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azrielbrainrot · 2 months

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I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 2

Azriel x Reader

Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood, injury

Word Count: 6670

Notes: The original plan wasn't to write more of this story but I had a few ideas of where to take this and decided to turn it into a mini series, don't think it will be longer than 3-4 chapters. Also I don't know if the HoW has cells in the books but it does here and they're normal, not dungeon-y like, and the story is set after acosf but Amren never got turned into fae because I like her better like this. A lot of people liked the first part so I really hope this one doesn't disappoint. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 ○ Part 3

Azriel was at the townhouse before he even fully realized what was happening. Didn't even give anyone an explanation, simply letting his shadows take him, barely hearing the questioning cries of his name. He didn't need to hear anything else aside from your name to know that's where he should be, his body moved before he even had time to formulate the thought.

Your sweet scent invaded his brain before he even arrived at the house. He'd be able to recognize it anywhere, he'd longed for it for so long after all. Every day when he opened his eyes, he hoped he would wake up to your scent floating around this house as it once did, as it did right now. He's not one to go into anything blindly, to run head first and only think about the consequences later, but this felt like his last chance. The loneliness that had settled deep in his soul had been replaced with hope with one word.

His shadows move to different corners of the room as soon as he's dropped off, leaving him uncharacteristically naked, unguarded. Even the shadows that would form naturally from the faint glow of the moon seemed to move off his face. They wanted him to enjoy this moment in full, this was his and only his.

In truth he barely noticed them leave, too preoccupied with the figure in front of him. He wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't witnessing it with his own eyes. How many times had he been haunted by this exact vision in his dreams? There you were standing in the sitting room, shining like a goddess under the moonlight filtering through the windows. You hadn't changed since the last time he saw you, only had gotten even more mesmerizing if anything.

Your hair was a bit shorter than you usually wore it, the tight pants a contrast to the usual short skirts you preferred. Then there was a scar running across your neck, even with the distance and darkness in the room he could tell it ran from ear to ear. It was a painful reminder of what you've been through, of the night he couldn't protect you. But it meant this was real. You were actually standing in front of him. This was something he had dreamed of many times, almost every night since you've been gone.

He calls your name and it feels amazing. Just the sound of your name leaving his lips, not in mourning or wistfulness but as a greeting, is enough to bring a face splitting grin to his face. Gods, he missed saying your name without almost feeling suffocated by the weight that formed in his chest.

You startle at the sound, seemingly not expecting company at the house. He has no time to study the strange expression on your face though, he needs to touch you first, to feel your skin against his, your warmth against his body, your heart beating behind your ribcage. He needs to make sure this is real and not some cruel dream or hallucination his mind thought up to torment him. He needs you to be really back.

As soon as your eyes meet his form, he clears the distance between you in two hurried steps, but, before he can hug you, he feels your hand reach out to him. He doesn't even have time to realize you're reaching towards his thigh, to Truth Teller. He doesn't know if it was confusion holding him back, the strangeness of the whole act or if he's simply willing to take anything as long as it comes from you, but he makes no movement to stop you from grabbing his knife, allowing you to pierce it through his stomach, never so much as looking away from your beautiful face or even flinching at the blade.

He can feel every inch of the dagger inside him, can feel the blood quickly seeping through his shirt. Still, the pain in his gut can't hold a candle to the relief and joy running through his veins. You're real. The knife went through, so you have to be real. He can clearly hear your heartbeat now as well, it sounds strong aside from how fast it's going.

Azriel reaches a hand out to you again, slower as not to startle you. He can't help the fluttering of his own heart as you finally let him make contact with the softness of your skin. You haven't moved your hands from the knife, your wide eyes staring at your now blood covered hands. He caresses your cheek lovingly and tilts your face up so he can meet your eyes at last.

He can tell something is wrong, as if it hadn't been glaringly obvious by his favorite knife currently stuck in his stomach. Your eyes seem unfocused, a bit panicked, maybe even angry. But he can't bring himself to care in this moment.

He doesn't know if this is your revenge for letting you die, for not finding you, or even if this is what you had wanted out of him from the start, maybe your whole relationship had been a lie. It doesn't matter. He'll gladly die at your hands if that's the fate you chose for him. At least he'd spend his last moments with you, a privilege he didn't think he would have the pleasure of experiencing.

His heart threatens to stop altogether when your eyes meet, it feels like time stopped around him. “You're home, my love,” he breathes out, letting out a soft disbelieving chuckle, “You're finally home.” He raises his other hand to your face, caressing both your cheeks with his scarred thumbs, he almost forgot how soft your skin felt against his rough hands. He's been clutching at faint memories for decades.

His smile falters when his thumb moves down, stroking down your jaw to the column of your throat, where a scar runs across your neck. He watches his thumb following the clean line, his scars had always been awful reminders of what was done to him, it ate at him even five centuries later, but seeing yours hurt even more. You should have never known this kind of pain.

“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper, confusion and fear holding it hostage. He looks back up into your eyes, seeing the same emotions swim in your gaze even more heightened. He didn't like that, you would never have any reason to be scared of him. He goes to tell you as much when he feels power surging into the room.

“Azriel?” Cassian's voice cuts through the moment and he has to close his eyes to keep himself calm. He wanted more time with you, wanted to talk to you before they got here, before they saw the blood but had gotten too distracted. His mind wasn't working properly, his thoughts were all over the place, he wanted nothing more than to hug you but was too aware of how strangely you were acting. He couldn't keep you and his family in check, not with every instinct inside him screaming to just pick you up and winnow you to the other side of the world.

He calls his shadows to him, a desperate attempt at hiding his injury. He knows it's in vain when he feels Rhys let go of the damper on his power, letting the suffocating night fill up the room. You look positively terrified now, he can even smell it mixing in your sweet scent. Letting go of your face, an act that takes more effort than he could imagine, he turns around slowly, trying to be mindful of keeping you covered, protected from his family.

Your hands don't stop holding onto the dagger, as he moves away from you, the force of it is enough to pull it out of his stomach and let the blood run free with no resistance. The pain was getting worse, it didn't look like you hit any vital organs but his healing wasn't fast enough to keep it at bay on its own.

Feyre is the first to move towards him when she sees the blood, but he simply holds up a hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Trying to keep a leveled head was proving to be a near impossible task as he saw the anger in everyone's faces, it was directed at you. He holds onto his abdomen, the pain was making itself known.

Seeing Azriel stop his mate from approaching, Rhys walks closer to the shadowsinger himself. His face was a mix of regret and fury as he spoke up. “What happened here, Azriel?” If his mind was in the right place he would have noticed the restraint his brother was showing at seeing him bleeding out in his house, restraint only present because of his own feelings towards you. Unfortunately, Azriel's instincts were winning against logic.

He hears you finally drop Truth Teller behind him, your body must have started listening to you when Rhysand got too close, recognizing him as a threat. He makes the mistake of looking back at the knife, not hearing the snarl that curls his brother's lips in time. Rhys winnows behind him in that moment and you had gotten too close to the window for him to reach you.

“Don't touch her,” he warns Rhys viciously. He doesn't want to think what he was capable of if anyone hurt you again, even if it was his own brother.

He sees you fall to the floor before he registers what happened. His heart almost leaps out of his throat, letting out an anguished cry of your name as he runs to you, pushing his brother out of the way and holding you up from the ground. Searching for a pulse frantically, he finds you were only unconscious. A breath of relief escapes him as he pushes your hair out of your face, it almost brings tears to his eyes. You will be fine. Rhys had only entered your mind to keep you asleep and stop you from escaping. You will wake up. You will not leave him again.

He hugs you closer to him, too focused on making sure you were alright and keeping his breathing leveled to hear what they were saying behind him. He felt as helpless as when he was still a child being subjected to his father's cruelty. It takes him a while before he finally calms himself down enough to hear the argument behind him.

“Let's talk to him first,” Cassian says, the emotion clear in his voice.

“He put up a shield around them,” Rhys was sounding less like a High Lord by the word, “He's not in his right mind.” A shield? He checks the air around them to find that his brother was right, there was a shield around them both, even his shadows had moved to cover them, separating them from the world.

“Neither are any of you,” Nesta's voice cuts through everyone, finally silencing them.

“We already called for Madja,” Feyre uses the silence that settled to speak, “We can get him treated and hold her somewhere until she wakes up.”

“No,” he drops you gently on the ground, letting his shadows cover you, protect you, before turning to face his family.

Feyre hesitates before continuing, seeing something on his face that makes her choose a different approach. He never mentioned being married to her but your name had been brought up before, he knew Rhys had filled her in on what happened, still she couldn't understand what he was feeling. Even he couldn't.

“The cells under the House of Wind are safe. It's just for-”

“You will not put my wife in a cell,” the words came out clipped, slipping through clenched teeth, the shadowsinger was barely holding on to a sense of restraint against his High Lady.

“She stabbed you,” Rhys yells, looking down at the wound in his brother's torso, thankfully already starting to heal, “it doesn't matter that she used to be your wife.” The growl Azriel lets out at his brother is nothing short of vicious, a feral and lethal thing rising straight from the center of his being.

“She is still my wife,” Azriel says behind a snarl, “And you will not hurt her.” Even if it was in the clean cells of the House of Wind, he could never bear to see you caged. He was ready to go to any lengths necessary to make sure of that. If helping you escape the Night Court was what it took he knew of a few ways not to get caught.

He could see Rhys' shoulders tense up, his own face morphing to match Azriel's fury. He didn't know if his mental shields were down or if his intentions were just uncharacteristically clear on his face but he was sure that his brother knew what Azriel - his spymaster - was thinking.

“She can stay in one of the rooms up in the House,” Cassian offers quickly, trying to settle the rising tension between his brothers, “She can't winnow out because of the wards and we can watch her until she wakes up.” Deep down he knows they don't want to hurt you either, that they're only worried but it's difficult to pay attention to the voice of reason within him during this whole situation. His greatest wish had just been answered. So why does everything seem to be falling apart with it?

Mor winnows in with Madja before he can give them a response which is a good thing because anything he could come up with would probably only put you and him in a more precarious situation. There were too many emotions warring inside him, the same going around almost everyone in the room if only more intense. The healer's presence seems to dissipate most of the tension automatically as Rhys even turns to look out the window and allows his mate to hold onto his hand, probably telling him soothing words in his mind.

Madja moves to Azriel with no hesitation, only stopping briefly when she senses the shield. She merely gives him a look before he drops it so she can reach him. He knows she wouldn't hurt you, knows he needs the wound in his stomach taken care of so he can focus on you, think about what to do when you wake up.

“You need to sit down so I can treat you,” she tells him while inspecting the wound.

“I will not leave her.”

“You can trust her with us, Az,” Mor tries to reassure him, but with the way the last minutes have played out he wasn't trusting you with them, or anyone else for that matter. He'd just gotten you back, no way is he letting you out of his sight for a second, he could bleed out for all he cares.

Suddenly, he sees Nesta walk to the table and grab a chair through his peripheral. She appears to be mumbling something to herself but he can't quite hear her to understand. She walks to him and drops the chair in her hands on his right, before giving him a narrow eyed look and returning to her mate's side.

He's not sure how much she knows of the situation. The three sisters probably all know by now that he used to be married but none of them has mentioned you to him, warned by whoever told them of the consequences of doing it.

He sits on the chair and lets Madja work on him. The wound wasn't too bad, even if he didn't have access to a healer it would close in a short time. You stabbed it cleanly through, just like he'd taught you. If he hadn't been the practice dummy he might praise you for it. By the Mother, he thinks he still might. He wonders if you'll grace him with a bright smile and flushed cheeks for it like you used to.

Azriel looks over to your sleeping form under the moonlight. He's calming down enough that he's starting to feel the uncertainty bubbling inside him. Truth Teller still laid on the floor beside you, covered in his blood just as your hands were.

“Is she…” What did he want to ask? Is it really her? How did she survive? There was so much blood on the ground that night. He didn't need to be a healer to know it was too much for someone to survive with no immediate help and an absurd amount of luck. “Is it really her?” He whispered the question, not bearing to look away from you as he does.

“You know that better than me,” the healer answers calmly. He can sense some emotion in her voice. You had asked her to make tonics to help him sleep and relax many times, to teach you basic healing and how to put on bandages to help him when he was too stubborn and not gravely injured enough to go see the healer. She probably missed you as well. “She's healthy.”

He feels a rush of relief at the words. You're healthy. The confirmation allows him to relax further. Finally looking away from you to see part of his family still watching the scene before them. He knows they too were thinking about the blood, the sleepless nights they spent searching for any sign of you. His eyes meet Rhys' briefly, knowing they'll need to talk about what happened.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, letting out a soft sigh. You're back. He never thought he'd see you again but you're right here next to him. You're not a dream or a hallucination. You're healthy. The thought almost brings a smile to his lips despite the situation. Anything else can be dealt with now that you're by his side again.

“Are you sure you don't need to rest, Az?” He looks up from the familiar ring, still twisting it around his finger. It felt right putting it back on, he was almost giddy at the sight of the silver in his finger, but it also left him with immense guilt eating at him for taking it off in the first place. He studies Nesta's face for a second, giving up on trying to decipher what she was thinking in favor of looking back at you.

When everyone calmed down enough and Azriel was treated, it had been decided that you couldn't be left alone even in the room, they needed someone to keep an eye on you. It had also been quickly added that Azriel wasn't enough, his brother had seen right through him, he knew Azriel wouldn't try to stop you from killing him or trying to escape if you put your mind to it.

Cassian and Mor refused to stand watch unless it was truly necessary. He knows they wouldn't want to be put in a position where they had to stop you, knew they would not only feel guilty for hurting you but also wouldn't forgive themselves for hurting Azriel.

Even Rhysand, used to the weight and impartiality of the High Lord's title, looked hesitant in keeping him company, he had already forcefully invaded your mind to take your consciousness away, something he had vowed never to do to his friend. He could definitely stop you both from any of the worse case scenarios but at a cost he couldn't bear to pay.

That had left him with the two trained Archeron sisters and Amren. They set shifts to make sure Azriel was never left alone with you, he thinks they might not even trust him not to take you away from the room himself and help you escape. He can't really be sure himself if he wouldn't do exactly that if you asked. He'd follow you to the end of the world and beyond just to hear you call his name one more time.

“The wound is healed,” he whispers, keenly aware of your sleeping form, a habit that came to him naturally after seeing you. You always liked to sleep in and waking you up before your time was close to a death sentence.

“That's not what I meant.” Nesta walks closer to the chair beside your bed, the one he hasn't gotten up from since tucking you into the bed carefully. She placed a hand on his shoulder and studied you for a moment, something she's been doing since her shift started. “She stabbed you,” she says in an usually hesitant tone coming from her, “Are you sure it's her?”

“I would sooner forget my own name than mistake my wife for someone else,” the words came out clipped even with him trying to hold back his anger. It wasn't her fault for being suspicious, Nesta never got the chance to meet you, barely even heard about Azriel's marriage. She just wants to protect him, protect her friend.

“Why would she hurt you then?”

“Maybe it's my punishment,” the words leave him before he can think them through. It doesn't matter anyway, they all saw the state he was in at the townhouse. No point hiding now.

“Punishment?” She took a step back from the chair to be able to face him, her perplexed face coming into view. “You didn't do anything wrong.” The notion was almost laughable. Azriel had done plenty wrong in his life.

“I didn't find her,” he whispers, facing away from his friend in favor of watching you, “She's been out there for almost a century, on her own,” he clenched his fists at the thought, “and I didn't find her.”

“I know you looked for her as best as you could. I know you all did.” And what good did his best do?

“You don't understand, Nesta,” he says as he looks down at the ring once again, closing his eyes briefly at the burn he felt in his head. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, didn't want to explain his feelings to any of them.

“I do,” she starts, “If something happened-”

“If,” he cringes at how he raised his voice, immediately looking over to your sleeping form to make sure he didn't disturb you, and then added more quietly, with the same conviction in his tone, “If something happened to Cassian you would understand. But it hasn't and so you don't.”

Nesta lets out a defeated sigh, moving back to her original seat by the window, patting his shoulder comfortingly on her way. His eyes are focused on you once more and he has no intention of letting them stray until you wake up, and long after you do.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

You wake up slowly, your mind aware of your near consciousness before your body can follow. It feels like you've never been this deeply asleep, even the dreams that usually haunt you were quiet. Perhaps that's why it takes you so long to remember your current situation, it could also be the strangeness of it. You keep your eyes closed as your body and mind slowly come to.

