front seats at the reception.

The enemies do include Princess Peach, Mario, and Luigi.

Bowser would have been extremely worried and stressed before you walked down the aisle. His cheeks would show a bright flush from past the scales and his brows would be knitted and crossed across his face, twitching with anxiety.

What if you changed you mind? What if you didn't want to marry him?

His eyes would be all over the place, skimming the crowd in anticipation, right up to the point when you showed up across the room and the music started playing.

Then he'd be utterly awestruck.

His eyes would go wide, taking you all in and watching as you walked towards him. His maw would be left lightly agape, and his breath would be stuck inside his throat as he visibly followed you with the turn of his head. Even when you finally stood in front of him he'd feel like he's in a dream, leaning in to get a closer look and slouching more than usual to be all the more nearer.

This would be one of the first and only times Bowser would stutter. He doesn't know what to say, and all he'd have is this goofy smile paired with half-lidded heart-eyes. in that moment, for him, there'd be just you and him. How he appeared to the onlookers did not matter to him. He only cared how he'd look in front of you.

Oh, and Kamek would be the marriage officiant.

You'd say your vows whilst Bowser's tail would wag like the tail of an excited puppy.

He'd lean down for you to kiss him and grin even more when you did with a shine in his eyes, heart hammering loud enough for you to hear. There'd be plenty of times when he'd look back at the guests in attendance with a proud look in his gaze like: "Everyone look, this is my consort. They're my spouse now!" He'd be so happy with himself. He'd be so happy to have you.

Now, the wedding ceremony would have been held outside the castle, but the after party would be held within it.

Bowser would have had one of his largest ballrooms prepared, matching the decor of the wedding itself and making sure it all ties together with the grey and black bricks of his castle. Everything would be perfectly polished, clean, and tidy. Nothing would dare be out of place as the two of you celebrate. There would be not a single spec of dust or ash in sight.

During the actual party, the only time he'd be separated from you would be when he's discussing something with the other kings, whether that be them congratulating him or having polite conversation. Whatever it would be, his eyes would never leave your figure, following your movements with ease.

And when he's done entertaining them, he'd come straight to you.

At first, the other guests wouldn't know what to do. They'd want to talk to you, congratulate you on your wedding or catch up with you if they're your friends, however they'd be too frightened of Bowser's huge figure looming behind you like a protective boulder.

Only when Peach takes the initiative and walks up to the two of you does the rest of the crowd relax. She'd congratulate the two of you, politely bowing with a soft look in her eyes as she addresses you. The two of you would talk all whilst Bowser leans in defensively like he's daring the princess to do anything.

He'd want to be anywhere else than near Peach.

Yes, he wants to show you off to the princess, however he doesn't want you to think he still harbours any affections towards her. He doesn't. He only loves you, and he doesn't want you thinking any less of him for being this close to his past obsession.

It takes a while for him to ease into the conversation, keeping to single animalistic grunts and rumbles whenever Peach would try and converse with him.

When the Mario Brothers come up to the three of you - or two if you opted to leave Peach to ease Bowser's nerves - he'd tense.

His fists would clench in a silent way of controlling himself, though with how close you'd stand to him you'd be able to hear the rumble of flames bursting inside of his chest. It'd take a little while of you absentmindedly stroking his arm to relax him back down, but eventually he'd be able to stand still and simply enjoy being close to you, even with his enemies so close to him.

Overall, the evening would be beyond pleasant.

The two of you would dance together, Bowser absolutely taken by you. The two of you would eat the towering cake, feeding him some whilst completely disregarding the eyes of the guests. In general, you'd have a great time.

———————————————

Bowser Masterlist

[twogyuu]

the unoriginal villain origin story [teaser]

Pairing: Jeonghan x fem!reader (ft. friend!Wonwoo)

Synopsis: In which Jeonghan and his friends recount the first time and the many "accidents" after that led to you 💙

Alternatively, throwback to the time you thought all the bleach he used to go blonde made him insane, but he was still equally wild years later -- and you were okay with it.

Genre: Fluff, crack, prequel to Wonwoo's Tasty Milk (and Cereal) and not just magic, dilf!jeonghan, uncle!wonwoo (he's engaged LOL), part university!au, part office romance (but not really?), mild E2L (they're not really enemies, but OC definitely trying to stay AWAY from Jeonghan at first), one-sided pining, he fell first but she fell harder and then he fell hardest(?) kind of story?,

Warnings: Profanity, mentions of food, one comment about Jeonghan getting reader pregnant (jokingly)

Teaser WC: 563 || est WC: ~8k

A/N: I should really make a masterlist for this anthology LOL.

. . . .

“So,” Leah starts with her mouth half-full, capturing the table’s attention. She’s quick to cover her lips and swallow her food before continuing. “I’m curious,” she points between Jeonghan and you, “How’d you two end up together? As long as I’ve known Wonwoo, you’ve been married.”

Immediately, Wonwoo snorts, nearly spitting out his dinner on his friend sitting across the table. Jeonghan scorns in disgust, frowning, offended as to why Wonwoo finds his fiance’s question amusing. In contrast, you seem to lose your appetite, silver fork clattering against your half-filled ceramic plate. You grow quiet, straightening your spine and avoiding eye contact like you were back in middle school, caught red-handed with a confession letter to your crush. 

“I honestly thought she was going to end up with Baekho – she loathed Jeonghan with a passion,” Wonwoo chuckles to himself as he redirects his chopsticks at your husband. “But Jeonghan knocked her up – that’s what happened.” 

“Okay,” Jeonghan is quick to interject. He raises his hands to cover his daughter's ears from Wonwoo's obscenities. Nina peers up at her dad innocentlu. sighing and shooting Wonwoo a bored, but annoyed look.“That’s not what happened – do you have to put it that way?” 

The other man only shrugs his shoulders, raising his palms to the sky playing coy and oblivious. 