You didn't expect to be lying on a bed, an unbelievably soft bed at that, after being caught stealing from the High Lord's home and then stabbing someone from his so-called Inner Circle. You're not sure when you lost consciousness but, in the split second the High Lord stood in front of you, you were more than certain you wouldn't be able to escape death again.

The sun is high in the sky, meaning you failed your mission, not only because you had been caught but also for not getting to the meeting point on time. Whether at the hands of your captors or your employers you were already as good as dead. The thought has heat burning behind your eyelids and your throat threatening to close up.

You don't even know what happened. This whole mission had seemed above your expertise from the start. You had never been sent on a mission to Prythian and the fact that you were sent to steal from a High Lord's home, the strongest in history at that, had sowed doubts inside you from the moment you heard about your mission from your handler. That and the sinking feeling in your gut as you listened to their descriptions of the city and people working for the High Lord. Every cell on your body was trying to reject this idea.

Deciding to trust your gut, you even brought up your doubts to your superiors, going as far as asking why you were being sent to retrieve some book when there are other fae more experienced in working there. There wasn't even any time to study the place or come up with escape routes. You had never been sent into any mission like this. Your worries had been quickly dismissed. They seemed completely convinced you wouldn't be caught, that you were the only member capable of this job.

Sneaking into the city had been simple enough, there seemed to be some celebration happening since so many fae were drinking and dancing around bars and even on the street. Your uneasiness only got worse as you walked through the streets. Something was wrong, every single one of your instincts was screaming at you, but you couldn't figure out why.

You walked to an alley close to the High Lord's house and surveyed the perimeter, making sure your intel was correct and the house was truly empty. After postponing the inevitable long enough, you took a deep breath and winnowed straight into the house, and, just like your handler told you, there were no wards or shields stopping you from entering. You thought this was peculiar for a High Lord but many powerful fae think themselves invincible to the point of arrogance and at the sacrifice of their own safety.

As you walked quietly through the hallway, your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying you into a big room with sofas and a fireplace instead of the office you were supposed to be already searching through. You had the same feeling of deja vu as when you were walking through the illuminated streets before, something about the portraits on the walls and the peculiar chairs had your heart sputtering in your chest. It was an intricate design but you could swear you'd never seen anything like them before.

You moved closer to the window, far enough that no one could see you through it, and looked down at the city once more. Taking in the lights, the colorful houses and the fae cheerfully walking around the streets despite the late hour. There is no place like this in Montesere, not even close, so you don't understand how you could be confusing it, you really feel like you've been here before. Everything down to the names of the stores and smells wafting through the air look strangely familiar.

As you got lost in your thoughts, you had completely forgot about your mission. Letting your guard down, enough so that you didn't hear or feel anyone's presence in the same room until you heard them call out someone's name. The sound had goosebumps traveling through your entire body, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What scared you the most wasn't even the fact that you had just been caught but that voice, that name, almost brought tears to your eyes.

You stood frozen for a moment before turning around slowly and your entire body went still at what you saw. The male in front of you was the same one that haunted your dreams ever since you could remember, you would recognize that figure, those wings, those eyes anywhere.

You almost doubted you were awake at all but when he moved closer to you, standing in front of you before you could even blink, your body moved to protect yourself on instinct, to do as you had been taught at the guild. Your movements were a lot slower than usual, almost like something inside you was trying to stop you from hurting him but you had still managed to grab the long knife strapped to his thigh and stab it through his stomach in one clean movement.

The knife went in smoothly and he simply took it without trying to stop you or even letting out a sound. You've taken countless times before, killing was part of your life, of your job, but watching his blood run and coat your hands had made you feel incredibly guilty. You couldn't move, couldn't even let go of the knife.

When his hand reached to touch your face - a movement you didn't even register until his rough skin came in contact with your cheek - your wild eyes had met his and, suddenly, it felt like the world was spinning. The bright hazel was so familiar you could cry. He'd been starring in your dreams for so long but you'd never seen him quite this close. As you slowly let your mind catch up to you, you noticed he was smiling.

“You're home, my love,” he whispered softly. Your heart had felt like it was going to beat out of your chest at that point. You were missing something, a piece of information that felt like it was swimming right on the edge of your brain, but you couldn't quite reach it. His hands had both moved to cup your face by the time you found your voice.

“What?” What is going on? Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why is your touch so familiar? My love? Your brain was filled with questions but you couldn't even find it in you to ask them. Couldn't look away from his eyes, the former joy seen in them giving way to something else.

“Azriel?” Both of you had tensed at the voice behind him. It seems he didn't hear anyone else arrive either, too caught up in each other and whatever mysterious tension was tying you together.

Your hands had tightened around the dagger on instinct, you could feel the power rippling through the room. You should have ran away while it was only him, he had let you stab him so maybe he would let you run away as well. But, as night incarnate filled the room, you knew every chance you had at an escape was lost.

The rest of the events were a blur, one moment you were watching more and more people winnow into the room, sending your heart further into disarray, and the next the High Lord himself stood in front of you with fury and what looked like disappointment etching his features, and then everything went dark.

As your memories from the night before fade, you become more aware of your surroundings. You could hear two separate breaths close to you, could smell two distinct scents, you suppose it was lucky enough that they had let you sleep on a bed, it's only natural they'd have someone keeping watch.

If they'd been watching you this whole time they would have to know you were awake by now, so you open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness in the room. You study the intricate gold designs on the dark navy ceiling. Why did even the ceiling seem familiar? It feels like you are losing your mind.

Your head turns to the nightstand, where a cup of water sat over a flower shaped lace coaster. You almost gulped at the sight of it, your throat was so dry you weren't sure you could speak, but you were in a stranger's house, one you had tried to rob the night before, there had to be a catch somewhere and you didn't want to end at the cruel hands of poison.

Two pairs of eyes burned into you, and since you're not going to drink anyway, you decide that there's no delaying this confrontation any more. You turn to look at them, not surprised at finding the winged male sitting close to your bed, but he was accompanied by someone else, something else.

You sit up in bed slowly, not wanting to appear as a threat and startle them into thinking you had intentions of escaping or attacking you. You really didn't know why they hadn't just dumped you in a dark dungeon - you heard about their less than kind reputation before coming here - but you wanted to keep in their good graces if you could help it. They're probably keeping you to know more about who sent you, shame you can't tell them anything, maybe they'd even let you go if you could.

When you sit up against the headboard, your eyes meet the male's immediately, as if you were called to do it. Some of the same emotions you had seen last night were still shining in his eyes, but today there was so much more, so much so that you couldn't even begin to pick them apart even with the difference of a calm mind.

Your captors don't move so you take the moment to study the male before you. He always showed up covered in shadows in your dreams, you had barely caught glimpses of his face in the almost century of seeing him. Which was a real shame if you dared to admit it. He has an exceptionally beautiful face, the sun filtering through the window was giving his tan skin an ethereal glow, his eyes shine brightly, allowing you to make up the different tones of green and brown within them. His hair was stark black, curling slightly at the ends.

You had noticed the large wings that stood at his back the first time you'd seen him. You've never met any species of fae with wings but his were definitely peculiar. You always thought they were black but, with the brightness in the room and his shadows away, you can see they lean more to a crimson and gray-ish color. Trailing down to his torso, you notice that there doesn't seem to be any blood or sign of injury. He had already gotten healed then. For some reason, your heart calms at that and you try telling yourself it's because it might lessen the trouble you got in.

A shadow moves across him to reach up into his ear, almost like it was whispering something to him. You knew the Night Court's Spymaster was a shadowsinger, the only of its kind, but you didn't know what his shadows could do, what they could see and tell him. The hair on the back of your neck raises as his eyes watch you intently while listening to his shadow's words. They had to be talking about you. Could they read through your thoughts?

“Leave us alone, Amren.” Your eyes finally stray from the male when you hear her name, finally taking in the short creature behind him, and you almost regret it when her bright silver eyes meet yours. She was nothing short of terrifying, you think even the older assassins in the guild would feel unnerved under her gaze. You weren't even sure what she actually was but it had to be something other, something ancient and powerful. She seems displeased at the look you give her, though you doubt she's unacquainted with seeing fear on people's faces, or bothered by it.

Amren narrows her eyes slightly before looking at the male. She studies him with an intensity that could make most fae run for their lives, makes you consider it, but the male doesn't seem to care, his eyes never leaving yours. “I hope you know what you're doing, boy.” She walks out of the room with no hesitation, leaving you alone with the male that walks your dreams once again.

You stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity. Neither of you seem to find the right words. You know why you're having trouble finding them. Between getting caught stealing in his house and the turmoil going on inside you, you're surprised you've been managing to keep your composure at all. But you can't understand why he'd be in the same position as you. Could he also be haunted by dreams of you the same way you were of him?

Leaning forward in his chair, he says the same name you heard last night, the one who made your heart tighten painfully in your chest. You had been too confused and scared last night to even consider it but now you can clearly see he's using it to call you. He seems to think that's your name.

“That's not my name,” you manage through your dry throat, the words coming out so rough and low that you're sure he wouldn't have heard you if it weren't for the quiet in the room. Your answer seems to hurt him, his face drops, the sunlight that was shining through his skin seems to vanish, and you see his wings tighten behind him. Your own body seems to respond to it. You want to make him feel better but you don't know how or why.

He nods almost imperceptibly, as if accepting a fact he was unwilling to, and rises up from the chair, tensing slightly when you press yourself further into the headboard. He seems to try to ignore it as he moves to the nightstand, picking up the glass and handing it to you.

You eye the glass sitting in his brutally scarred hands, momentarily wondering what could have done such a thing if he healed up from a stab wound in mere hours. He senses your hesitation but simply holds it closer to you. You look up to meet his eyes again.

“It's not poisoned,” he offers, “I promise.” You're not entirely sure why but you trust him, or maybe you were just in desperate need of water, reaching up to take the glass from him and almost drinking it in one go. He seems at least pleased enough with this, moving back to sit in his chair. As you observe his movements, you almost miss the way the glass refills on its own. You blink at it, deciding it's not worth considering, and take another slow sip.

Since he doesn't start asking you questions, apparently content enough with watching you drink, and you start to get unusually shy under his intense gaze, you start asking them yourself, seeing this as your chance to know the male of your dreams.

“What's your name?” You play with the glass as you ask, trying to appear nonchalant despite your perilous situation and the tension between you.

“Azriel,” his deep voice cuts through the silence. You repeat it, goosebumps spreading over your body at the act. Nothing is making sense anymore but his name feels right on your tongue.

You say it one more time, letting it linger in your mind. There is something inside you trying to claw its way out at the sound. You can feel it now, can feel how wrong it feels, how wrong you feel. There was a growing pressure inside your head. You let go of the glass and watch it vanish into thin air before it has the chance to make contact with the covers.

The sensation that you've forgotten something really important is back. You look up at the male one more time, seeing he has moved closer to you and noting the worry in his gaze. He wasn't supposed to be worried about you, he's a stranger and you had just stabbed him a few hours ago. So why does it feel right for him to care? Tears line your eyelids, your hands shaking slightly at the strange feelings building inside you.

“I don't know you,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, “I feel like I should.”

taglist: @thisblogisaboutabook @chessebookgirl @going-through-shit @starcrossedsan @macimads @janebirkln @dr4g0ngirl @harrystyles2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @queensl1234 @lisanna2000 @starryhiraeth @shadowsaz @sakurafrost3-blog @evergreenlark @sisterjuliennes @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @historygeekqueen @writingcroissant @abysshaven @pablopascal @that-girl-reading @less-chaotic-brain @naturakaashi @tenshis-cake @sharknutz @isa1b2h3 @thehighlordishere @tarathia @sfhsgrad-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @starsandnightmares @cuethedepession @emryb @mybestfriendmademe @fxckmiup @adharanotfound @b0xerdancer @ervotica @aria-chikage @serendipityx150 @fanboyluvr @rogersbarnesxx

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#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #azriel fic #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar

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writingoddess1125 · 6 months

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Find out they have a Child with You

Luffy, Zoro, Corazon

Old men Series <-

Crocodile, Law, Sanji <-

Support me on Ko-Fi! Allows me to make these stories!

Enjoy!

Luffy

Luffy wasn't exactly known to be the 'Sexuality Active' type- Hell most assumed he was still a virgin by most accounts. That was till you joined the crew..

A childhood friend of Luffy you had always been by his side, and of course jumping at the opportunity to join his crew.

It had been- a open secret if you will, that you and Luffy were together in some way. However everyone assumed it was innocent just like the Captian. You two were young afterall so no one expected anything less- However at night when no one was around you and him shared many nights together. That's how you found out you were pregnant- it was a mistake, this wasn't suppose to happen to you.

You were both too young for this.. too dumb and irresponsible, and you had heard his dreams and goals of being the King of Pirates since you were children- you didn't want to risk stealing his dreams from him... so you did what you thought was best, you ran away.

In the middle of the night you took the lifeboat and disapeared in the east blue water- hoping to never be seen again.

That had been 2 years ago- and your life had never been the same.

"Mama!" You snapped from your deep thoughts to look at your son, Who was happily playing with a toy ship and squealing. He looked too much like Luffy, from the dark head of curls to the bright sunny smile- for a 15 month he was quite a hefty kid and knew quite a few words but his current favorite being-

"Ship!" He said excitedly as he held out the toy for you. You smiled and gently took the toy to look over before handing it back to him.

"I see Aoi, Very nice" You saw sweetly, kneeling down to scoop up the toddler and bring him to your hip.

"You know what day it is! Grocery day!" You said cheerfully making the toddler squeal in joy, you doubted he fully understood you but seeing how he ate you out of house and home you made regular trips to the market with him.

After a short walk outside of your tiny home you made it to the pier market. Filling a basket with one arm and holding Aoi who was squirming like no tomorrow and trying to eat the food you were buying- Having to pay for some food you could rip with your teeth to give to him which he happily eats up. As you are almost done with your shopping a loud voice shouts behind you.

"(Y/N)!" You hear before stretched out hands suddently grab you and pull you back by your waist. A yelp escaping you as you were turned around quickly and met with Non other then Liffy staring at you with a wide smile and holding you up.

You could hear the crew staring at you and the toddler in your arms- Your face starting to turn red as you could hear 'So that why she disapeared?'.. 'Didn't know he had it in him-' .. 'Wait does that mean Luffy and (Y/N) f-' However it was quickly quieted as Zoro scolded them all and insisted they go elsewhere which was guided away by Sanji to God knows where.

Luffy stared at you, then his eyes drifted to the child youbwere holding who was looking around shocked and clearly close to crying. Then back to your face, you knew Luffy could be a bit dense but you saw the recognition immediately as he smiled.

"(Y/N) Wanna come with us to eat?" He asked sweetly, his his gaze following Aoi carefully as the toddler stared back at him. Gulping you nodded softly-

Seemed there was no escaping this one...

Zoro

{ So fun fact! The whole Roronoa family line, their names are based off gambling. Like Zoro's name is based off the Word Pinzoro aka 'Snake Eyes' So his son Koro is based off the word Saikoro aka 'Dice' }

So who knew that you and Zoro's little flings could lead to... unforseen consequences- like the infant who was currently nursing from you.

Being a favorite Bartender had a lot of perks, you got better tips- often the customers were nicer and for your case you often got to spend the night with your favorite customer Roronoa Zoro- whenever he managed to find his way into town you and him often taking a tumble in the bed before departing ways with a goodbye shot and a promise of next time.

Well it seemed the last time Zoro had visited you, both of you got sloppy in your use of protection. Which resulted in the 4 day old currently in your arms- Looking down you couldn't help but be amused by it all.. This defiently wasn't in your plans yet you couldn't be mad either, Falling in love immediately with your son the moment he took his first breaths.

As you sat there in bed, still recovering from the rather harsh birth of your boy you heard a knock on the bedroom door, it cracking as you saw Sumi- a coworker and close friend of yours poke her head in carefully. However you noticed the panic in her face rather quickly and raised a brow.

"Sumi? Is everything okay?"

"Y-Yea but uh- (Y/N).. A uh customer wanted to stop by to see how you wrre doing" Sumi said calmly, you raising a brow at how ridiculous it would be to allow a customer to see you in this state- Prepared to chew her put the door opened and you saw why she had done this... there stood Zoro- hands to his sides as he stared at you, still lying in bed with the baby in your arms.