Leah’s eyes flicker back and forth between you and your husband, then sweet Nina. Leah’s innocent smile slowly fading as you neither confirmed or answered. She isn’t aware that this was a sensitive topic for you and Jeonghan, and the last thing she wants to do is offend her fiance’s friends! The two of you just seem to get along so well and so in love, for lack of a better description, it’s hard for Leah to imagine much malice as to how you met and got together. Yet, this raises the additional worrisome, unfounded suspicion: Did you and Jeonghan just get married out of convenience?

No – that couldn’t be! Wonwoo is a sensible man; he wouldn’t be laughing if it was a pitiful marriage of convenience. 

“She didn’t hate me,” Jeonghan starts to explain. 

“She blocked your number after the blind date,” Wonwoo interjects. 

You met during a blind date?

“It wasn’t even our blind date,” Jeonghan quickly shoots back. He clenches his jaw, clearly getting fed up with Wonwoo’s teasing. 

This is certainly interesting for Leah . . . Jeonghan frequently annoyed Wonwoo, not that the latter gave the older gentleman the reaction he wanted, but it is rare to see Wonwoo get under Jeonghan’s skin. 

“It wasn’t, which makes it all the funnier,” Wonwoo comments, “In fact, she was technically,” Wonwoo holds his fingers up in air quotes, “‘my blind date.’”

“I was merely doing you a favor by tagging along – and it was free food!” you finally exclaim, frowning at Wonwoo. 

Wonwoo waves you off, smirking, “Jeonghan was down bad.”

Confused, Leah holds up a hand to silence the bickering. She shakes her head, “Wait, wait, wait – please start from the beginning. I didn’t grow up with you guys, so I’m so lost.”

Like those corny rom-coms, you and Jeonghan turn to look at each other at the same time, exchanging a knowing, tired look. There’s a bashful tinge to your expression; interestingly, the corner of Jeonghan’s lips quirks up in a crooked, smug smile. 

Sure, you may have resisted (NOT hate) him at first, and Wonwoo can make fun of him all he wants, but it’s Yoon Jeonghan who won in the end.

After all, you're sitting next to him at the dinner of your shared home as his wife and Nina's mom after all.

[moon-catto]

Why do you want to marry me?

Part I | Part II

I craved pain and you know what happened 😃, I'm thinking to make this into 2 parts. Maybe. If time permits. Also I'm trying to work on equivalent part 2, but the draft is still meh to me :/

Summary: The future of your engagement is decided today.

Warning: angst without comfort.

Masterlist

It’s been two weeks since you lost sight of your fiance. He usually would burst into your workplace in the loudest and extra way possible just to ask you for lunch, yet you were met with nobody today, yesterday, and the week before.

Your texts and calls go unanswered. You’re basically spamming his notifications at this point but you don’t care. He’s unusually quiet and it worries you. So that’s why you went out of work early to check him at his place.

The silver ring on your annular finger goes loose for a moment, you fixed it before ringing his doorbell. Hearing his footsteps coming nearer, you unconsciously fixed your hair quickly. Heart beating expectantly.

The white door swung open and revealed the man you have searched for in his sleeping attire. Loose black shirt with black sweatpants, his hair is messy and sleep is still clearly seen on his face. It’s already midday, why is he waking up so late?

“Sato–”

“Why are you here?” He asked, he spoke a bit faster so you need some extra seconds to comprehend his words but the only thing that stuck in your head is the fact that he just questioned why you’re on his front door. His way of talking also feels strange, a bit rude— you dare say, like he doesn’t want you here. You may just overthink this because you haven’t seen him in days, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel any pain at his choice of words.

“I– I was… looking for you.” You said, surprisingly hesitant. The man in front of you is not the usual Gojo who would pick you up after work. No. So who is exactly this cold man who’s wearing the face of your fiance?

“Why?” You don’t miss the way his forehead frowned, like he’s actually offended by your answer.

“I have been trying to contact you for days.” You can’t hold back the emotions flooding inside you. Your anger slowly leaking in your tone at his indifferent expression. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine. See?”

What’s up with him? Went missing for days without any news then  showing up without any remorse or guilt of having you worried for him. Not that you asked for anything, but a simple notice would be nice.

You sighed. Being his fiancee for five months  is enough for you to understand how stubborn he is. “Just let me in for a minute.” Your voice came out as a whisper. You avert your gaze to the floor tile below as you continue. “Is that also too much to ask?”

You missed the way his pupils dilated. His indifference cracked for a moment, replaced with an unexpected surprise on his tired face. He expected this, your reaction and everything however his heart doesn’t get used to it and instead clenched painfully inside his ribcage.

You rubbed your right arm hesitantly under his stark gaze. “It’s cold...”

He sighed. “Fine.”

You decide to ignore how forced he is acting when he makes space for you to go inside. The chilling wind of winter subdued the moment you set your foot inside, but the raging storm inside your heart remains there, the thought that you possibly upset him plagued your mind.

“Hurry up.” He ushered you. You walked with a heavy heart.

You took a seat on one of his expensive couches. You used to watch movies here with him… it used to feel so comfortable, but now the material feels stiff.

He’s gone to the second floor and for a moment you thought he would leave you here alone, but he’s back with a blanket shortly after.

“Here.”

You accepted the blanket. “Thanks.”

He just nodded and then went to the kitchen this time. Maybe it’s just you, but you thought he’s purposefully busying himself so he doesn’t have to talk to you. Your suspicion might be true since he’s quickly given you a glass of water, sitting on another couch and playing with his phone instead.

He ignored you.

“Satoru.”

“Hmm.”

“Can we talk?”

“We are talking, Y/N.”

“I mean, like properly.” you huffed, stressed by how lightly he took this situation. “I haven’t had any chance to talk to you.”

“You can just text me.”

“I have. You didn’t read them.”

“Was planning to.”

“But?”

“I’m busy.” His aloof way of talking both irritates and hurts you. He never acted like this before, you also don't reckon doing anything to upset him. You were doing fine with him, until recently. Or is it just you who thought everything is fine but it’s actually not? You are full of questions and dying to ask him, but you won’t have your answer. Not with him ignoring you like this.

“Hey,” You softly called him, he still doesn’t spare you a glance. “Satoru.” You put a hand on his thigh, and he flinched.

Immediately, you retracted your hand. Feeling embarrassed that he doesn’t even want you to touch him. “Did I do something wrong?”

“...No.” He scrolled in God knows what and continue to turn a blind eye to you, who’s actually on the verge of tears.

“So why did you ignore me?”

The desperation on your voice is thick, and is straight shameful. But you don’t know any better, you don’t know what to do with him acting so strange like this. Your mind whispers the things you don’t wanna know, your greatest fear and nightmare. His attitude doesn’t help in any way.

“I don’t… I’m just busy.” He sighed, he sounds tired and maybe it’s true that he’s so busy yet your heart still insists.

“Too busy to make a call?”

“Y/N.” he finally looked at you, clearly irritated. His eyes hid so many emotions that are foreign to you. You are scared as much as how pathetic you feel right now.

“Did you…” only then he finally noticed the lightness in your voice, the tremble of your hands, and the pale color of your face. “Did you cheat on me?”

At that moment, he knew he took things too far. Your tears threatened to fall as they filled your waterline.

“I don’t–”

“Answer me.” The strictness in your voice startled him.

“I’m not.” He stutters. “I would never.”

“So are you bored of me?”

“Why are you—” You stood. Finally fed up with his antics. You picked up your purse and looked at him dead in the eyes.

“Looks like I just wasted your time.” You roughly rubbed your eyes with your arms. Noticing your movement, he also got up. His eyes frantically searched for yours.

“Wa-wait,” He grabbed your wrist which you yanked to get him off of you. “Where are you going?”

“Why bother asking.” You nudged him when he tried to catch your hand again. “I’ll just leave you here.”

Before you are able to pull the door open, he catches your shoulder and turns your body to face him. “Y/N!” He slams your back to the door a bit too hard. The door knob hits your waist.

“Ouch.” You whimpered and he’s at lost for words.

“Shit, are you alright? I didn’t mean to—” He raised his hand to help you out but you mistook his intention as a threat, you raised both arms in front of your face while squeezing your eyes shut.

He froze. Did you just think that he would hit you?

“I…” his tears fell just like that. “Did you just–”

His quiet sobs attract your attention, you took a small peek at him and found him looking at you with tears staining his cheeks.

“Do you think I will hit you?” He asked, for reassurance. “Are you scared of me?”

“... Yes.” Your small confirmation just made his heart break inside, shattered everything like a thin piece of glass. His heart bleeds at the thought that he scared you, his fiancee.

“Why?”

“I don’t know you.” You tried to suppress your sobs but failed. Your futile attempt just made his heartache worsen. “You’re not my fiance, not my Satoru. I don’t know who you are and why you keep hurting me like this.”

“I-i’m,” he tried to talk, to say anything but his tongue goes numb after your breakdown. He caused this, the one who made you cry is the same man who promised to protect you.

“What do you want?” You asked. “You can just be honest, so i won’t have to be like this everyday.” You bit your lips hard. ‘I’m like a fool, looking for you when you clearly don’t want that.”

He watched in pure horror as you pulled your engagement ring off your finger. The feeling is so terrible, like your heart is being pulled into half. His chest feels suffocated.

“I’m tired.” You told him. “Really tired of your games.” You put the ring on the small table nearby and turned to open the door but turned to him once again. He’s still frozen, completely distraught when you give him a small box.

“You can dump this too.” When he comes to his senses, he’s alone in his house with a small gift box with a small note in his hand.

Happy birthday, Satoru.

Masterlist

[muzansfangs]

Ice ice baby.

Starring: Douma x f!reader;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, modern au, human au, blindfolds, ice play, sensory-deprivation, nipple play, enstablished relationship, dom!Douma, sub!reader, oral sex (reader!receiving), slight overstimulation, praise kink;

Plot: When your boyfriend asked you if you trusted him in planning something special for your anniversary, you had no idea of what he had come up with. The moment he had led you to your bedroom, you wondered why he had blindfolded you. Yet, as you laid down onto your bed and something cold, melting even, trailed down your sensitive curves, you knew that you were in for a ride.

Author note: It’s barely midnight, but it’s 7th October… Which means it’s time to post my work for the kinktober collab hosted by the talented @doumadono. To deliver you guys a special treat for celebrating the kinky month, I have chosen to gift you a deadly combo: Douma + sensory-deprivation. Have fun! Here’s the link to the Masterlist!

MASTERLIST FOR THE EVENT: KINKTOBER’23.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

A shaky breath left your mouth, lips parting in anticipation as your heart was thrumming so hard you thought it was surely trying to break your ribs and jump right out of your chest. Darkness enveloped you. The silky fabric of your boyfriend's tie was kissing your closed eyelids, as you idly accepted your fate. Your other senses were now sharpening, as you tried to come to terms with the fact that you were temporary deprived of your sight.

"Do you trust me, darling?".

His words echoed into your mind, goosebumps raising over the exposed flesh of your body, as he was helping you to lay down onto your shared bed. His voice pierced your ears sensually, as you could feel his hot breath fan the shell of your ear. He was close, so close to you, but as your tried to capture his lips with yours in a sloppy kiss, you missed the target. Lost in the darkness, you had to rely rolely on your hearing to detect his position and, apparently, you had failed.

You sighed in defeat, lolling your head back on what you assumed to be your pillow, your foreteeth sinking onto your bottom lip as you heard him chuckle.