Sumi knew who the father of your son was- which is why you assumed she did this.. suppressing your anger you nodded for Zoro to enter. He walked to your bedside and stood next to the bed- Sumi quickly leaving.

Silence fell over both of you as Zoro stared at the child in your arms. His gaze calculating the last time he saw you before stepping forward, you didn't move as he carefully pulled reached a hand forward and pulled the blanket down that covered the babies face. He only had to look for a second to see the tuff of green hair and his prominent features poke through.

Silence fell again as he pulled his hand away.

"Is it a boy or Girl?.. Whats their name?" He questioned Zoro taking a breath as he clearly tried to keep his composure. His mind clearly traveling a mild a second before closing his eyes..

"A boy.. His name is Koro-" You said calmly. He nodded clearly favoring the name.

"Roronoa Koro....He is clearly mine- in that case You can't stay here then-" He said eventually, your eyes widening in shock at his words as you held Koro closer to you. Your eyes narrowing in warning, as he reached forward again to look at the Infant.

"What do you mean by that" You question sharply, assuming he was going to propose you go on the ship he lived on- which you wouldn't allow a baby on a damn pirate ship.

"Shimotsuki Village.. In the east blue, it is were I was born and raided.. I think it would be safer for you there. I can send money so you and Koro will be more then safe" He insisted- this actually surprising you as you saw the seriousness in his gaze.

"I will also marry you" He stated calmly, looking around frantically as the air froze in your lungs.

"What!?"

Corazon

It had been the first time in many years you hadn't felt shame.. truthfully you had been in a bad place before you had your daughter. A call girl for Doflamingo and his brother Corazon.

You and Corazon actually dating for a brief time and spending nights together, but the violence of that world always made the relationship bittersweet and unfullfilling. Till you found out you were pregnant, you had wanted to keep it under wraps but when a girl who truthfully hated you found out by you being sick in the bathroom immediately told Doflamingo-

Confronting you in private where you were sure you'd meet your end. Till he made sure to confirm the child was Corazon's.. which you admitted to and he forces you to leave- Kicking you out of the village and demanding you disapear before the sunset or else he would make sure no one ever found you.

So you packed everything in a panic and ran- Ran for your own life and your baby. While sad that Corazon would never know what happened to you or his child.. you figured it would be the best.

So you escaped to another village, not far from the place you once called home and started a new. Working in a restaurant you saved money for a small home and supplies for your child. It had been hard but worth it- Especially when you gave birth to your daughter.

Speaking of which-

Pulling from your memories to check on your 3 month old daughter, seeing her fast asleep in her crib as you set to finish dinner for yourself. Humming as you finish chopping vegetables you nearly jump from your skin when you heard a loud knock on the door- Knowing damn well it woke up your child but you rush over anyway to see. Opening the door you see a looming figure blocking the moonlight to you completely and a familiar smell of cigarettes filled your lungs.

"We are here looki- (Y/N)?" You freeze as you immediately recognize that voice, fear striking your heart as Corazon stared at you with genuine surprise stepped back and looked at you fully in confusion.

"What are you doing here Corazon?" You say calmly, Watching how his eyes swirled with questions at the sight pf you. Most likely noticing something was off by your appearance from when you last saw you.

"I should be asking you the same... after all you did walk out" He pointed out- but before you could speak you hear your daughter cry out and you wince. His gaze following you as all you could do was step to the side to let him in.. it seemed easier this way- He walked in fully forgetting his task at him as he marched straight to the noise.

He looked over the crib, taking in the fussy baby girl- how her face strunched up as she whimpered at the air.. Corazon seeing her features noting their similarities needing only to glance back at you once to see you nod.. The confirmation almost seemingly to knock him back before he carefully scoopedbup the little girl and held her close.

"Whats her name?"

"Dulce- Her name is Dulce" You say softly, Corazon smiling at hearing this- chuckling as he gently touched the cheek of his daughter.

"I like it- So this is why you left? If you had told me I would have been thrilled (Y/N)-" You shake your head at this.

"I wanted to tell you but couldnt... it wasn't my choice to leave. It was leave or die" You stress, and Corazon seems to connect the dots instantly. Doflamingo. He slowly hands Dulce to you and nods.

"Im sorry... But I want you to know.. I have a mission to complete- But I promise I will return and we will raise her together" He said calmly, Kissing your cheek and Dulce's who cooed softly and shifted in her sleep.

He smiled at this as he slowly and hesitantly headed for the door, clearly not wanting to leave but forcing himself to anyway for your safety and your guys daughter.

You watched him leave that night, the smell of tobacco still in the air as you held your daughter close- the warmth of his kiss still hanging onto you while you felt your heart sink.

You didn't know that this would be the last time you saw him... that your daughter would grow up never knowing her father.

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #zoro headcanons #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x y/n #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader #one piece luffy #straw hat luffy #monkey d. luffy #corazon #corazon x reader #op corazon #one piece corazon #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #donquixote family

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 1 month

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 3 to Truth or Dare and Truth or Dare Part 2

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader, Soap

Summary: After being so rudely interrupted in the middle of you and your lieutenant's tryst, but he made a promise. "This isn't over." You hope that he plans to keep it, but when? Things might have to wait as you are assigned to a mission with him. But when being close proves to much, will both of you be able to hold off on your lust or will you succumb to all that tension?

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings:

Part 4: READ HERE

Lt. Riley storms out of the munitions depot seething with frustration as he searches for the private waiting to relay Price’s message to him. Of all the fucking times to be interrupted, why in the hell did it have to be this one time when he was so close to exploring the depths of what the connection sparked between you could bring. Now he is left with nothing but anger and a sizeable bulge in his pants that he has to discreetly readjust before anyone can catch him hard as a fucking rock.

That piercing brown gaze locates the private standing against the side of the building a few feet from the door, his face red, his jaw tense, brow wrinkled up as if he is deep in thought about his predicament at having seen something he shouldn’t. The poor boy has no time to react as heavy-booted steps quickly approach before the lieutenant grabs him by the shoulders and pins him to the wall, glaring at him intimidatingly down through the holes of his mask.

“Let’s get one thing fuckin’ straight, yeah? ‘Fore I let ya go ‘bout your business,” he says, his tone firm and menacing. “I’m only gonna say this once, so ya best listen up. Ya didn’t see a damn thing back there, nothin’ at all, got it private? It’s in your best interest to rid your mind of anything ya think ya might have misunderstood or there will be consequences that ya may not like. Is that clear?”

The private is visibly shaken by his threatening warning and struggles to speak.

Dropping his voice, the lieutenant leans in. “Is. That. Clear?”

Quickly the private collects himself so that he can answer, if only to be released from the lieutenant’s fury. “Y-yes, s-sir,” he confirms.

His answer seems satisfactory enough; Lt. Riley is sure his intimidation has done the trick to keep the boy quiet and he gives him a nod of approval. “Now,” the lieutenant says as he releases the scared private and sets him up straight before stepping back, “ya said Price is lookin’ for me? Did he mention what for?”

“Y-yes sir,” he nods, his voice still shaky, but slowly calming down. “It’s about mission a-assignments.”

“Good man, you’re dismissed.”

With that the private scurries away as fast as he can to leave the lieutenant alone, ready to head towards Price’s office to see what this is all about. He gives one last, lingering glance back at the building, wishing he could just run back inside and pick up where he left off, but he steps off back across base back to where he had just been a little while before.

As he walks he can’t help but wonder how much time is going to pass before he will get the chance to see you again. Who knows what this round of missions will hold; it could be weeks or months of being separated before you both get another opportunity like this.

With a sigh he heads into Captain Price’s office with no expectations other than the same routine that he is accustomed to: get in, get out, job well done. Yet as the lieutenant sits there listening to Price go into detail about the plans for what will be expected on this mission, he catches something that he thinks he’s misheard.

“Sir,” Lt. Riley cuts Price off in the middle of his thought, “can you repeat that last bit.”

Price raises an eyebrow; it isn’t like his lieutenant to interject like this. “Said since I’m wantin’ ya to take a group of the recruits out, I am sendin’ two sergeants with ya: Mactavish and our esteemed female sergeant that you just presumably saw. Help keep ‘em in line to make sure this isn’t a bust.”

The lieutenant’s heart skips a beat as the captain continues on with the brief synopsis of things that will get hashed out over the next days until departure, but Lt. Riley hears very little. Fuck, this is somehow both better and worse than being apart for any length of time. How the hell is he supposed to stay sane when in such close proximity to you?

It’s a couple of hours before he is able to get away from under the discerning eyes of the captain, tasked with telling you about this new development in the morning. The thought alone of seeing you again keeps him up for most of the night as he runs over scenarios in his mind. You’re both soldiers highly trained in what you do, taught how to put things aside to focus on the task at hand; it should be fine, right? And yet… his skin still burns to feel yours against it.

That doesn’t sound like he’ll be fine. He wonders if you’ll be just as miserable too?

The lieutenant decides that it is best to talk to you during your time training the recruits, hopeful that with so many people present it will keep you both tame. He makes his way to the range about midday and as he approaches he catches you in the middle of giving orders to a couple of recruits at the end of the range. Instead of announcing his presence immediately, he allows himself a few seconds just to watch you, his eyes following every curve of your body that he can catch even through your clothes.

There’s no sign anything is amiss until you notice a few recruits are now distracted and no longer participating in the current activity and you follow their eyeline to see the lieutenant standing not far from the group. He nods his head to you in beckoning to come to him and immediately you can feel the heat in your cheeks blossoming until they are glowing warm.

What could he want? you wonder to yourself.

Turning back to your bunch of recruits, you give your order so that you won’t be disturbed while you go see what’s up. “Continue on for a few rounds, switching partners every empty clip while I speak with Lt. Riley,” you bark and they immediately fall into line. “And I have my eyes on you so don’t fuck anything up. Got it?”

A round of yes ma’ams trail behind you as you make your anxious way over to the lieutenant, the rapidly thudding beat of your heart making your steps brisk. Even from here you can see his hands gripping onto the straps of his tactical vest, knuckles almost white, as if he is struggling to stay composed. Your eyes meet as you near and all that intensity comes flooding right back into your body to leave you aching with a need to get closer, though you force yourself to stop with a bit of distance still between you.

“Yes, sir?” you ask, pausing to swallow to keep your voice steady. “How can I help you?”

“Word from Price,” he answers as his eyes inadvertently begin to gravitate to your mouth before he forcefully guides them away. “Mission assignment for next week. You, Soap, and several of the more seasoned recruits will be with me on recon for a few weeks. Nothin’ too intense, should be an easy enough job.”

“Oh?” you say in stunned surprise as your breath hitches. This is the one thing you hadn’t accounted for being a problem so soon, being stuck together on a mission with all this built-up attraction still so hot and heavy between you.

Things are about to get a lot harder and you hope you can make it through without incident.

You must be blushing something fierce now as you can feel it burning in your face the more you contemplate your predicament. In the middle of your thought you notice the lieutenant quickly glance at the group of recruits to your back to be sure they are occupied completely as he steps in towards you and reaches up to swiftly stroke his gloved fingers against the side of your cheek before anyone sees him do it. It takes everything in you not to turn into a puddle at his feet from the contact.

As he brings his hand away from your face, he steps in even more and leans his head down until his mouth is near your ear. “I swear I’m gonna remedy this fuckin’ thing between us soon as I can,” he says in a guttural, breathy whisper as he places a quick kiss to your face with his mask-covered lips. “Just hang on a bit longer. You can do that for me, yeah? Just a couple weeks and then you’re mine.”

He doesn’t know why he just did that, it’s too risky to pull off such a stunt in the open like this, but it seems to be an automatic reaction the way any part of his body simply wants to get closer to you. Though he enjoys it, it is a bit unnerving that he can’t seem to control himself when you are around. Clearing his throat, he shifts back into that detached facade to hide behind until he can put some distance between you.

“We will be ready to deploy Tuesday, 1300 hours. Price will send for you to brief on all necessaries,” he says as he stands back upright. “We’ll just have ta fuckin’ try and keep this under control, yeah?”

You nod silently.

Having finished relaying the information he hurriedly exits, leaving you alone to collect yourself so that you can get through the rest of your day, but that is a monumental task in itself now. If this is the reaction you both have whenever you’re near, what will the weeks you’ll be stuck together bring? You hope you can deflect your thoughts away from all this by staying even busier than usual.

The days leading up to departure are a haze as you try to reconcile that you are going to have to share space with Simon. You fill every single second with any task you can pull, just trying to keep your mind away from the inevitable for as long as possible. Maybe if you never stop, you’ll never have the chance to pine for him; it’s not your best plan, but it works for a few days.

Departure day finally arrives and you immediately are put to the test. As the team loads onto the transport plane meant to take you most of the way, you find yourself the last to board and wouldn’t you know that the only seat available to you is right next to the lieutenant himself. Those brown eyes deep set into that skull mask lock on to you the minute you set foot on board and don’t leave until you take the spot next to him. His body stiffens against you as you get situated in the tight space, matching your body’s reaction.

God, he wants to touch you so bad it physically hurts, but there isn’t a chance that someone wouldn’t see and so he grits his teeth to try and bear it until you land. Next to him, your heart is fluttering a mile a minute, though you aren’t handling it as well as he is. It is the longest flight you both have ever experienced and it cannot end fast enough. By the time you both exit, you feel like you’ve run a marathon just with how much you had been holding your breath through the whole thing.

It is a short trek to the safehouse designated for your stay and the team reaches it a few hours before nightfall. A small, rundown house waits for you and that means you’ll be on top of each other, though there’s a shack out back that must have been a tool shed at some point now long since abandoned. Good, maybe you can hide away in there at points when things get too much.

It’s routine at this point how things go in the field: clearing the area, setting up, breaking down rolls for who does what, which is lucky because your mind is not clear enough to focus on more detailed tasks. How can it be when you’ve spent the last several hours sitting beside the one man in the whole fucking taskforce that you want to screw until neither of you can move?

You need to put some space between you and soon just to get him out of your head for a while to calm down. Even with how tight you’ll be packed together, it will still be farther than you want to be from him. But thoughts like this are dangerous, so when the time comes to discuss watch duty assignments for the night, you spring at the chance to get outside and speak up before anyone else can take that away from you.

“I’ll take the first watch,” you say just as Johnny poses the question. “I’m still wide awake, so I might as well get it out of the way.”

“Damn, ye sure did answer fast; wanna get away from us that bad, lass?” Johnny jokes, elbowing you in the side.

You scrunch your nose and bob your head at him, the typical interaction helping you to get out of your thoughts. “Well, yeah, there’s enough b.o. to suffocate someone in here already,” you pick back, “gotta get some fresh air when I can. Now, fucking can it. Anyway, is that all good, sir?”

Turning your attention to your superior, you wait for his reply and see a strange spark flash through the pupils of his eyes. It’s almost too subtle to tell properly whether or not it’s something more than just the shadows cast by his mask playing tricks on your vision, but does it really matter? As much as you want something to happen between you, you are here to do a job and that is top priority for everyone, including and most of all Lt. Riley.

“That’s fine,” he agrees while diverting his gaze even as he speaks to address the group about setting up for the night, though you can’t help feeling like that is not the real reason he can’t look at you.

Making sure your area is set up how you want it, you double-check your vest and weapon to be sure you will have everything you need for your watch. You set a timer for the clock on your wrist so you’ll know when you should be relieved and then you decide to get a preliminary sweep of the area to be sure of the lay of the land before it gets completely dark. As you head outside, a flash of lightning ripples through the clouds approaching from the distance; it’s going to be an interesting night, that’s a given.

Lt. Riley secretly follows you with his eyes until he can see you move out of earshot and out the front door, only then does he make his way over to the young Scottish sergeant currently setting up his cot in the corner of the room. This is a fucking terrible idea that the lieutenant should immediately reconsider, but he cannot let this go. Bad idea or not, he is in it now no matter what.

Standing at his back until Soap turns around, the lieutenant doesn’t hesitate to speak up the moment the sergeant faces him. “Informin’ ya now, I’ll be the one takin’ second watch,” he says as flatly as he can, even though there is a pronounced pounding in his chest as he says it.

Soap raises an eyebrow before he crosses his arms with a smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Is that so? Hmm…right after sergeant sass?” he questions curiously as his gaze drifts to the door.