“Blindly” you sassily replied to his question, a small smile tugging your lips upwards as you heard some familiar footsteps slowly fading away.

Laying on the mattress, his presence gone now, you felt the cool air of the room gently bite your skin. You were naked, except for the thin fabric of the red laced thong your boyfriend had asked you to wear for him. The sight of his multicolored orbs was enough to make you yield at his requests but, when you had tried to resist this time, he had pulled his favorite little stunt: the puppy eyes. How could you deny him such a treat, when he stared at you like that?

As you finally heard him walk back into your bedroom, your lips parted in euphoria. He had not told you exactly what he had in mind, but he was Douma, the experimental partner that had talked you into doing things among the bedsheets you would have probably never done with anyone else.

He was the man you had told 'yes' to so many times.

Douma gazed at you, his tongue darting out of his mouth to moisten his plumped lips, as he carefully settled a metal bowl on top of the nightstand. He made sure not to make a sound in order to truly surprise you. He did not have much time to fool around. The material he had decided to involve into your sexual intercourse was melting.

“Douma…” you whispered his name, as if you wanted to make sure he was there, close to you, as he had promised to be so many times.

The silver-haired man grinned, crawling onto the bed and hovering over your frame. You looked so vulnerable, so fragile, as he caged you between his muscular arms. You shuddered, the warmth of his body heating up your own body as his lips brushed against yours. If kisses elicited such strong reactions from you, he could only imagine what would have happned at the feeling of his tongue delving into you until you broke out into a sinful series of whimpers and moans.

“I’m right here, darling’. Just relax…” he purred, his mouth leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your throat and in your middle-section. Your breasts, the soft skin of your sensitive and beautiful bosom made his mouth water.

“Where did you go?” you asked him, mouth hanging open as Douma cupped your left breast with his hand and gently sucked onto your other one. His mouth was so warm, so comforting, and you whined out in pleasure as he seemed to be taking so much care of them this time.

Some silver strands of his hair had fallen over his face, tickling your collarbone as he switched nipples and made sure to sensually give your neglected one the same treatment. You were divine, delicious.

His teeth softly nibbled onto it to make your squirm a little, a mischivious grin gracing his lips as he lifted himself up on his elbows and glanced over the bowl at his left. The time had finally come.

“I need you to focus now, princess. No questions, but moans, that’s all I wanna hear coming from that pretty mouth of yours” he instructed you, as his hand reached into the basin and grasped a medium ice cube.

You furrowed your brows, hips bucking in anticipation as he put the ice between his lips and leant over you. You would have never imagined it, never in your life, nor the act, neither the sensation it was now provoking to you.

You were about to reply something, when chills pervaded your body from head to toe. Cold, you felt cold.

A yelp, your body flinched as your hands gripped the bedsheets beside you. What exactly was that? Your breath hitched into your throat, while Douma slowly dragged the melting ice cube down the valley of your breasts, his gaze flicking up to enjoy the way your face contorted into different grimaces and perplexed expressions.

He could not talk, while his mouth was busy, but he let out a guttural sound you did not fail to hear.

“I-Ice… That’s ice. Gosh, Douma!” you breathed out, a cute noise leaving your mouth as he let the cold trail of melted ice pierce the skin of your already stimulated nipples. You moaned, you moaned loudly as Douma slipped his hands down your body and slipped your thong off of you.

You would have helped him, if you were not that lost into the unfamiliar feeling you were feeling right in that moment. The eternal bliss that man brought to you was something out of human comprehension.

“D-Douma, Douma, please…” you cried out, not knowing exactly what you were asking him to do. Maybe you wanted more, maybe you craved him more than anything and as nothing was left of that ice cube he smirked.

“You should see yourself, baby. You’re so fucked up right now… Let me cool your heat down a bit” he stated, spreading your legs more for him as his hand dived into the bowl again to pick another piece of ice from it. You were in for such a treat that night.

You shivered, a gasp of realization leaving your lips, when Douma buried his face between your thighs and began to lap your core. You clasped your hand over your mouth, toes curling as he pleasured you through his skilled tongue, but then something freezing was settled softly of your throbbing bundle of nerves and you squealed out at the contact the cold ice made with your hot-boiling flesh.

“Douma! Fuck! That’s insane” you whimpered, cheeks heating up as your boyfriend delved his tongue deep into your aching opening. Addictive, he was addictive.

Now, as you came onto his tongue, droplets of cool water scattered all over your naked body, as remnants of the awful amount of ice Douma had involved into your night of passion, you were so glad to have let him handle your anniversary.

He was truly a gift from Heaven.

TAGS: @doumadono @mrskokushibo

[thecameronchronicles]

Pina Coladas

TW: smut. Language. Public teasing. 

SUMMARY: A day of relaxation after filming results in a rather sticky exchange between you and Drew. 

WORD COUNT: 2000

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

Pina Coladas

There was a simple silver lining in being away from Drew as he filmed further inland and that resulted in the delicious tan coming over your crisping skin. The perfect bronze tint to an otherwise perfect porcelain as you spent every second you could on the beach of this chosen resort. The only changes being that of a lounge chair, the positioning of your hat, and the drinks you substituted for any real sustenance. And if you had to be away from him you found a slight comfort in this having been the way spent. 

Having lost track of time beneath another perfect heat and gentle spray of water coming just off the sea, you only noticed the new presence when it washed over you completely. And yet despite the attention you may have received in his absence, it was only his focus you cared to have. 

His fingers danced softly from your knee in ascension to your hip as a smile broke from your lips, interrupting your attempt to slumber. A welcome interception if it meant he had returned to you. 

"Damn..." He played with the knot at your side as you smirked, pushing his grip away before rising just high enough to tease his lips. 

"How was your day?" You asked while leaning on his shoulder, his bare chest allowing your chin to rest on his freckled shoulder. 

"Kept screwing up my lines...because all I could think about was you being here...Not fair to everyone who has to see you, you know...Knowing they can't touch you...but only I can..." 

You pulled back as if he had insulted you. 

"Who says only you can? I mean..." You pulled down your shades. "Maybe he would like to keep me company while you're gone for eight hours at a time...maybe invite him to the hotel room during your night shoots," His jaw pulled to the side with an amused cock. 

"So many long nights…" You groaned, fingers teasing the parting of your legs as you reclined back in the lounge chair. 

But he wouldn't pounce on you as the dominant roles he often portrayed. Instead, he trailed the glass of condensation on your skin as you arched just slightly in reaction. 

"Drew!"

"I could always just lock you away in our hotel room…maybe tie you to the bed…" His eyes fell down your body as you both became momentarily distracted at the thought. 

"Leaving me alone in bed won't fix anything…"

"That's because you're impatient baby…" He continued the line from his drink now to your stomach, teasing the line of your bikini as you shifted to the frigid contact. 

"I've been patient all week…" You groaned with a pout. 

"But you haven't behaved yourself…" he teased, using the straw as a holder of sorts before pressing the blended alcohol and fruit components at your navel. Your light gasp made him smirk against you as he lowered to lap up his mess. 

"I've been thinking about this all day, baby…" he continued to kiss up your body, shameless to how he now held you. One hand supporting himself on the creaking chair beneath his palm as the other teased the flimsy ties made of your suit. 

"Then are you gonna act on it or just tease me, Starkey?" You taunted as you looked down to see him pour the edge of his drink between your breasts. The kisses made to dry you only dampened the center of your suit as his fingers pressed at your clothed clit. 

"Take em off…" Your eyes flashed to either side as you were reserved enough to not be a focal point among the other tourists, but still in broad daylight enough to be noted. 

"I'll tear them off if I have to, and then that will bring more attention baby…" 

"Take me to our room…" 

"I want you right here…" he angled himself in such a way that blocked your nakedness as an oversized umbrella assisted with the other side. He pulled your leg over his shoulder and lowered in a twist to conceal you, before his fingers untied those cruel bows. 

"Next time, I'll have you come in the suit since my girl's suddenly so shy…" But as he teased you with this, you felt his scoff at your sex, well aware you were often the one to take advantage of darkness. The darkened theatres and being stopped at red lights on the way to a premiere. And now you blushed as he kept you guarded to all but him. 

"Don't come…" his threat was the only sound prior to the sudden rush of freezing bliss that came to your sex. Another stream of the Pina Colada now taken by his tongue as he savored the pineapple and coconut mixture for the duration of its existence before focusing on you. 

"Drew…ah…" you winced as he smirked again. Only now, with his fingers tightening to your naked hips, pulling you wider. 

"So sweet…" he moaned into you, pouring even more as your cheeks flushed with the need to silence your pleas. In normal instances, you could call between him and God and find an eventual release, but he edged you in repetition. 

"Please…" Your final plea seemed to resonate with him but not for the reasons you thought. 

"Fuck, baby… I can't wait…" He lifted you to stand, wrapping the towel formerly over his shoulder now around your waist. 

"Think you can keep from dripping until we get to the room?" 

"I don't think I can wait…" You moaned, his absence leaving you throbbing as if you'd been tormented for hours with a vibrator on high. The rush of exhibitionism added that acceleration of your desire as you struggled for patience. 

"You're gonna have to baby…don't want to embarrass me by someone getting a picture of how desperate I am to make you come now do we?" He pulled you towards the bar as you groaned, pressing your thighs together for some form of pressure. 

"A Pina Colada-"

"Two-" You added as the bartender offered the empty glasses. 

"Take your time…We're not in any rush." You narrowed your eyes. 

"Maybe that guy from before is-" he pulled you between his thighs as he rested on the barstool,concealed once again. 

"We both know you can't keep a straight face and you definitely can't stay quiet, baby…one of the many reasons I love fucking you…But you need to learn some patience…" The first drink was finished as he took a sip, making notes of corrections, until he'd had enough of how you fell clenching around him. 

"Okay baby…" You led him to the elevator, forced to behave as you weren't alone. His lips behind your ear as you were compressed between other guests. 

"How am I going to explain a soaked and sticky bed to the maids?" He asked while pressing the drink against your lower back. 

"Not my concern…"

"Should be, baby. You're the reason we're gonna get a noise complaint…" The doors came open and you were quick to rush to your room. The key fumbling in your fingers as he kissed the back of your neck. The second the door came open, his fingers pulled the final knot of your suit as you were left completely naked for him. 

"Not fair…" his brow flexed as he pulled his trunks down to reveal his excited anatomy, already tearful at the promise of your touch. 

"This hard after tasting me?"

"Always…but that's just from thinking about you…" he breathed as you lowered to your knees from the edge of the bed where your intertwined walk had set you. His head falling back in disbelief before you wrapped your hand around his base. 

"Shit!" He gasped at the drink drawn in a line at his shaft. Your lips warming the cold skin that threatened to pull him flaccid from the chill. 

"This is only fair…" you teased beneath thick lashes and an ambitious throat as you took him in stride. Just as he found a rhythm of comfort, you pulled him free long enough for another line and consumption of the drink, until he brought you upwards. 

"On the bed-" 

"Sure you don't want me on my knees?"

"Two more sucks and you'd be swallowing me…"

"Wouldn't be the first time…" you taunted as he now forced you to the bed, knees and palms keeping you stationary. The drink dripped down your spine and over your ass as he licked the remnants with a steady "ah" of finality. 

"Just when I think you can't get any sweeter…fuck…" Before you could respond, one finger was inserted from behind. Then two. Your sex thrust in a weak pulse as he set it with the intention to torment you this way. 

"Drew!"