The lieutenant’s eyes narrow into a glare behind the mask. “Ya got a fuckin’ problem with that, Mactavish?” he challenges. “Do I need ta make it more clear who’s in charge here?”

“No, no,” Soap says as he shakes his head, “but… ye know ye don’t have ta go to all this trouble; if ye want some alone time, all ye got ta do is say so.”

A distant rumble of thunder sounds from outside the house to add atmosphere to the death glare that Soap is currently receiving after just having said what he did. “Careful,” the lieutenant warns. Guess any picking is off the table for right now, at least if the sergeant doesn’t want to end up in his superior’s bad graces.

“Alright, I hear ye. You’re on second watch, sir,” he agrees with a chuckle as another crack of thunder echoes through the darkening sky that can just barely be spotted through the window from where they are standing. Soap draws attention to it with his head and Lt. Riley’s eyeline follows. “Though ye might wanna bring an umbrella later, ye know on account a things possibly gettin’...wet.”

There is something in that last bit that doesn’t sound like Soap’s usual witty remarks, something about the emphasis he puts on the last word is a bit more on the nose, as if he wants to say something about things he shouldn’t, but the moment is gone as Soap continues with setting up his cot and Lt. Riley dismisses it as coincidence. Nothing has happened this far that would give anything away… right?

A few hours pass and everyone has finally hunkered down for the night… Well, everyone except the lieutenant. Try as he might, he cannot relax. His limbs feel jittery as he lays stirring in his cot, staring into the dark as distracting thoughts race through his mind. The more he focuses on them the warmer he gets until he has to roll up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows just to get some relief from it clinging stiflingly around his body.

It’s still too early for the next watch change, but he can’t just lay here, not when he knows you are right outside the door all alone as everyone is asleep inside. What his plan is he doesn’t fully understand yet, all he can think about right at this moment is just to be near you again. And these types of moments might be the only small chances he will get to even just spend a minute in your company while you’re here.

He gets up and cautiously makes his way through the scattered sleeping team, quiet and careful with his movements until he can make it out the house and into the cooler weather of a gathering storm about to break. The rolls of quiet, distant thunder are more frequent now as he shuts the door behind him, the first drops of precipitation starting to sprinkle over the skin of his bare forearms as he goes in search of you.

Barely getting far, the crunching sound of boot steps are headed his way and he waits on baited breath as you round the corner from the back of the house to return to the spot that you’ve designated at the front for you to sit until your watch ends. Your sight catches a figure standing there in the darkness as you approach, silhouetted by the dim moonlight; by the size of the shadow you instantly know who it is and your heart leaps into your throat.

“All clear?” he asks as you come to stop before him.

“Si..sir,” you go to address him, but a momentary lapse makes you stumble over his title as you almost say his name, though you quickly recover.

Simon chuckles; by your reaction it seems like you’ve been thinking of distracting things as well. Guess that means he isn’t the only one suffering. “We’re alone,” he reassures. “Everyone else’s asleep.”

You nod in acknowledgement. “I was just checking the perimeter and the shed,” you say as you point to the small shack out back behind the house. “Still empty. I have a clear view of it from here so I’d know if anything got in there, but I like to be thorough. Everything else is all clear, though.”

It feels like you are rambling just to stall asking the question you desperately want to ask: why is he out here right now. It couldn’t be that he wants…? No, it is already understood that anything between you is put on hold until later; this must be something else and you chastise yourself internally for getting so worked up over nothing.

As nonchalantly as possible, you bring up your curiosity. “So, what’re you doing up right now? It’s not time for anyone to relieve me yet.”

His stance shifts. “I know,” he says plainly.

“I-is something wrong?” you continue your line of questions. “I haven’t heard anything inside or out.”

Simon pauses as another rumble of thunder fills the background through the light percussive sound of raindrops trickling around you. “Ya know why I’m out here,” he says quieter, unsure if he even should admit it. “I had ta see ya.”

An ache slowly spreads through your chest at his words, your heartbeat pounding, the air not filling up your lungs as you watch him take a few steps so that he can reach out to you and take your hand in his gloved one. He leads you both back around the corner of the house a little further from the entrance to conceal you against the side and out away from any prying eyes.

The light sprinkling picks up as a ripple of lightning flashes across the sky so that the shadows it causes dance across your features. Water begins to stream down over your bodies, coating you in a layer of dampness that soaks through your clothes, your hair, over your skin until everything is moist. It doesn’t take much for Simon’s balaclava to quickly collect too much water for him to stay comfortably underneath it and so without hesitation he takes it off to tuck it into the back pocket of his pants.

He doesn’t mind keeping it off, not around you.

There it is, that face that you have been longing to get a better look at: those beautifully distinct chiseled features with their slight imperfections caused from injuries past. He truly is a fantastic sight, though you may very well be biased now as it wouldn’t have mattered what he had hidden under there, the way you feel around him is attractive enough; this is only a bonus.

You want to reach out and run your fingers along his cheek, but you know it’s risky. It’s been hard enough being here with him already without making contact; you know if you’re not careful with yourself you might not be able to stop and that could risk putting him in a position he doesn’t want to be in yet.

But as you both stand there in the silent company of the other trying to find the words, he moves first.

His gloved fingers travel across the skin of your forearm, stroking it up and down as he holds your gaze captive. “Ya know, every single fuckin’ time someone’s said your name on the way out ‘ere, all I can think ‘bout is how I wanna feel ya against me again,” he confesses in hushed murmurs. “Been strugglin’ like hell to hold it all together for the sake of tha mission, but it’s only gettin’ worse. I can’t do it tonight.”

You swallow to coat your dry throat as his lustful words nearly choke you. “Simon,” you whisper in a dreamlike stupor. “What are you doing?”

The pads of his fingers glide determinedly across your palm and down to the sensitive tips of your own fingers.“I need ya,” he says through a heavy sigh. “I need ya so fuckin’ bad, luv.”

What’s breathing and how do you do it again? How in the hell are you meant to hold it together and do your job with desperate words like those being spoken to you in such an aching way? Is this all some sort of punishment? If Simon meant to come out here to torture you, then he has succeeded perfectly.

“I need ya however I can get ya; I’ll fuck ya in the goddamn dirt if ya want,” he continues as his touch leaves your hand and moves to tease around the top edge of your belt situated between your vest and your shirt. “Just can’t stay away from ya a fuckin’ second more. Gotta make good on my promise ‘fore it eats me alive.”

Your eyes turn to the front of the safehouse as if expecting someone to come popping out at any moment to interrupt this clandestine meeting. “What about the others?” you question as your attention is turned back to him. “We could get caught. You know our track record.”

“I don’t care,” he says firmly as he leans in until his face is inches from your own. “We’ve fuckin’ waited long enough for this. I need ta be inside ya, sweetheart.”

Being this close with all this moisture coating you both head to toe, blood pressure rising with the agony of his words, skin aching from the proximity of your bodies, it’s too much. You are burrowed into his mind completely now and try as he might to keep sane, your venom is already flowing through his veins. He cannot stand here and simply take it anymore. Those full lips that are so tempting from afar, are unbearable when within range; if you want this to stop you are going to have to be the one to leave because he won’t.

“But if ya don’t wanna do this, you’re gonna have ta walk right back inside that fuckin’ house this second ‘cause I’m not gonna be able to control myself for much longer,” he says, that gravelly voice overflowing with need. “Not with how your lips are callin’ my name.”

The overwhelming tension radiating between your bodies, that steamy, sticky, air that clings to you even through the rain suffocates your every sense until you can’t see straight. The darkness surrounds you like a curtain, concealing you from the world in its protective barrier that is only cut through by the pale moonlight drifting through the clouds to make the rain shimmer like

crystals as it falls.

At the back of the safehouse, there is only you and him. Everything else ceases to exist.

You stare back up into his face, watching as droplets of rain cascade down one by one off the tips of his long eyelashes and the ends of his short, pale hair to fall onto his cheeks and through the dark stubble covering his jawline. The tension is so stifling that it feels like it will suffocate you under the pressure. You don’t want him to remove his fingertips from your frame; he knows just how to embrace your body in a way you have never felt before and you’ve never been more alive than you are under his touch.

With a little hesitation your subconscious makes the choice for you about what to do next and you lower your gaze as the overwhelming need to reach out to him causes you to extend your arm without thinking. Your fingers make contact with his damp clothes and run the lines along his hip bones as they explore the curvature of his body where the wet fabric clings to his form.

A sharp, sudden exhale out of his nose is followed by a deep, bassy groan. Even over his clothes the electricity of your touch sends him into a tailspin. Your movements betray your innermost thoughts to him, but still he needs you to use your words and say it aloud. He watches as your eyes follow the path of your fingers over him and uses the opportunity to take off his gloves and stuff them away in his vest so that he can feel you as he goes in.

Your gaze drifts back up his body to look into his eyes as his balmy, moist palm is placed at the base of the back of your head, his thumb resting against your cheek. “Tell me what ya want,” he says.

Melting into his touch, your lips form the words effortlessly before you can even stop yourself. “Kiss me.”

Oxygen disappears as he leans in so that there is barely any space left between you, his mouth so close you can feel the warmth of his breath make the skin of your lips tingle and suddenly every thought outside of the ecstasy of this moment evaporates. There is no mission, there are no other soldiers here mere feet from you, there are only the two of you in a world of your own. With a few deep, jagged breaths his gaze locks to your lips and you feel him hesitantly go in and pull back before his mouth closes the distance to overtake yours in a fierce kiss.

And your fate is sealed.

The cool precipitation runs down between your faces to make your mouths slick, causing your lips to glide across one another as Simon desperately overpowers your mouth. He is relentless in the way he consumes your kiss; no sooner has he broken the connection to quickly swallow down air then in the next second he is already back in as if he needs to feel you more than he needs to breathe.

Wet strands of hair around your face stick to your cheeks as he presses his features into yours so hard that you can’t catch your breath and the skin around your jaw stings from the abrasion of his stubble. Yet all that moisture is doing nothing to dampen the way you are burning for him; you need to see what happens if given the chance to go all the way.

“Say ya need me too,” he groans against your lips and into your open mouth. “I have ta hear it. Say ya need me ta fuck ya good, that you’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout me all this time. Goddammit, say it.”

“I need you so fucking bad, Simon,” you whimper. “So bad it hurts. I can’t take it anymore.”

Your desperate words make him ache with an overwhelming ferocity that causes him to lose control. He shoves your back into the wall behind you and pins you to it as he bombards your mouth with his unrelenting passion, open-mouthed kisses overtaking your lips until you can feel them swell and burn from the pressure.

“Christ, I wanna make ya come so fuckin’ bad,” he growls.

“Please,” you beg, giving into him completely. “I can’t wait. Not again.”

You’re right, no waiting, not this time; he is not giving anything or anyone the chance to ruin this. The beast of his desire has him in a chokehold so agonizing that it will not let him go until he gets exactly what he needs, what you both need, until he completely loses himself in you. Some place hidden is what he desperately has to find now.

The shed is only a few yards away and his kiss-drunk mind makes the instant decision that it will have to do. At least you will have some privacy out of the rain; that is enough. As long as he gets inside you that is all he can ask for.

“Come on,” Simon is able to get out as he grabs your hand tightly in his grip and starts to walk in long strides straight for the tiny shack just off the main house. You reach it in no time and he doesn’t stop as he flings open the door and pulls you inside behind him, leaving you to stand in the middle of the small space as he scrambles to block the door; there isn’t a chance in hell anyone is going to get to you both now.

Not until he has had his way with you.

It physically pains him to be away from your lips for this long as he makes sure everything is secure, but it’s gotta be done. Once satisfied and not wanting to waste any more time away from your body, he moves right back into you and his mouth is crashing onto yours before you can blink. Its inherent, primal, a reaction as innate as breathing the way his lips know the exact way to embrace yours in that dance of back and forth as if you’ve done it for years.

To think he would have never gotten the chance to experience them had it not been for Mactavish’s idiotic game. Fuck, how could something so inconsequential lead to something so explosive that it is the only thing he craves above anything else?

Those determined hands of his paw blindly between your bodies, searching for the tabs at the sides of your tactical vest so that he can pull them to release it; there are more layers he has to get through this time. He breaks away from you so that he can flip the front of your vest over your head and throw it off your torso. Before it even hits the wooden floorboards he is hurriedly doing the same to himself, taking his shirt with it, before capturing your lips all over again; he will not stay away if he can help it and those pauses as he undresses you will be filled with him devouring your kiss.

His fingers fill themselves with your shirt, clawing at it desperately trying to rip the wet fabric from your form without a care if he tears it to fucking shreds. The rough calluses on his hands create delicious friction along all that soft skin of your stomach as he goes up and under to rip both it and your bra off your head, making you gasp mutedly into his mouth.

Pausing he can’t help staring at all this new, warm skin at his disposal. The nipples on your breasts are already hardening as they hit the cool atmosphere outside your clothes and he runs a greedy finger over the tiny rosebuds to feel them stiffen more from his touch. You are absolute in your perfection, a sight of sinfully decadent flesh that his mouth wants to get a hold of.

Strong arms wrap around your lower back to keep you locked to him as he bends his head down until his face reaches your breasts and he can bury himself against them so his lips can suck your nipple into his mouth. The moment his lips touch skin you arch your back with a shocked moan at how the suction sends waves of euphoria flooding through your limbs that only builds the longer he sucks.

“Don’t stop,” you plead.

Under his touch it feels just like heaven; there cannot be anything better than this.

“Not this time, not till I fuckin’ make ya come,” he reassures in a husky, muted growl with his mouth full of you before he switches to the other breast, leaving neither out of their overdue pleasure. “You’re mine tonight. Ya hear me: mine.”

The stubble on his chin pricks against the delicate skin of your breasts as he devours them, taking as much of the tissue into his mouth as he can hold as his tongue skillfully strokes around the areolas. All those contradicting sensations only add to the stimulation until your hips grind into him for the friction to relieve the pulsing in your clit.

Heavy rain pelts down against the roof over your heads to drown out the sounds of your arousal; he needs to experience them all and so he has to get you closer. There are things he wants to say, dirty things he has fantasized about growling into your ear since that night when this whole fucking thing started and as his fingers itch to play with your pussy, he knows the way to make it all happen exactly as he wants.

Pulling his mouth from your chest, he moves from against you to situate himself sitting on the ground. Quickly he grabs onto your hips to spin you around so that he can promptly pull you down to sit in the middle of his lap. That throbbing bulge barely being contained by his pants is straining even harder now that there is pressure over it and you can feel it pulse into the muscle of your ass as your back molds into the contours of his broad chest and sparsely hair-covered abdomen.

You lean your head back against his shoulder as you enjoy the feeling of being wrapped up in him and he takes that as an invitation to lay more of his claim to your skin. All that gorgeous flesh of your neck is ready to be sucked and bitten till he has branded it with his mark. Taking your chin in his hand, he moves your head out of the way and immediately pounces on it.

“Goddammit sweetheart, I’ve been in fuckin’ hell since even before we got ‘ere,” he murmurs in anguish into your throat, his heat-filled words warming your skin as his breath drifts down your exposed chest. “Thought I was gonna rip myself apart bein’ forced to only look and not touch. I’ve never wanted to feel someone more in my whole goddamn life than I do ya.”

His hands slip down your chest, drawing goosebumps from your bare body everywhere his fingertips grace until your mind is so numb you can’t feel your limbs; your body only exists in the places where he decides to touch. The poetry of his fingers leaves all those unspoken desires he has yet to fully acknowledge across your skin, searing the flesh until it is branded for him and him alone. His roughness makes you whimper open-mouthed into the air. Down the sides of your waist his hands travel, over your hips to cross in front of your belly button and finally his hand reaches your pants.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout your body in the worst fuckin’ ways,” he says with a growl. “You’ve been in my goddamn head since that first kiss. Never thought I could crave somethin’ so fuckin’ bad that I can’t let it go and I want to make ya to feel the same. I want ya so out of your fuckin’ mind from me that ya can’t function.”

Undoing the belt buckle and button, he pulls down the zipper of your pants with feverish speed until he creates an opening that he can slip his hand into. Once inside he keeps going all the way down to the elastic that he has to fiddle with to get inside your panties. You let your knees fall open to give him more access as he finally reaches that sensitive mound between your thighs. He can feel just how warm you are, the damp heat radiating off your cunt and into his palm as he cups his hand up against your sex.

Your back jolts into his chest at the intense pressure. “Fuck,” he gasps into the crook of your neck. “There ya are, pretty girl. Goddammit, your pussy feels so fuckin’ good.”

His chest is tightening with his rapid breathing as he takes his middle finger to heavily drag over the slit of your cunt until he pushes through and it slips in between your silky petals right to your core. Again your body jolts into him as those thick fingers rub through the sensitive slit and then up so he can find what he is searching for: that small bundle he wants to stroke until you are dripping and grinding on his fingers.

He can’t help himself once he gets his first real feel of how slick you are down there; it’s more beautiful than he could have ever imagined and brutishly he draws out concise circles with the pad of his finger on your clit. The heightened tension of this finally being the moment you have waited for, being with the man that has made you a mess without even trying, and the way his fingers work that tiny pleasure center like he owns it only makes the euphoria more intense.

You are drowning in him.

Your body writhes and squirms as his thick finger suddenly collects a friend to join it and they both travel together to your entrance to spread you open so they can slide up inside and stretch you out. Your hips start to roll over his hand in direct response to his stimulation, grinding so he has to keep an arm around your waist to keep you from bucking off his lap, but it is worth it just to feel the way your body moves against him.

“That’s it, ride ‘em, pretty thing,” he groans at the side of your head. You could almost hear it in his voice how much he is enjoying the sounds of you falling apart because of him.

That deep, permeating warmth gathering in your abdomen begins to spread throughout your entire form, its mind-numbing effects making it hard to speak, yet it isn’t enough. His fingers have taken you almost all the way, but you need him, need his cock filling you up and you need it now.

“Simon, fuck… please put it in,” you say breathlessly. “I want you in me. Now. God, I need it so fucking bad.”

Fucking hell, the desperate whine in your voice is enough to make him come. The moment is here and there is no chance that he is going to be able to do anything other than immediately grant your request after all the pining, all the tension you’ve had to struggle through. All of it comes to a head here and now.

“I’ve been fuckin’ dreamin’ of doin’ this,” he says as he helps you slip out of your boots and pants so that you sit there naked as you wait for him to do the same. “If we would’ve been alone in the rec that night… goddammit, your pussy would already know the way my cock feels, sweetheart.”

As soon as he’s done he pulls you back, turns you to face him, and helps you up onto your knees so you can straddle over his lap. Even through the haze of ecstasy, your sight catches the first glimpse of his body and you can’t stop the way your hands immediately splay over the sparse bit of hair covering his broad chest and stocky abdomen, trailing down towards his V line. Then you see it, what’s been prodding against you all this time; fuck, he’s big.

As your fingers run between the pectorals on his stomach, you can feel the moment his breath hitches. You will be the death of him and him you.

Your eyes meet again and he secures his hands around the curves of your hips. Here it is, the moment of no return. Time seems to stand still as you feel him position the fat tip of his cock at your entrance.

“Breathe for me,” he says and with that he slowly shoves your hips down until the head is able to slip inside.

The girth of his phallus stretches you out as it fills you and the world falls away into nothingness as you cry out with the pleasure of his body as he keeps pressing down on your hips until the entirety of him rests inside you. It is overwhelming, the sensation that takes a hold of your soul and doesn’t let go, the one of finally having him. Try as you might to not let this get out of hand, you know it is already too late. Nothing, absolutely nothing in this whole fucking world can ever compare to the way your body feels wrapped around his cock: the glorious stretch, the fullness, the throbing that you can feel pulse inside you.

And from the sounds Simon is now making, you know he feels the same.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck,” that deep agonized whimper echoes through the shed as Simon’s hands bear down hard into your hips so he can keep you still until he can steady himself. His head falls against your forehead where it rests. “…s-shit…so fuckin’ good, luv.”

As he moves your body slowly up and down over his lap, making you bounce on his cock, he realizes that he will not be the same after this. Christ, you are the worst type of addiction; no matter how much he gets he only wants more. Simon is inside of you and yet even that isn’t enough. He wants to fuck you to the point of ruin, so that you will be his and only his from this day forward because there is no coming out of this unscathed.

Even within the first few minutes of being inside you he is already pussy drunk off how beautifully your walls contour to his shape, holding him fixed in all that warmth and wetness, and that leaves him unable to take things slow. Without warning Simon tilts you both back slightly so that he can take over and fuck you even rougher now.

His fingers grip into the muscles of your hips hard enough to leave purple fingerprints as he pounds up into you furiously. Your body shakes with each snap of his hips as he slams into you with a feral roughness that his brain forces on him as he can only think of one objective: for you both to come.

“Look at me,” he demands through ragged breaths as he grabs at your face with those large hands; he’s falling apart so fast now, “keep those pretty eyes on me. I need… shit…I need ta see what they look like the moment ya come. My fuckin’ pretty girl.”

The rain that had coated your bodies moments before almost turns into steam as the passion of his movements fill the air with so much heat. You are completely at his mercy, his hulking size overwhelming you so that he can do with you as he pleases, but the way he thrusts deeper and deeper only draws you closer to that razor’s edge; it’s approaching fast.

“Fuck, don’t stop Simon, please, I’m so close,” you plead through your panting, your toes curling into the floor as the stimulation makes your brain blank. It’s there, right there; just a bit more and you will fall over the precipice.

He pumps with everything in him and that is it; with a shudder your orgasm rockets through you fiery hot, making your body writhe in his grasp as you cry out and a loud clap of thunder rings through the heavens to drown out the sound. You try to fall against him, but he won’t let you. That firm grip keeps your head up so that his eyes can take in everything about the moment as it crosses your face and fuck is it beautiful.

God, it won’t stop, second after second your orgasm just keeps pulsing with relentless intensity and Simon isn’t letting up. He can’t, he’s so fucking close he can taste it. Shit, the way your engorged walls are fluttering something fierce he just needs a little more friction and he’ll come too.

Bringing your face in he takes your mouth with all the roughness he has left as he allows himself to let go and with a few more thrusts, that is it. At the last second he rips his cock out of you and nestles it between your bodies as he milks out all that warm cum along your stomach, coating you with all that pent up tension he has been holding on to all this time. His abdominal muscles contract hard, heart pounding out of his chest, body writhing as a shiver runs up his spine until his movements finally slow and he stops, completely spent.

Rain slacks off as you both just sit there a moment, panting to catch your breath as he holds you securely wrapped in his arms, face still close as if he only ever wants to breathe the same air you breathe, his nose nuzzling against yours as his lips fight to stay off of you long enough that you can both settle. It takes a few minutes, but finally he can feel his limbs again.

Just then the alarm on your watch begins its high-pitched beeping to signal that your relief is meant to take your place on guard duty. You laugh under your breath as it seems it’s now your opportunity to say those fucking words that seem to be the signal of the end of your time together.

“Times up,” you say quietly, but he just shakes his head.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart,” he replies firmly as his arms tighten around your form, “not yet. You’re still mine for now, I’ll deal with tha rest ‘a the shit later. I’m not lettin’ ya leave me.”

There’s no way you are going to fight him on it; you want to stay here with him a little while longer as well. Leaning in, you rest your head against his chest to listen to the beat of his heart as it continues to slow with each deep breath. As he sits there bundled up with you in that glowing euphoria as you both come down from the high, he knows this is only the beginning of something that he cannot stop.

And maybe for the first time in his life, he doesn’t want it to.

Tagging: @kirewinter @spooky-pomegranate @heliumshorns @mudisgranapat @konigs-left-pec @dragonstoneshortcake @cum-tea-and-towels @scaleniusrm @cod-z @shadowydestinylover

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gurugirl · 4 months

Text

3. The Unicorn | nanny!yn

Unicorn: An individual who is willing to join an existing romantic relationship. Usually a bisexual female.

Summary: The aftermath of that fateful night has lots of consequences. Not all of them are bad.

A/N: This is the final part! Based on this and this.

Word Count: 11.7k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, angst, mentions of divorce

The Unicorn Masterlist

You had to admit. The ensuite bathroom was really nice. But you couldn’t imagine enjoying the soaker tub with jets and soft fluffy towels as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You took off your little pearl choker as tears continued to fall down your cheeks and you removed your sweater and skirt. It all felt so pointless. You had wasted so much time fretting over your outfit and matching it to your pearl choker and your pretty panties all for everything to just blow up completely. Now your favorite pink pearl choker was tainted and you’d probably never want to wear it again.

You should have said no to the proposition. You knew you should have listened to your gut. It was going to blow up and someone was going to get hurt.

Your night shorts and matching top were soft on your skin but you hated it because you’d also chosen this set with the thought that both Kit and Harry might see it. But you’d be sure they never did.

Setting your alarm for 5:00 am you climbed into the luxurious bed and rolled to your side hoping you could get some sleep so you could turn your brain off as you replayed every moment in your head over and over again.

. . .

“I don’t want to talk about it right now, Harry,” Kit insisted.

“She can’t hear us in here, love. Come on. Let’s work something out. Things didn’t go like we thought… right? We don’t need to do it again.”

“I just… I need some space, H. That was a lot. I guess I didn’t expect it to feel that way. I can’t talk about it right now, though. I need to sleep on it. Away from you. I know I’ll feel better in the morning.”

Harry nodded and grabbed his wife’s hand, “I love you, Kitty. You know that right? I love you so much. You are the most important person to me in the world.”

Kit attempted a weak smile as she pulled her hand away and tucked herself into the blankets, “Can you turn the light off when you leave the room?”

. . .

Harry had been unable to sleep at all. The couch wasn’t a great spot to sleep but more than that, he was feeling guilty and trying to figure out how to fix the problem. He didn’t want you to feel bad, you hadn’t done anything wrong. But he did need to support his wife first and foremost. He’d need to insist she apologize and put it behind her but he didn’t want his wife to feel like he was taking your side either. Even though, in a way, he kind of was. You were the innocent party in all this. He’d gotten carried away. You both just clicked. The chemistry between you was impenetrable. So much so that he nearly forgot about his wife being there and said some things he didn’t really mean.

When he heard light footfalls coming down the stairs and then saw the outline of your frame as you rushed toward the door he shot up from the couch and hurried toward you, “Y/n?”

You closed your eyes and stopped in your tracks. You hoped he was asleep and that you could leave without him knowing.

He put his hands on your shoulders as he stood behind you and spoke quietly, “Are you okay to drive?” He knew he wasn’t going to be able to talk you into staying. Though in his mind, the best-case scenario was that the three of you could sit and talk and move on from the disaster of what had happened the night before. Maybe over coffee and waffles. He knew that was unlikely but he had hoped.

“I’m fine now. I just want to get out of here. I feel awful,” you turned yourself to look up at him in the dark.

“You don’t need to feel bad, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. I need you to understand that.”

“I just need to go. You’ve been so nice to me. Thank you, Harry. For everything. Tell Kit how awful I feel and that I’m so sorry and never meant to hurt her.”

Harry frowned, “Don’t worry. Kit will feel better when she wakes up. I’ll talk to her. But you don’t owe anyone an apology.”

He put his arms around you and held you against his chest in a sweet hug. You could feel the thud of his heart under his pecs and inhaled his scent. You’d miss him. You’d miss Kit too. You’d especially miss William and Warner.

. . .

When you didn’t show up on Monday morning at the Styles’ house both Kit and Harry knew what was going on.

Kit had planned on apologizing to you for her behavior in person. She’d even planned to go to work a bit late that morning so all three of you could try and work it out. She was still feeling a bit betrayed by Harry and having a hard time unseeing and hearing what she had, but she knew her conduct had been out of line. She was acting on pure emotion and the wine exasperated her reaction. But that was no excuse.

“I can work from home today,” Harry said.

Kit shook her head, “I feel awful. I hurt her feelings. I was such a bitch to her and she didn’t deserve it. Maybe I should text her. Or go to her apartment and apologize to her face-to-face? What do you think? The least I can do is apologize for how I treated her.”

Harry pursed his lips, “Let me text her. See if she’ll come over later when you get home. I’ll tell her we’d like to talk and that you want to apologize.”

Sighing, Kit closed her eyes, “Don’t text her. I will. This is something I need to fix.”

He decided he’d let his wife figure out how she needed to approach the issue but he was worried it was too late. He was worried he’d never see you again and that would be it. You were totally justified in ghosting them both. Plus the semester would be starting up again for you in a couple of weeks and the boys would be back in school during the day so it felt futile to beg for you to come back.

And that’s exactly what you thought too. You were about to head into the new fall semester to start on your master’s degree and the boys were going back to school. You had hoped you’d still be able to watch the twins when Harry and Kit wanted a weekend away or a night off for a few extra bucks during the school year but there was absolutely no way you’d be able to face either Kit or Harry again.

You were sure Kit hated you with every fiber of her being. Which kind of made you angry the more you sat with what had happened. As sad as you were and as bad as you felt, you knew Harry was right. Nothing that happened was actually your fault.

Distracting yourself from what had happened Saturday night had been difficult because it was all so fresh. You knew with some time you’d get over it and move on but you were sure there would be some damage there. Netflix, long walks, lots of sleep, and pints of ice cream seemed to help a little.

But still, the moment that you couldn’t erase from your memory was when you were on their bed as Harry had just finished himself on your back and Kit yelled at him to make you leave all while you were still naked and floaty. Humiliating. But more than that, you started to realize, that what Kit did was uncalled for and mean. She had been mean to you and that made you angry.

So you were surprised when you saw a text from her on Monday afternoon. With an apology.

I hope you’re doing okay. I just wanted to reach out and tell you how sorry I am for how I acted Saturday night. I had hoped to talk to you this morning about it so I could do this in person, and I would still like to apologize to you in person if you’d let me. I understand if you’re not comfortable with it but if you are, I’ll be at Davanti’s on Fresno Street at 3:30 pm. I’ll be alone and plan to stay for an hour.

It was 2 pm. You needed to decide if you wanted to hear her out or just move on. Could you look at her again? Would you simply break down and cry the moment you saw her? Maybe it would be better if you requested Harry to be there? Or perhaps you should just ignore her and be done with it.

But you figured opting for closure would be better in the end. For you and probably for Kit as well.

I’ll be there.

You found a spot to park on the street a few blocks away so you could get some fresh air and stretch your legs before going inside. And also just in case you suddenly decided you didn’t want to go through with it, you could turn around and leave without having Kit seeing you.

But you didn’t change your mind and when you walked into the restaurant you saw Kit sitting at a booth looking down at her phone with a glass of wine in front of her.

You slid in across from her and she startled slightly before placing her phone face down, “Y/n! You came. Thank you.” She smiled. She looked hopeful and sweet.

Nodding you smiled back, “Of course.”

Kit looked at your hands and then out into the restaurant before back to you, “Would you like anything to drink or eat? It’s on me if you want–“

“No. That’s fine. I’ll just have a water when the server comes by. Not really hungry.”

She sat for a moment and blinked her eyes as she looked at you softly, “I am so sorry, Y/n. I know me just saying that can’t erase what I did. I wasn’t prepared to see him like that with anyone and I took it out on you. I’ll never forgive myself for the way I acted.”

You nodded and looked down at the table. You figured she would eventually forgive herself. Because that’s why she was there wanting to apologize to you in person. She wanted to feel better about what had happened and this was her way of doing that. So, while she would forgive herself eventually, despite saying she wouldn’t, you would never forget what happened to you that night. How she treated you, demeaned you. How it made you feel disgusted with yourself and Harry and her all at once. The horror you felt when the worst possible outcome happened.

“Can you ever forgive me?” She finally said which made you look up at her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. I’m not really sure how I even feel right now about it. I still need time to negotiate all of this in my head first.”

Kit spread her fingers out on the table and looked down at her hand, “I understand that. I don’t deserve to be forgiven,” she sighed and looked back at you, “I wanted to try something new with Harry. I’ve been so… just trying to figure out how to make myself feel that thing I used to feel for him, ya know?” She laughed and shook her head, “He’s just so… male. I mean he’s sweet and gentle and attractive but in bed, he wants something I can’t give him, and vice versa. And now that the twins are older we get more privacy and can get back into being a little more explorative, and it’s made me really miss how things were when I was single and dating women. I know that sounds awful,” she bit the inside of her cheek, “But I’ve just been reaching for something that I’m never going to be able to have with Harry alone. But turns out,” she laughed, “funnily enough, that I don’t like him with anyone else or feeling that passion with someone else that I wanted to feel. I wanted to feel that with you. But that’s selfish of me. I’m all messed up right now,” she stitched her brows together and you could see how glassy her eyes were, “I’m sorry to dump that on you. That’s not fair to you.”