"Don't come yet, baby…" 

"But it feels so good…I can't…I can't wait…"

"I know, you're shaking like I've never touched you before, like nobody ever has…And we both know that's a goddamn lie with how often I'm inside of you…" You nodded. 

"But you're gonna be patient baby or I'll just start over…"

You repressed that pulling pleasure building in your lower abdomen as he continued to edge you. His fingers exchanged for his tongue until your moans became a siren's call to his own desire. 

He positioned you onto your side, his cock resting between your thighs. 

"This way…just for a minute…" He ordered as you played with the tip that came to view as he fucked your thighs. The precum at his tip was used as further lubrication. 

"You're so fucking wet already…"

"Please Drew…"

"You want me to put it in, baby?"

You nodded quickly as he kissed your neck. The other hand at your breast as he pulled you into him. 

"Then put it in baby…my hands are a bit busy…" to this, he played with your nipples and clit, a hand devoted to either, as you angled yourself for penetration. The slick excess making this easy as he pulled you even harder and faster against him. 

"I fucking love you…" he groaned, his tone hitched from ecstasy as you wrapped perfectly around him. The flex of his cock fell in repetition as he slammed into you. The only sound interrupting your shared chorused of each other's names would be that of skin to skin and ruffled sheets. 

Minutes losing meaning as perspiration only aided the slide he made of your bodies. 

"On your knees…against me…" you obeyed, his cock returned to you as he pulled your hair hard enough so he could have the top of your head against his chest. Pouring the last bit of his drink in your mouth, he kissed you to share with him as it dripped between you. Moans and smirks breaking the moment as his thrusts became sloppy, announcing his edge. 

"Baby!"

"Please Drew…I need to come…" 

His fingers came over your clit. 

"Only if it's with you…" You were adorned by his hands as they shifted from your breast and hip then to your clit and jaw. Never stationary for too long until he came to those crude final thrusts. 

"Fuck!" He belted as you gasped to the rush of pleasure taking over your entire senses. His body shifting and trembling behind you as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. A signature of sorts as he'd always end every interaction this way. No matter the duration or location. 

"I think that might be my new favorite drink…" He teased as you laid on his chest to bask in the moment. 

"We still have mine left…" You reminded. 

"I'm gonna need a minute…you drained me pretty dry…" You would grind over his thighs. 

"Guess I am dripping pretty bad, aren't I?" You felt his cock flex to your words. 

"You want more?" You nodded. "Then get on your back, baby." When your eyes narrowed, he pulled the drink in his hand before lowering to your thighs. 

"Maybe this time I can actually finish…Gonna be drunk off your pussy by the time we're done…As if I needed another excuse…" 

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916

MASTERLIST

DREW STARKEY MASTERLIST

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[instarsandcrime]

Feathers On a Hearth

Did I just write a 2,000+ word Huskerdust snz fic because I have no impulse control? The answer may not surprise you. Hope you enjoy!

Edit: Someone asked for a follow-up and well. Part 2 I guess!

--

“A day off?” Angel Dust slapped his upper hands on the counter, lower firm on his hips. “Whaddya mean a day off?!”

“My, my! Such a reaction!” The Radio Demon hummed from behind the bar, “I thought you’d be pleased that Husk asked for some relaxation time.”

“Of course I’m happy! That’s the problem!” The other fumed, picking nervously at the hem of a glove. “The bastard never takes his fifteen, let alone twenty four hours to himself. Even after the whole extermination shit went down and the hotel’s name was back up in lights, he opened up shop the next day like nothin’ happened!”

“Hm.” The Overlord’s fingers stilled above a wine glass, drifting into a trance. From a distant white fuzz of radio that traveled with the hotelier, Angel Dust heard bits and pieces of unknown voices, clipped nonsense like jagged edges of glass against a chalkboard.

Unknown help NEEDED uSefuL For meat.

“Alastor?” Angel Dust finally piped up, and his host seemed finished ruminating on the world’s most ominously displayed conclusion.

“I would love to uphold Husker's wishes for privacy. However, if it satiates your curiosity in any way, feel free to convince him otherwise.” Alastor snapped his fingers, and a door somewhere above unlocked with a sharp click, "The poor thing hasn’t come out of his room all day, and I admit it’s a bit disquieting to not have our bartender at the ready. Always waiting with a refreshing drink and a silver tongue...”

Pencil thin brows furrowed. Okay. Okay, fine. Either fuck over Husk’s boundaries– not a fan of goin’ down that road again– or risk it and make sure he’s okay. Regardless.

“Is this some kinda sick way of showin’ that you care about him?” Angel Dust squinted suspiciously.

A howling laughter cut the air like a knife. “O-oh! Ohohoh my! Th-that– ahaha– H-heavens, no!” Alastor wheezed out. “I want to see how badly this trainwreck goes! It's been quite a show to watch such a beloved actor even think about rubbing elbows with a washed up, wrung out has-been like Husker!”

Angel's face twisted, blushing scarlet with anger at a cackling studio audience that filled the bar. He couldn't help it-- whatever cadence, whatever tone, he'd heard the same exact laugh plenty of times with every tug of a chain. “I don’t get what Charlie sees in a creepy, sadistic fucker like you. But y’know what? I hope you get to the top. I hope you get everythin’ you want. Because when you look down from your sad, dinky little radio tower, no one is gonna be there to watch.”

Flashing his last two arms just to flip Alastor off with his entire being, Angel Dust spun on his heel to storm up the steps. And all too faintly, he heard one last little hiccup of a broadcast. He stopped at the haunting swell of violins, nearly tugged backwards by the sobbing of a woman reaching out to embrace her savior.

Thank you. 

The tapping of Alastor’s staff and his hushed string of curses were nothing compared to the smug smirk that nearly split Angel’s face.

“Hey Whiskers, it’s me!” A knock echoed on Husk’s freshly crafted door, pentacle etchings still bonded to the knotted wood. 