You nodded. You didn’t know what to say in response. She shouldn’t have told you any of that. That was true. And now you just felt bad for Harry that his wife was seeking something to fill in where she thought he lacked. But all you could think was that he was everything anyone would ever want and yet Kit didn’t even see that somehow.

“I wanted to also give you this. From the boys.” She handed you a small homemade booklet with drawings on it from both William and Warren. You flipped through the pages of marker and pen, drawings and stories written to go with each drawing.

You looked up at Kit with appreciation, “Thank you for this. Tell them I love it. I’ll read it every day.” You hadn’t wanted to cry. Hadn’t wanted to show Kit how sensitive and soft you were. She’d already watched you cry that night and now here you were with tears in your eyes again that you simply could not hold back.

“If you ever want to stop by and say hi to them you could. Or even just send me or Harry a text to tell them hi. They love you so much, Y/n. You’re so good with them. And I wanted to…” she paused as she looked at you with a sudden weight that hadn’t been there just before, “If anything ever, um…” she wavered her gaze from your face to the area behind your head and back, “Never mind. Just know how much both Harry and I trust you and would love for you to still come around to see them if you ever wanted.”

. . .

When you returned to university things started to feel better. You still got caught with feelings of dread and were reminded of the way you felt that night. Of course, Kit had apologized and that was really all you could ask for after it had all been said and done. But it didn’t stop you from zoning out in the shower with thoughts of putting your pink pearl choker on before you went to their home that night. The giddiness you felt beforehand that was torn away from you so viciously only hours later. Now you couldn’t even look at the necklace. It was tucked away in its soft velvet bag in your panties drawer.

And you couldn’t stop thinking of Harry either. You missed him a lot too. But that feeling was mixed with a confusing heartsickness. It wasn’t that you were in love with him or anything. But you had crushed on him for a while and got to experience him in bed and that was. You couldn’t describe it because you tried not to think about it too much. The more you dwelled on the way he handled you and looked at you, the way he spoke to you… it gave you shivers and the unfortunate thing was that you’d never have the pleasure to know that again.

But again, you weren’t in love or anything close to it. It was just a sense of loss more than anything.

After your first month back at school was down you were invited out to a local bar with some of your classmates and friends. Something fun for everyone to let loose a little. And god did you deserve to blow off a little steam.

You would have preferred a club with some awful dancing and too much liquor, to be honest, but darts in a dark bar with pitchers of beer and friends sounded quite nice too.

Jax bought the first pitcher as the rest of you claimed a nice table close to the dart boards at the back of the bar. It was a Friday night so the place got packed not long after you’d arrived.

You lost badly at the first game which meant the next pitcher of beer was on you. You frowned exaggeratedly at the rule that the loser buys the beer, but the truth was that you were feeling amazing. It was nice to not be sitting at home thinking about things that you shouldn’t be. The distraction was welcome. Being out with friends was refreshing.

Waving at the bartender you placed the empty pitcher down and dug into your front pocket for some cash to pay your turn. But a sudden feeling came over you. Like you were being watched. Or noticed at least. You casually looked to your right and then to your left but you saw no one looking at you. And no one looked familiar.

“Another pitcher of beer?” The bartender asked, bringing your attention back to him.

“Oh! Yes, please.”

With that strange feeling crawling its way up your spine you turned slowly and looked back at your friends and then across the bar to the table next to the window.

You jolted and felt your scalp prick and fingertips sizzle when you made eye contact with him. Harry. He was seated at a high-top table. He appeared to be alone.

He lifted a hand in greeting before bringing it back down to grasp his pint and looked out the window.

You hadn’t even become unfrozen from the shock of seeing him by the time the bartender was back with your pitcher. You settled up with him and looked to where Harry was seated. He didn’t look back at you. You wondered how long he’d been there. Had he seen you before you walked up to the bar?

“Hey, here’s the pitcher,” you placed it at the center of the table. “I’m gonna sit this game out. Someone I know is here and I’m gonna go say hi.”

After refilling your glass you hesitantly made your way to Harry. The least you could do was say hi. You had wondered about him all this time and had been tempted to text him a time or two but never felt it was right.

“Hi.” You stood next to his table, at a safe distance in case he wasn’t interested in talking.

He pulled his gaze away from whatever he was looking at outside to you, “Hi, Y/n.”

“I was, uh, surprised to see you. I don’t want to bother you. I just–“

“Sit if you want,” he gestured at the other stool. So obviously you did, placing your glass on the table and keeping your eyes on him.

Harry took a sip of his beer and his eyes were as deep and full of warmth as ever.

“How have you been?” You asked. You didn’t really know what to say to him. Which was silly when you thought about it.

“Things are complicated at home. But I’m okay. How are you?”

You shrugged as you took a drink from your glass, “Good. School’s been good. Here for a night without worrying about homework and quizzes. Just needed a night out with some friends.”

He nodded and leaned forward, resting his forearms onto the lacquered wooden tabletop, caging in his beer, “I’ve wanted to text you to see how you were doing but figured you wouldn’t want to hear from me again after what happened.”

You pinched your brows together and shook your head, “That’s not… I wish you would have. I wanted to text you a few times too. Just to check-in. I’ve missed you guys.”

“The boys really miss you. They talk about you still. I mean…” he rotated his arm so his palm was face up in a passive gesture, “it hasn’t been that long since– well, anyway.”

You smiled, “I miss them a lot. Hey, did Warner ever finish learning that song on the piano you were teaching him? He was doing so well learning the parts. I kind of hoped to hear him complete it but then…” you didn’t dare finish that sentence.

Harry grinned. It was the first genuine smile you’d seen from him since you approached him.

“Yeah. He’s pretty much got it down now. I’m really proud of him. He’s gonna be starting guitar and singing lessons soon. He wants to learn so he can start a band with some friends so I encouraged him to take lessons.”

“Takes after his father. Musically talented.” You gleamed at Harry.

Harry gulped the lump down his throat. He had really missed you around. But he’d been quite caught up in the aftermath of that night with Kit ever since. That night had changed everything.

“Ahh, I just dabble. Warner has real natural talent.”

You couldn’t be sure but you thought the apples of his cheeks were turning a shade pinker than they had been.

“I’ve heard you play the piano and sing. I’d say you have plenty of natural talent, Harry.”

You meant it too. He had a beautiful voice full of dark timbre and vibrant airy notes. And of course, he was so confident when he sang that if he had told you he made an album and played for audiences in sold-out venues you would have believed it.

“That’s nice to hear. Thank you, Y/n,” you watched a dimple slowly work its way deeper into his cheek as his smile widened. It was nice to see him smile.

You both sat quietly for a bit looking out the window at the dark street as cars drove by, headlamps beaming over the dark asphalt. You wondered if you should press him more about how he really was. You could tell something was off. He wasn’t as happy as he normally was. And when he told you things were complicated at home you figured it had something to do with Kit.

“We’re getting divorced,” he said defeatedly as he stared out the window.

“What? Why?”

Harry took a deep breath and looked at you, “She wants more than I can give her. She needs to be with women, she said. And…” he gulped and looked back out the window, “… she said she couldn’t ever look at me the same after that night. Said I’d never be able to have that with her.”

You kept your brows pinched together as you listened to him. It broke your heart that things had fallen apart for them. That it had all been too much.

“But I thought you two were happy. There was never any indication before that something was wrong.”

He nodded, “I thought so too. But she couldn’t get passed it and she said she’d been thinking about it for a long time. Before we even thought of having you join,” he glanced at you before looking down at his glass, “She’s been needing something else for a while. I never knew. I thought it was enough. I knew she missed women and that kind of softness in bed but I had no idea that it affected her so much. To me, her confession was sudden. But supposedly she’s been keeping it in for a long time.”

Without even thinking you reached out and grabbed his hand, “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

Harry looked down at your small hand covering his and up to your eyes, “She said that when she apologized to you she felt free to finally be herself. I was blindsided. Then last week she told me she was going to go on a date with a woman she’s known for years. Ripped me right half. She was gone all night. But I mean, our marriage is over anyway.”

You gently smoothed your thumb over his knuckles and kept your eyes on his face.

“So I offered her a divorce and told her I can’t tolerate her dating someone if I’m not involved somehow. She understood that. She told me she hoped I would find someone,” he paused as he sighed to collect his words so they didn’t come out as a surprise to you, “…with whom I could have the kind of chemistry she saw that night between us.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Or if you should. You were well aware of the way you and Harry connected and how natural everything felt with him. But at the same time, you never thought it was much more than just good chemistry. You couldn’t allow yourself to think of it as more than that.

“Anyway, she’s at home with the boys and I needed to get out and breathe. Figured I’d have a beer or two and then go back home. Sleep in the guest room like I have been. We’re still trying to figure out how to tell the kids.”

You nodded softly, “That’s awful, Harry. I don’t know what to say except I’m so sorry.”

Harry breathed out a laugh through his nostrils and shook his head, “You don’t need to pity me. I’m sad but I’ll be okay. It’s better anyway, I think in the end. She wasn’t fulfilled and part of me knows I wasn’t either. We could have made it work but I don’t think she’d have been happy for much longer. It was only a matter of time I suppose.”

“Y/n! Next game’s about to start. You wanna join?” Arla suddenly interrupted.

You turned to look at her and back to Harry, “This is Harry, and Harry, this is my friend Arla. She and I have two classes together.”

Harry smiled at your friend and looked at you, “I’m just about to finish up. You go and enjoy your night off with your friends.”

You didn’t want to part ways with Harry yet. It felt like you needed to sit with him longer. So you turned to Arla, “I’m gonna pass. But you guys go ahead!”

“Are you sure?” She looked from you to Harry and back to you again.

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

When she walked off Harry grabbed your hand, “You don’t have to pity me I said. I’m okay, really. I know this has to be boring for you to sit here listening to me whine about my life. You should go.”

Shaking your head you frowned, “I didn’t want to go, Harry. Thought maybe if you’re leaving anyway I could walk you out. Hug you goodbye. I don’t know when I’ll ever see you again. Or if I see you again…”

Harry tilted his head and nodded, “Okay. Deal. I’ll settle up and be right back.”

You watched Harry make his way to the bar and get his credit card back from the bartender. He was achingly attractive, even doing absolutely nothing, he was the most attractive man you’d ever laid eyes on. And far and away the kindest.

When he returned you stood from the stool and he gestured for you to lead the way to the door. The night air was warm as you turned to look up at Harry.

“I’m parked just up the street,” he jutted his chin in the direction of his car, “It was really nice to see you–“

“I’ll walk with you to your car,” you rushed the words out. You weren’t ready for him to leave. You were certain you’d never see him again and that thought was scarier than insisting you walk him to his car. Maybe just being near him for a few extra moments would make you feel better.

Silently you both walked side by side down the sidewalk toward his car. And when you got to his spot he smiled down at you, “Did you drive here?”

You shook your head, “Shared an Uber with two of my friends.”

He nodded, “Well, Y/n…” he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your shoulders and you pulled your arms around his middle and smushed your face against his chest. He squeezed you tight and you squeezed back.

You felt his breath at your temple, “God I’m gonna miss you.”

You tilted your head back to look up at him, “I’m gonna miss you too, Harry.”

The streetlamp that cast the smallest bit of light from across the street flickered off and then sputtered back on again as you kept your eyes locked with Harry’s. You’d miss his eyes and his cologne and how nice he was to you. It felt wrong to simply let him leave.

“Y/n…” Harry spoke softly as he brought a hand up to your face, his fingers slid behind your ear and his thumb caressed your cheekbone, “Can I have one more kiss? If it’s okay?”

Nodding your head you felt his hand pull your face closer to his. He pressed his nose against yours as you fluttered your eyes shut and then felt his lips gently move over yours.

And something inside of you felt like it’d been unlocked as you opened your mouth and let him slip his tongue inside, to which you pressed yours against his and heard him moan.

You gripped his shirt tight and felt him push your back into his car as he caged you in with his arms and his hips pressed against yours. It had all happened so fast but your head was spinning and you both were lost in each other with a hungry kiss and wet lips.

He moved his hand to your neck and wrapped his palm around the front of your throat, keeping his lips attached to yours before he parted with a soft gasp, “Want to hear you say it just one more time f’me, sweet girl. What do you call me?”

You closed your eyes and felt the tips of his fingers squeezing gently at the side of your neck. You knew exactly what he was asking.

“Daddy,” you breathed before you felt his warm lips slot between yours again. He moaned deeply and you clung to his back in hopes of him staying. You didn’t want this to be it.

When you shifted your hips he lowered a hand to your thigh and pulled it upward, tucking himself in closer.

It turned out, that one more kiss wasn’t just any old kiss. Wasn’t just something you could pull away from once his lips smeared against yours, once his tongue lapped against your tongue. You held him tight through his shirt and he kept your thigh hitched over his hip and his hand at your neck as his mouth moved with yours under the flickering streetlamp.

When he pulled back and looked down at you, you tightened your fingers around his shirt, “Do you want to come over? To my place?” You couldn’t let the moment getaway. Couldn’t let Harry just leave like that. You also couldn’t believe you’d asked him over. But it was that or watch him drive away and never see him again.

Harry pulled his hand off your neck and softly tucked his fingers to the back of your head, “Really?”

You nodded and raised your brows, suddenly feeling the heat of embarrassment, “If you want. I mean you don’t–“

Your words were swallowed by Harry’s mouth over yours again. Soft lips and wet tongue making you ache and filling you with just enough gall to ask for what you’d wanted. And that was to have him in your apartment. Alone. You just wanted a little bit more. Before it was all over and forgotten and in the past. Before the moment was just something you’d look back on in the future with a tinge of sadness but with a smile on your face.

Harry opened his passenger side door for you to get inside and you texted Jax quickly explaining your sudden absence with an apology. You could explain to your friends later.

You felt Harry scoop your hand into his as he started his car and pulled out into the street. The song on the radio had just come to an end and a commercial began to play, “You’ll have to remind me of your address,” Harry glanced at you before looking back at the street.

“Oh! Yeah! Of course. Um… Just take this street to Caldwell and take a right and then we’ll go to the bridge and merge onto the highway but you’ll only be on for one exit and then the first right off the access road. Then it’s like two miles and the apartments are on the left.”

Harry laughed, “Maybe you can tell me as we approach where I need to turn. I’m a little wound up right now. Might not remember all that,” he grinned.

You were feeling your nerves begin to bubble with each mile closer to your apartment. But Harry was trying to keep you calm, you could tell.

“So, you told me once you don’t have roommates. Is that still the case?”

You nodded and looked at his handsome side profile, “Yeah. No roommates. It’s only a one bedroom. My uncle is the apartment manager and so I get rent super cheap otherwise I wouldn’t be able to have a place on my own.” “That’s nice. Looking forward to seeing it.”

Biting your lip you looked out the window and felt a pinch of anxiety. You knew what was probably about to happen and you’d welcome it! But then after that what? Would he stick around? Would you see him again? Would Kit be mad?

“What are your plans for tomorrow, Y/n?”

You released your bottom lip from your teeth, “I have a paper due on Monday so I planned on getting my sources and starting the outline. I have it mostly written but now I need to back up what I’m saying and that means I’ll probably wind up needing to rewrite some portions. But that’s my plan for tomorrow and Sunday. Get that finished up. What about you?” You looked back at him as you asked.

“Tomorrow afternoon I’m taking the boys to that Science and Play place. Not sure if you ever heard of it?” He peeked at you quickly.

“I have! I’ve actually been there,” you laughed and Harry softly rubbed his thumb along yours.

“William loves it. He’s been begging to go back. And they have a restaurant there so we’ll make a whole afternoon of it. Let the boys explore. Kit’s going out tomorrow and I don’t want the boys to see her getting all dressed up so I’m going to stay out of the house with them as long as possible.”

You nodded, “That makes sense. I’m sorry, Harry.”

He shook his head, “Don’t be. I’m suddenly not feeling so down about it all right now,” he squeezed your hand as you directed him onto the highway.

You smiled to yourself at his comment and understood what he meant exactly.

After Harry parked in the guest parking spot, you led him to your apartment up a flight of metal stairs to the second floor. You were normally very tidy and neat but you’d been a bit out of sorts since that fateful night and plus getting back into the swing of the new semester meant you had a few things strewn about which all came into view once you turned on the light.