His calls were only met with silence.

“C’mon, I ain’t gonna try anything. We’re past all that and you know it.”

The silence persisted. A louder knock. Shit. Alastor was definitely not the type to play a prank, and Husk definitely wasn’t the type to stay quiet forever.

“You okay? You ain’t bleedin’ out on the carpet, right?” He worried his bottom lip, running a thumb against sore knuckles. “...Husker?”

“I heard you the first time.” A gruff voice answered. Oh thank fuck.

“Then what're ya waitin' for? Let a gal in, would ya?”

“Can't.”

“Alright, fine. Then I'll do it myself.”

“No!” A tornado warning seemed to go off the second the doorknob was even slightly turned. All sorts of bits and bobs were haphazardly knocked about in a cacophony of noise. Somewhere along the way the chaos settled for a brief moment, ragged breaths building and building until--

"Ht'shhuh! Hut'CHNX! HHHT'CHNXT'uh!" The sound of shattered glass pierced the air, and Angel Dust nearly jumped in place at the sharp yelp that followed.

"Hey, what the Hell!?"

“I'm okay, don’t-- kaff kaff! don't move. I’ll come to you.” Husk croaked. The door finally crept open and– oh.

“Oh. Oh, wow.” The spider whistled at the sad sight before him. “Ya look like shit.” 

 Or at least, the little bits that poked out. The bartender’s bedsheets were wrapped around him like a patchwork cocoon, making every second standing a heavy, tangled effort for the shivering bundle. Underneath the makeshift hood that covered his head, the fur on his face was matted with sweat, a single claw pressed just below a flushed nose. His eyes were squinting through a bleary fog, as if it took his entire being just to concentrate.

“Nice t’ see you too. Listen. I’m obviously sick, so if you need somethin’ from me just grab it and go.”

Okay, rude. This was not the kind of hot mess Husk usually was-- at least, not six months into their trauma bond. And strange enough, his room was no different. Card collections, casino chips, beer bottles, all the little things were flung every which way. But the most bizarre was a trash can haphazardly stuffed to the brim with red and black feathers, peppered by wads of clawed-through tissues.

“Uhhhh.” Angel Dust's brow furrowed at the sea of half-broken junk, “I don’t need nothin’, but I’m pretty sure if I did then I'd need to ask a gravedigger first.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake– then what do you want?!” Husk snapped. Angel stilled, surging through ten different emotions at once. But the sickly  demon only landed on one, eyes wide with overflowing guilt. He hunched low, retreating towards his bed with wobbling steps. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to– I. I’m just not feelin’ right. Snf! But I'll be better by t-tuhh-tomorrow. Jus’…just forget thihhh-this ever…ever ha-happened.”

Angel Dust watched on in disbelief, mouth slightly agape. Maybe Charlie, Princess of Friendship, could have calmly negotiated with the bartender. Maybe she could have sung a song to magically solve a lesson of the day. Maybe she could have shown love and kindness and all the redemption bullshit that he'd come to respect. But Angel Dust was not Charlie. Angel Dust was Angel Dust. So, with all the love and kindness in his heart, the spider stepped a foot on the blankets and yanked his friend backwards. And caught off guard, Husk released the claw that kept a worrying tickle at bay. 

"Hhhuhh...huh! Hup'shhhoo! Hup'SSHHHUH! Sh-shihhh-shihht nohhh-not agaaaiihhhh…Heh! HETCHHH'HOO!" A pair of wings involuntarily flapped at the small fit, sending a small firework of feathers into the air. Patchy, bare spots that once balanced the owlcat sent him stumbling on the ever-tilting floorboards. And suddenly, body moving before his mind could, Angel Dust hurriedly caught the other in a low dip. Tangled under his partner's shadow, Husk’s red-tipped ears folded until they practically pressed against his skull.

“Snff! Uh. Thanks.” He swallowed.

“No problem.” Angel echoed, stopping to blow a feather from his mussed bangs.

“...You can let go now.”

“If I do, are ya goin' to fall before you even touch the bed?”

Husk's pause lasted a second too long.

“That's what I thought. Now, I’m gonna lead with your shoulder and your waist. And it'll just be touch and nothin' else, cross my heart.”

“Hey, you– kaff! offered to help me out. If there’s an issue that you’re lookin’ for, I couldn’t see one if I tried.” The other mumbled, unsure if he could get any redder.  “But thanks for the heads up, Ange. I mean it.”

Gently the spider guided him with four sturdy arms, the third pair growing to snatch up his shed blankets along the way. Looking down, Angel’s heart suddenly squeezed as the cat in his hold immediately fought sleep at the touch, head lolling against his chest.

“Soooo. You can molt?” Angel squeezed his shoulder playfully.

“...Mm. Sucks, but I always push– snff! Ugh, push through it.” Husk grumbled, scrubbing his eye with a paw to force himself awake. Looking anywhere but at his helper.

“Oh, please! You know I ain’t stoppin’ here, right? I’ve fucked a lotta demons with wings and I gotta say, those bad boys ain't gonna pity ya anytime soon. 'Specially paired with that cold've yours.” He pushed Husk onto the mattress, ignoring the soft grunt that followed. “Now lay down.”

Finally relenting, his patient rolled onto his stomach, pressing a pillow over his head to muffle his thoughts for two entire seconds– or at least while his back and nose had stopped itching something awful. Because without realizing it a warm smolder had filled his chest, sparked at the onslaught of attention. It was the cold. It was just the cold. It was not the sheer audacity of being needy for once in his miserable life. Goddamnit, when had he suddenly become so needy?