“Sorry about the mess,” you gestured at your couch and the small chair next to it with your clothes draped over the arms.

But Harry didn’t seem to care as he pulled you into his arms and cupped your face, bringing his lips down to yours. You kissed him back with as much heat as he was putting into the kiss. You grasped onto the lats of his back as he moved you with him slowly until he pulled you into his lap on the couch and your fervor only increased.

You ran your fingers into his hair as he kissed his way down your jaw and then to your neck, pecking gently along the front of your throat and back up to your lips, “Loved when you wore that little pearl choker.”

He drew his hands along the outside of your jeans-clad thighs and you pulled away to look at his beautiful face, “I still have it.”

“Mmm… It goes with your innocent act so perfectly,” he grinned, “But I know you’re not innocent, baby. Far from it.”

You could feel his breath against your lips as he spoke and you felt that recognizable hardness under his pants.

“Why don’t you go put that pretty thing on your neck for Daddy and take off everything else?”

You were quick to push yourself off his lap and go into your bedroom. You smiled as you pulled the choker from its velvet bag and happily put it back onto your neck. You thought you’d never want it on again, but if Harry wanted it on, you would absolutely wear it.

You pulled your shirt off and began to unbutton your pants before pushing them down your legs. You hadn’t done much upkeep on yourself other than just shaving around your bikini line to keep it neat, but you knew better than to start rethinking everything now. If you had a bit of a bush so be it. You were mostly certain Harry wouldn’t mind.

When you unhooked your bra Harry was standing in your doorway watching you. His hands slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt as he watched you peel your panties down your legs.

His shirt hung open as he stepped in front of you and cupped your face. His eyes wandered over your breasts and up to your choker before setting them back on your face, “Do you know how hard you make me, Y/n? This little thing on your neck,” he lowered his thumb to the pearls and pressed on it, “…these sexy lips,” he dipped in and kissed you as he lowered both hands to your tits, “…and these gorgeous breasts.”

You smoothed your hands over his warm chest as his mouth covered yours with lazy, sloppy kisses.

“Want you to bend over the bed. Show me that pretty ass. I think you need a little spanking for making Daddy wait a month and a half to see you again.”

You moaned and then swallowed as you turned around and draped your upper half over your unmade bed, baring your full ass to him.

You felt his hands cupping your bottom and smoothing up and down to your thighs as he cooed at you, “God damn, baby. Look at you. So fucking sweet and naughty for me,” the first strike against your bottom came unexpectedly and immediately after he spoke.

He brought his other palm down on your other side and you yelped and turned to look at him over your shoulder.

He lifted his gaze from your bum to your eyes and smirked at you as he smacked you again. You dropped your mouth open and groaned when he did it again and again until you squeezed your eyes closed and stuffed your face into the mattress as he left stinging handprints on your backside.

When you felt him move away you lifted and turned to look at him behind you as he removed his clothes. He watched you with dark eyes, his sight moving from your bum to your face, “On your knees. Face me,” he motioned for you to move.

You brought yourself to your knees and looked up at him, your eyes big and round and sweet. He licked his lips and ran his knuckles over your temple, “Gotta burn this image into my brain. The sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He stroked himself slowly, his cock was already fully thickened and mouthwatering. You looked from his big dick up to his face as he dragged a soft thumb over your lips. He pressed his thumb into your mouth and you opened up for him.

“Keep your mouth open like this,” he pressed down on your tongue, making your jaw widen, “There we go. Need space for me in there. You want Daddy’s cock inside your mouth?”

You nodded and gurgled a yes which made him grin proudly, “I know you do. You like having your face fucked, don’t you? Little naughty girl desperate to choke and make Daddy happy.”

“Yes. Please…” you panted and opened your mouth wider for him.

Harry smeared his cock over your lips. His warm tip dragged against the soft skin of your mouth as you poked your tongue out to dab at his slit.

“Go on then. Suck.” He prodded himself forward a bit and you wrapped your lips around his smooth tip and grasped at this base. Swirling your tongue around the skin under his crown you pushed yourself down on him and pulled back, sucking in and dragging your tongue along the way before edging back down again, trying to get him as deep as possible.

You’d given head before. You had never much enjoyed it. Felt it was more a means to an end sometimes. But with Harry standing over you and cradling the back of your head, his eyes on your mouth as you took him on your tongue you realized you loved giving head. Maybe it was just Harry, though. Maybe you only loved sucking his cock because it was attached to him and you wanted to please him in every way you possibly could.

“Fuck,” Harry moaned breathily as you looked up at him with your puffy lips parted around him, moving up and down, sucking and licking, hollowing your cheeks every time you pulled back to his tip just before pushing him further into your mouth.

When you put a hand on his ball sac and softly rolled it in your palm Harry threw his head back and panted breathily, “Oh my god, baby.”

You continued your work as your eyes became blurred with tears and your chin wet with drool. You stuffed yourself down over him until his tip was poked into your throat and you gagged around him. When you repeated that move, causing you to swallow around him and gag lightly, still gently massaging his balls he pulled you off and lifted you to stand up.

“Enough for now. Think you’ve earned a reward for that.” He gently walked you backward to your bed and then gestured for you to get on just as he climbed on and pulled you over his lap again. Harry laid down, bringing you with him, and kissed you. You could feel his solid, damp cock against your pussy as you kissed him and he groped your bottom, moving you up and down against him slowly, your pussylips pushed apart and dragged over his cock.

Suddenly he pushed at you, making you sit upright, your hands on his pecs as he cupped your tits in his hands, “I want you to ride my face. Get yourself off.”

You laughed and looked at him, “How should I…”

But you let out a small squeak as he pulled at you and dragged you up his chest and over his face, gripping onto your hips and making you settle your pussy over his lips. He began kissing and licking right away, his eyes on you.

“Ohhh…” you placed your hands on the top of the headboard as you looked down and watched Harry under you. It felt so good having him naked in your bed. Having his eyes on you. Having his hands on your ass. His lips on your pussy.

You slowly tilted your hips forward and felt the sparkle of your clit being pressed into his mouth. Harry held you down tight and lapped at you, concentrating on your clit as he sucked on it.

Harry’s fingers dug into your soft bum and you felt as he moved one hand, reaching further back and dipping a finger into your pussy before smearing your arousal up and over your anus. You gasped as you stared down at his eyes. He softly circled the spot as he continued working on your clit with his mouth.

You’d never had anything done to your bottom before, but if Harry wanted to, you’d let him. You were pretty much all yes and please when it came to him anyway. You’d happily let him do what he wanted.

But he never pressed in. He only pushed at your hole and circled over the outside with a wet finger and it had you reeling.

“Daddy, oh my god!”

Harry moved his hand away and put it back on your hips so he could pull you down and move you back and forth over his face. You felt like you were in such a vulnerable position, naked, sitting on his mouth the way you were. There was part of you that worried you were crushing him but he only pulled you against his mouth harder, his brows furrowing as he tried to draw an orgasm out of you.

He moaned against your clit and drew it into his mouth, letting his tongue flick against it. The little wet noises coming from his mouth against you sounded dirty with the backdrop of your loud moaning.

Sometimes you were able to force an orgasm from yourself if you held your vibrator against your clit. Even if you weren’t worked up at all. Just for a quick release.

But you were definitely worked up with Harry. Wet and puffy and the way he was mouthing and pulling at your clit with his lips you couldn’t stop your climax even if you wanted to. It dripped from your cunt all over his mouth as you loudly cried out. Your thighs quivered around his head as you leaned forward and felt wave after wave of your release.

Harry kept his hands tight on you, holding you close so he could make sure you were feeling everything he gave you.

“Fffffuuuu!” You were feeling overwhelmed as he continued sucking you in and holding you down over him. You whined and tried lifting your hips up but he swatted at your ass before gripping your thigh and doubling down on your clit.

“Oooh ssssshhit! Ffuck!” You were trembling uncontrollably as you white-knuckled the headboard and looked down at the scene of the crime. Harry’s head between your thighs with his eyes on yours and his wet nose was lewd.

But then something snapped and the overwhelming feeling started to melt into yet another orgasm that was drawn from you without warning. You cried and whimpered as Harry let go of your thighs and put his hands at your waist to keep you steady. Your whole body trembled as you tried to hold onto the headboard but you were feeling out of your mind and blurry.

When he moved you to your back you were still coming down from the back-to-back orgasms and your brain was trying to fight its way back to the surface of clarity and awareness. Harry lay next to you and kissed your neck, his fingers trailing up your tummy and over your breasts and to your little choker, “You okay, Y/n?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Your chest was still rising and falling heavily as you nodded, “I’m so good.”

You felt Harry’s thigh draped over the tops of yours as he trailed soft kisses up your neck and to your jaw, “You are so good.”

Reaching across your body you placed your fingers in Harry’s hair, “I want you to come, Daddy.”

Harry laughed out a puff of breath against your jaw and lifted his face to look at you, “Oh you do? You’re so sweet, honey,” his voice came out raspy and deep as he kneed his way between your legs, pushing your thighs apart and fitting himself comfortably over you, pulling at your knees to bend them up so your feet were flat.

He smiled down at you, breaking the lusty moment, “You don’t happen to have a condom do you?”

You thought for a moment. You were sure you didn’t, “I don’t really think I do. But,” you gulped and flexed your fingers nervously into the skin of his back, “I’m on birth control, so…”

Harry pursed his lips in pause as he kept his eyes on yours, “Okay,” he dipped down to kiss you, “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. Want to feel you,” you nodded.

You were still so wet between your legs. You could feel Harry’s length easily slide against your pussy as he shifted himself down and pressed the top of his thighs into the back of yours, pushing your legs up slightly.

He placed his forearms down on the bed, caging you in, and pressed his mouth to yours softly. You felt him nudging at your opening so you lifted your hips, pushing against him as his tongue licked at the crease of your lips. The moment you felt his bulbous tip press through the tight muscle of your opening you gasped, dropping your mouth wide open. The feel of him entering you slowly with the weight of his hips against yours had you melting.

“That feels so good, doesn’t it baby?”

You whimpered with a nod, “Yes, Daddy…”

“Fuck I can hear how wet you are for me,” he pulled back and then pressed in. “Gonna make me come so hard, sweet girl.”

The deeper he went in the more you felt your body floating away. There was no question that Harry had a big dick. And you knew he was aware of this as well because he was gentle with you as he inched his way in and pulled back slowly.

When he’d finally poked in as deep as possible and his balls were tucked into your ass he sloppily kissed you as he began to fuck into you with slow and languid strokes. Gushy and hot and unforgiving. Even as slow as he was going every time his head nudged into your cervix you hissed into his mouth. But there was something about the little ache that you loved. Probably because it was Harry.

His pelvis dragged against your clit every time he pushed in and you felt his hand clutch the back of your neck as he licked into your mouth.

Your pussy was so full. So happy. You could feel yourself open and stretch around him. It had your head spinning.

Harry grunted as he lifted himself and softly pressed his nose against yours, “Feel that, baby? Feel Daddy’s cock sliding inside of your tight pussy? You’re gripping me so good.”

His slow rhythmic thrusts grew faster as he let go of the back of your neck and pushed himself up, palms on the mattress. His plunges were deeper and stronger and his thighs and back were flexing as he worked himself in and out, faster little by little.

“Shit! Daddy!” You shakily yelped at the faster cadence and the way he was now punching into your cervix, “It’s so fucking deep,” you gritted your teeth and threw your neck back.

“Is it too deep for your little pussy, honey? Huh?” He rutted his hips in as he asked, punctuating what he meant.

You inhaled sharply when he plunged in again, grinding his hips against yours and stuffing himself into the hilt, “Oh my god, yes! But I need it!”

Harry groaned as kept himself balls deep and sat back onto his haunches, grabbing onto your thighs to keep you in place.

With his hands at the back of your knees, he began to slide into you in long, heavy strokes until he was smacking into you just enough that your tits were bouncing and your bed was creaking in time with his thrusts.

Harry licked his thumb and lowered it to your clit which had you jolting with a small cry. Your clit was super sensitive after the way he’d handled you moments earlier.

He watched his cock move through your hole, your pussy wrapped around him tight and coating him in your cream. He moaned as his thumb was lathered in your arousal from how he was slipping it back and forth over your puffy clit.

Your small grunts and squeaks increased the wetter you got and the harder the mattress bounced under you. The patting of his skin against yours was rhythmic and bumped you upward every time he slammed into you.

You started to see stars, you could swear it as your limbs began to tingle and disintegrate. Harry was grunting and moaning at the view of your pussy wrapped around him tight and the way it felt to be swallowed by you, warm and wet and clenching.

Harry gasped and paused his strokes as he breathed heavily. His chest was red as leaned back over you and kissed you so sweetly it took your breath away. You both moaned in synch as your tongues wound around each other and wet lips slobbered together when he began to drill into you again, slower but with muscle.

You started to quiver with his chest pressed to yours and his cock deep inside of you, his pelvis grinding against yours.

“There you go… let me feel that pussy coming. Oh, baby that feels good doesn’t it,” he rutted into you as he spoke against your lips.

You nearly howled with your third orgasm. It was one thing to come from clitoral stimulation but quite another to have your clit being smeared into while having a big cock nudging in and out of you as you lost control of all functions.

Harry watched your face as you scrunched your brow and chanted Daddy and he drove into you in solid, squelching plunges. His cock made its way over your spongy insides repeatedly, hitting that one spot with his big crown over and over again until you were spent. Done for. There was nothing left for you to give.

Harry kissed you softly, stuffing himself into you gently, and moaned, “M’gonna come baby but I’m gonna pull out okay? Where do you want it sweet girl?”

You peeled your eyes open and exhaled softly, “In my mouth. Let me have it in my mouth, Daddy,” you nodded as you gripped his shoulders.

Harry stopped his motions and looked at you, almost as if in awe as he ticked his head back in forth like he was in disbelief, “Yeah?”

You nodded as he plunged in a few more times, pressing you upward, his eyes on yours as his moaning progressively got softer and you swore whiney even.

He pushed himself up and pulled out, taking his cock in his hand and pumping himself, smoothing your creamy arousal around his shaft and smothering his palm. He took his other hand and pulled you up by your neck and brought your mouth over his cock as he sat back onto his haunches.

You quickly lowered your mouth over him, tasting your juices as you sucked him in and then felt him begin to release down your throat in spurts. He coughed out a loud groan as he rutted upward, his tip slipping down your throat with his hand at the back of your head, “Fuck!” He panted and you felt his thighs shaking as he rolled his hips upward.

You swallowed and gurgled him down the best you could, gripping the base of his shaft in your hand and sucking while swirling your tongue around him until his cock stopped throbbing and pumping and he was softly gasping and breathing.

You licked your way up and popped your mouth off of him but you were in a daze.

Harry smoothed his lips against yours and easily laid you down on your back, “Just lay here and rest. I’ll be right back sweetheart.”

You closed your eyes and hummed to yourself at the taste in your mouth and the way your body was buzzing with satisfaction.

Opening your eyes just as Harry walked back into the room he was buck naked, cock swinging, chest slightly damp, and impossibly strong thighs. A god really. You’d never get over his body.

He held a glass of water out to you and had brought in a damp towel to wipe you up. You sat up to take a few gulps of water before he delicately pushed you to lie back down. The towel was warm and it felt so good on your sensitive skin.

Harry laid next to you and kissed your cheek and then nuzzled into your neck, his hot breath falling over your skin, “You’re amazing, baby. I’m never gonna forget tonight. So good for me.”

You sighed and turned to face him as he gently dabbed between your legs, “Kiss me, Daddy.”

His grin made the edges of his eyes crinkle, “Happily.” He pressed his mouth against yours and you both kissed soft and lazy as he tossed the damp towel to your floor and wrapped you in his arms.

You couldn’t be sure of how he kissed you but when he was helping you out of bed and speaking softly to you about having a bath with him so he could hold you longer you felt wobbly still.

With your eyes closed and your back against his chest in the warm water, he started talking. And as you felt more aware and conscious you realized he was sort of spilling his guts to you.

“I was so sad when I woke up this morning. But seeing you and all this,” he squeezed your arms, “I think I can breathe now. You made everything feel better, Y/n.”

You listened closely as he continued, his chest vibrating as he spoke, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night. And I realized something too. Tonight. Just now. I think Kit was right. You and I do really have good chemistry. We fit so well together don’t we?”