“Good boy.” A voice whispered gently, breath hot against his bare back. Yep, that's nausea. Definitely nausea and nothing else. Husk quickly stomped out the growing flame before it could spread any further. Unfortunately, a different sensation crawled up his nose, and he pressed the feather-stuffed fabric against his muzzle. Desperate to not deal any more damage. He was supposed to be the hotel’s bartender. He was supposed to be Angel Dust's bartender. It was his job to look out for the struggling souls around him, not the other way arou-- 

"Huh! Hhhhuuhhh...F-fuck."

"Need help?"

“Wh-whuhh— Snff! What?” Craning his head, the tip of a discarded feather tickled the rim of his nostrils, and whatever pained torture Husk would have had to grin and bear was swapped with another.

"HUP'CHOO! HUT'CHHHOO! Hhhuhhh...hhhuh!...hah hhahhhhHTCH'HUH! Hhhhhuuhhh.......hhhuhh.....hguhh...snff! Ow." Between ragged gulps for air, he heard the thump of books and bottles fall from the high shelves above. He didn't even want to look at the state of his room right now. Instead he blindly grabbed for a tissue, sharp trumpeting blows intertwined with flustered apologies. 

He regretted even thinking about opening his eyes. He would have rather sneezed himself into a second death than deal with the disaster that regularly re-disorganized itself. But vision clearing, he blinked back shock as Angel Dust already had a mop in hand, cleaning supplies at the ready. Steam curled against the cat demon’s cheek, and he turned to see a rag was already soaking on the nightstand. Mystified, the bartender watched as his patron stop mid-task to slide it forward, a welcoming smile on his face. The bowl seemed to move in an oddly nostalgic way. Like the film strip of a memory that didn’t quite catch the light.

Or the offer of a refreshing drink and a silver tongue.

"...This is stupid." Husk finally broke the silence.

"Ugh, I know right? The books are no big deal, but whisky's gonna be a bitch to get outta the carpet. I'll have to grab Niffty before it stains--"

"No. I mean, you don't need t’ clean up after me. I...I-I can do it myself." Husk mumbled, pushing himself upright– or rather, made a daring attempt before collapsing back on the mattress.

Angel Dust stared. Really stared. Throwing aside the handle in his palm, he rested two right hands on his hip. “Husk. Sugar. Sweetheart. Babydoll. You dragged me kickin’ and screamin’ outta bad days plenty of times. What's wrong with me doin’ the same for you?”

“Oh c’mon, we both know that I can do all this bullshit myself. Cleanin’ my room. Washin’ my wings. Why do you need t’ be my personal assistant for the day when you're so busy dealin’ with the studio! 'Specially with Him bitchin’ and moanin’ and runnin' you ragged! I see you stumble through the door at three in the morning, clutching your stomach like it got whittled to nothin’! He orders you around like a goddamn dog on a leash, and then you come home to what? Take care of another asshole like me? Why should some shitty ex-overlord get the same kinda treatment?”

--rubbing elbows with a washed up, wrung out has-been--

Oh.

Oh that motherfucker.

"You--" Angel Dust felt his blood boil, chasing away the ghost of radio static that crawled under his skin. “Are you fuckin' kidding me?!”

Husk jolted, fur puffing in surprise as Anthony pulled him onto his lap. “Stop bein' a dumbass! You deserve this. You deserve to be pampered. If ya think I’m here because I feel pressured and not because you’re actually– oh I dunno, worth bein’ cared for– then let me make things crystal fuckin’ clear for you.”

“Kid–” Overgrown pleas were cut at the stem, body going limp as a steaming cloth trailed down bone dry wings. And as dark thoughts began to drift, the spider rested his chin on the crook of Husk’s neck. One by one he plucked every warped thought with every warped feather.

"You ain't forcin' me to do nothin'. You ain't payin' me as a client. You ain't no toxic ex. And you definitely ain't like Valentino. So get it through your thick skull-- I don't hang around ya 'cause I need to." Cupping a flushed cheek for good measure, Anthony ever so slightly tilted a hypnotized gaze his way. "I do it because I want to."

Faces flushed and heavy-lidded with bliss, the actor forgot himself, bathing in the silence. The peace. The safe haven he called Husk.

The other, very predictably, pulled back to sneeze.

Husk buried his muzzle in a tissue before he could give his drinking buddy-- friend-- partner-- whoever the fuck was in front of him at this point in time an impromptu shower.

"'CHNX! CHNXT'hhhooo...hhhuh! HUH'ASHHHOO!" He cautiously peeked open an eye, blinking back shock when his wings didn't snap open. Instead they continued to lay there, well-washed and preened to perfection. So with a shaky breath he lit the spark in his chest, allowing it to burn gently through his ribcage like it was a small, rusty hearth. Swallowing down a soft purr before it could escape.

"Wait, wait, wait." Yanked back to reality Angel Dust grabbed the cat demon’s shoulder to spin him around, looking him dead in the eye. "Am I crazy, or do you sneeze in triples every time? That’s. Adorable."

"Oh shuuhhh…hhuh!" A blur of a black and red feather swept under his prickling nostrils, fanged smirk kissing the base of downy barbs between lithe fingers.

"Hhhhuh! You s-suhhnofa-a-aahh!...hhhah…” Husk held his breath like his afterlife depended on it, desperately scrubbing at his muzzle to quell the angry itch. Startling when Angel’s lips pecked the tip of his raw nose.

Shit.

“F-fuhhhcking ch-ch-chhheater– Hhhept'choo!" Husk doubled over into the nearly-shredded tissue.

"Oh my goodness, bless you!" The spider demon cooed teasingly. "One."

"Sh-shuhhht…sh-shu-shut the fuck uhhp-- HUP'CHHH’hhoo!"

"Yeesh! That was a big one. Two."

"Guuuuhhh...g-gonna kihh-kill youhhhuuhhh-hhuh-huh-hah! HATCH'HHHOO!"

"Hah! I knew it! Holy shit, that’s so cute!" Angel Dust gushed through bouts of uncontrollable laughter-- rudely interrupted when a pillow smacked him square in the face.