You hummed and nodded with a small smile on your face.

He sighed and pulled his arms around you, “Don’t want this night to end. Want to just stay here with you, holding you like this.”

Your heart began to pound as you started to feel his words. You knew what he meant and you felt it. You could feel his scruff on your temple as he rubbed his face in toward yours, “You feeling better now?”

You nodded and turned toward his face, “Yes. So much better. You make me feel so good.”

Harry slowly blinked as he kept his gaze on yours, “You make me feel so good too.”

When the water grew tepid Harry wrapped you in a towel and tightly hugged you as he walked you to your room and made you drink more water.

He took your towel off and helped you into your bed and pulled your blankets over your naked body before he began to pick up his clothes from the floor.

You pouted and sat up, “Please don’t go. Will you stay here tonight? I need you here with me. I think I just…” you felt tears in your eyes as you looked upward to will them away.

Harry dropped his pants to the floor and sat on your bed, cupping your face to look at you, “I didn’t want to assume you wanted me to stay. But I’ll stay tonight. I’d love to stay with you.

So he did. He held you in his arms, pet your back, and kissed your forehead until you had drifted away into a deep sleep.

The morning was slow with the first bit of sun shining through the cracks of your window. You were burning hot in Harry’s arms so you poked your head up and breathed as you wiggled out of his hold.

“Where you going?” His groggy morning voice was too sexy to make sense.

“I have to pee,” you laughed as he released your wrist and you quickly padded to your bathroom.

When you got back into your room Harry was already dressed and running a hand through his hair as he looked at himself in your mirror.

Turning to face you he grinned at your Pokemon robe, “Cute. You’re always so fucking cute, Y/n.”

You looked down at the robe and shrugged at him with a small smile.

“I have to go. I hate to leave so quickly but I’ve got to get home to the boys and get them ready for our little outing today.”

You nodded, “Yeah. That’s okay. I understand.”

Harry tilted his head as he stepped in front of you and pulled you in for a hug. It felt like one of those this-is-it hugs. It felt so final.

“Y/n,” Harry pulled back to look at you, “You’re amazing. If you ever need anything or just want to say hi, you know how to reach me.”

You walked him to your door and watched as he made his way down the steps and out of your sight. Your final view of the only man you were sure you’d never get over.

. . .

“This is cute,” your cousin reached out to touch your pink pearl choker as you stuffed your bag with clothes.

You paused what you were doing and placed your fingers over the necklace with a smile, “Thank you.”

The necklace gave you warm and happy memories now. As much as you wished something could have happened between you and Harry you knew that just wasn’t possible. He was going through a divorce, had kids, a broken heart… But your last night together had mended you wholly. You knew it was something you’d never forget and you were grateful to him. You just hoped that maybe it did him some good too. Maybe it was something he took with him that made him smile like it did you.

The days and weeks after had been hard for you. Often you’d pick up your phone and compose a text, only to read it over and over again before deleting it. It was hard to let him go completely but now it was Christmas Eve and you felt like you were on the other side of it. Mostly. You still thought of him every day but it was easier.

“You have such good taste. You’ll have to go with me shopping sometime.” Chandy spoke as she plopped down on your bed next to your bag.

“That sounds fun actually.”

Chandy had come over to your apartment to pick you up since she lived so close. You were heading to her family home an hour out of the city. It was tradition for the whole family to get together at your aunt and uncle’s lake home. It was gorgeous in the winter with their soaring windows and snow all around.

You stacked presents into two grocery bags and slung your overnight bag over your shoulder, “Ready?”

“Yes! First, I have to use your bathroom then we’ll hit the road.” Chandy rushed off.

You sat on the edge of the arm of your couch and pulled out your phone to see a text that had your heart squeezing and throbbing.

It was a picture of Harry and the boys in front of a Christmas tree and his text read:

Merry Christmas, Y/n. We miss you!

You quickly typed out a response.

Merry Christmas! I miss you guys so much!

You placed your hand over your heart to calm yourself and the sudden rush of all your feelings you thought had begun to fade away came rushing back.

You closed your eyes after you watched your sent text go from delivered to read.

When you opened your eyes and saw that he was typing something your entire body grew hot as you stared intently at your phone.

“Okay! Ready!” Chandy chirped.

You stood up with your phone in your hand, “Uh, I’m gonna just go to the bathroom too real quick!”

You closed the bathroom door and felt the vibration from an incoming text. A wide grin on your face.

What are you doing for New Year’s?

As fast as your fingers allowed you responded.

No plans. What about you?

It was the longest wait while you watched the bouncing dots stop and restart. A full minute of waiting as you flushed the toilet (to pretend you’d been using it so Chandy didn’t wonder) and then washed your hands, staring at your screen.

The boys and I will be making a very “special” dinner and then we’ll ring in the New Year with sparkling grape juice and The Poseidon Adventure. They each invited a friend and told me I had to invite someone too.

Drying your hands off, you bit your lip and typed.

That sounds so fun. Who will you invite?

You chuckled to yourself. You were almost certain he was inviting you but you couldn’t be sure until you saw his response.

I’m inviting YOU. Wasn’t it obvious? ; )

Well, in that case, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it. <3

. . .

You had no idea what to expect for New Year’s but you and Harry hadn’t stopped texting since he reached out. The whole time you were with your family on Christmas you kept your phone by your side so you wouldn’t miss a single message.

You dressed casually for the New Year’s Eve party at Harry’s because there were going to be 4 ten-year-old boys there. And you learned the “special” dinner they were making was grilled cheese sandwiches, French fries, and for dessert chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. It honestly sounded amazing.

You also learned that Kit had moved out, leaving the house to Harry and they were on very good terms. They would split custody of the boys 50 / 50. And that technically they were still married but the divorce was moving along quickly because there were very few things that needed to be worked out. They seemed to be on the same page.

You parked in the street in front of the Styles house and noticed lights strung up on the columns of the porch and a Christmas wreath on the front door.

The moment you closed the door to your car you saw the front door open and Warner and William busted out and ran toward you, “Y/n!! You came!” – “Dad said you were coming!”

They both hugged you, one on each side and you could have cried. You hadn’t seen them since August and it was already December. You felt like they’d grown bigger in those few months.

They started to pull you toward the house but you laughed and stopped, “Hold on! I have presents for everyone in the car I have to get.”

You opened your trunk and pulled out two bags that had presents inside and when you closed it Harry was there in the yard watching you with a soft grin. You felt blood rush to the apples of your cheeks at the sight of him and your heart throbbed in your chest.

“Hi, Y/n,” his dimples winked awake and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he stepped forward to take your bags, handing one to Warner and one to William, “Take these inside and pour Y/n a glass of the New Year’s mocktail we made. We’ll be right in.”

You clasped your hands behind your back as you let your eyes fall over his outfit. He was wearing a red chunky knit sweater with a big green Christmas tree in the center that had gold and silver balls all over it, “Love the sweater.”

Harry looked down at it and back at you, “Love that you’re here.”

The heat that spread over your face stretched down your neck and your back as he stepped in closer. He was far too handsome for his own good and all the memories you had with him were flooding your brain with inappropriate thoughts but also with fondness and excitement.

“Thank you for inviting me.” You looked up at him as he stood directly in front of you.

Harry stared down at you for a moment, his eyes blinking and his pink lips twitching tremulously, “I know I look ridiculous in this,” he gestured at his sweater looking down at it and then back at you, “and this isn’t the most romantic reunion but I wanted to ask you before the festivities started if you’d like to go on a date with me tomorrow night?”

Your lips parted as the question floated around in the air between you two. You couldn’t believe he was asking you on a date.

“A date? Like…” You bit your lip and looked down at the ground and back up at Harry, “A date date?”

Harry smiled widely and nodded, “A date date.”

You exhaled a small laugh and nodded, “Harry, I’d love that. Yes.”

Suddenly his arms were wound around your middle and you squealed as he lifted you from the ground and spun you in his arms. The moment your feet hit the grass he gave you a quick kiss, cupping your face in his hands, and then parted as he looked back at the house.

Harry let you go and smirked at you as he took your hand to lead you to the house whispering, “Now I know this sweater is pure sex but you’re just gonna have to keep your hands to yourself tonight.”

You laughed and squeezed his hand, “It’s gonna be hard but I think I can behave.”

Harry stopped and turned his face toward you, his warm mouth at your ear, “Y/n, I’m so glad you’re here.”

A/N: I hope you guys loved this! Let me know your thoughts please!!

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randomdragonfires · 19 days

Text

I'm A Fire And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm [One Shot]

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Flowers come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage.

WARNINGS | 18+; Mild Smut.

WORD COUNT | 9.6k

A/N | Yet another repost, yay! This one was written based off an ask sent to me by @wonderbias and beta read by the loml @humanpurposes

Their union began as a fragile, delicate one.

By all accounts, Aemond Targaryen was a fine man that any maiden in the Seven Kingdoms would be proud to be with, should he– a skilled dragonrider, a scholar, a respectful man of honor, a prince worthy of his name and blood– choose to take her to wife.

If only he was not so stoic and dull, they said. The very jovial little lady of Highgarden will be bored of him in moments!

‘Twas the first of many whispers he heard of his apparent inadequacy with regards to his impending nuptials and marriage, and even though it killed him, he could not bring himself to disagree. The woman that he was to marry – the beautiful, kind, ladylike wisp of a girl that was to be entrusted to him– was a fair maiden who lit up any chamber she graced with her presence, a stark contrast to how he seemed to darken those that he stalked into.

Charming girl like that, she will hate him, they said. The poor thing is probably scared.

Every lady dreamed of chivalrous knights and charming princes, and Aemond knew very well that he was far from being either. They dreamed of charming men who would immortalize them in song, whose looks could thaw the hearts of the coldest women in an instant. Aemond knew very well that the Gods had refused him the chance to even try with her– what with their allowance of his mutilation at a tender, young age.

Even with just one eye, he saw many possibilities but to his dismay, he did not imagine any outcome would be favorable to him. With the scar he carried on his face and the weight of the world on his shoulders, Aemond was never meant to be the man that his intended deserved.

And so, he decided that he would keep her at arm's length and in consequence, save his pride. He'd reject her before she rejected him. He may not know it now, but matters of the heart are fickle– and to the utter disappointment of his pride, his little lady rose was very easy to love.

He would not be caught dead pathetically pining after a woman who would soon be his. He would not.

And so, their courtship remained devoid of romance and scandal. His family was made privy to each of their highly appropriate conversations, with them taking turns in chaperoning their walks through the gardens.

There was nothing that he wished to share, for he did not want to lose too much. He did what was expected of him, and she did the very same. Soon, there was respect, admiration, and a whole host of burgeoning feelings that Aemond tried hard to suppress - feelings that he clearly did not see in her eyes as she dared to look into his.

How could she feel anything for a stoic, dull, one-eyed man like him?

As he draped the red and black cloak over her shoulder and pledged to be her man of liege and limb, he told himself that he would not try. He would not give into fantasies, only to be met with rejection from a woman who was too good for him; one that may realize it soon enough as well.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. He would feed himself to the dragons before admitting to someone else being better than him, let alone be rejected by that same person. He was certainly not going to woo her, not when he knew that he would only be met with contempt and disgust.

It did not matter how badly he wanted to. He would not allow himself to succumb to such idyllic daydreams. He would not.

When night fell and the wedding feast was in full swing, his new good-father was the only one who could give his brother a run for his money with how deep he was in his cups. It was obvious how the wine-induced stupor affected the fat lord Tyrell as he bellowed for his daughter and his new good son to take the lead and join in the dancing and merriment.

Aemond was ready to retch at the thought, but what stopped him from making his irritation clear was the possibility that she may want to dance. His wife. He had seen her dance before– as graceful as an otherworldly swan. She had a better grasp at frivolous courtly affairs than he did.

His wife may want to dance. His wife, his wife, his wife. A little rose, his.

He shuffled his feet under the cloth-covered long table and allowed his one eye to train over his clothed boots. In spite of all the dancing lessons he had taken with Helaena, Aemond had never indulged before– and now, he was expected to entertain his bride each time a song played. The thought made him want to press his feet into the ground further than he already has, in hopes that perhaps the ground would swallow him whole.

His view of the dancing crowd had been taken from him by half along with his eye. Without the luxury of complete vision, he could not dance without bumping into everyone that was on his blind side. Now, he would have to– if she wanted to.

He thought he could say no, but he feared that if he were to look her in the eyes, he'd never be able to. Perhaps that was why he had refused to even look at her throughout the ceremony, despite her many admirable– yet failed– attempts to catch his line of sight and share a smile.

It was her meek, mouse-like voice that brought him out of his nervous trance. “We do not have to," she said, the words falling out of her lips like a song.

“You like to dance, my lady,” he said.

“But you do not, my prince. It takes two.” Her surprisingly understanding words were followed by a timid smile, one that threatened to rip through his defenses and get to him.

In the crowded throne room, as his new bride sets aside her happiness to accommodate his preferences, Aemond worried that his self-imposed distance from her may not last too long if she kept offering him kind glances and sweet smiles– no matter how forced and dutiful he knew them to be.

He had much to lose; his pride, his heart. He would not risk it, even if she was seemingly easy to love. He would not. He would not. He would not.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride.

Soon after, her drunk nuisance of a father had called for the bedding. Aemond did nothing as his trembling bride was ushered away by the handmaidens and ladies, each of them wriggling her jewelry off as she stumbled in her steps before they carried her off.

Should he have asked for a private bedding? In hindsight, he believed he wronged her by throwing her to the mercies of the court in her vulnerability. Equally, he did not want to attempt a show of compassion– not when she may not even welcome it from the one-eyed fiend of a husband that she was stuck with.

When he walked into the chambers in his loose linen shirt and breeches, his breath hitched in his throat. Helaena had once told him that the Septas refer to women’s maidenheads as flowers. “Beautiful, ripe and ready for the plucking,” she had said, keeping her nose pointed upward in her imitations. He'd never given the words much thought.

Until now.

There she was. His wife, his flower, his rose, ready for plucking, in her translucent white shift and now untamed hair, like a fae in a dream. How could she possibly be his? How could she possibly be happy with a man as monstrous as him for a husband?

Her eyes, wide and fearful, flittered about his face, in his mind an expression of her repulsion. It pained him to think she did not even give him a chance.

But she was accommodating about my not wanting to dance…

Perhaps she did like to dance; just not with him.

These unsaid words and subsequent misunderstandings plagued their wedding night. Both believed the other did not desire them.

That night, she offered her flower to him– as is her duty– and he took great care in taking it from her. He made sure she was pliant, so that when he took it, she would be as glad and thrilled as he was, regardless of how well-hidden his happiness was.

He may have grimaced in disgust at Aegon's vulgar demonstrations and lessons about the pleasures of the marital bed, but he was thankful as he heard her moan out his name in a silent scream while she convulsed around his fingers. The silent sounds of her choked out moans and the heat engulfing his fingers may have very well been enough for Aemond to find release, and he reminded himself quickly that she will not want him when they're done. How could she, deformed as he was?

And so, he stopped wanting to be good for her, and simply endeavored to get it done with.

She was only more than willing to allow him to take her flower. If he was not so preoccupied with his own insecurities, he may have seen that it had gone past duty for her. Her loud moans proved the fact, and left little room for dispute (or doubt, in the minds of the prying ears that stayed close to the doors of their chambers, and the sharp eyes of the council who were now shuffling out of their seats).

He inched into her, and her tears and turned face only seemed to make it harder for him. Was he so beyond hope that she could not even look? What was it? Had he hurt her? He did not ask, lest he risk finding out that he was a disappointment. So he lost himself, drowned in his own head as he mechanically moved in and out, in and out, in and out.

Duty. Duty. Duty.

If he had not been so preoccupied with tearing his own being to shreds in his mind, he may have heard her moans as the bright pink tip of his cock hit a rough spot in her, allowing her pleasures and experiences she did not believe she would ever know. He may have known that she desired him, just as he did her.

His self-deprecating thoughts couldn't have been farther from the truth– he may not have realized it that night, but he would soon enough.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the first ever flower she gave him– whether she chose to see it that way or not– came to him on their wedding night, in the form of her maidenhead.

Tourneys were a time of celebration for her.

There was something to be said about the romance of watching men ask women for favors and fight with all the might and grace that they possess. She had often dreamed that a dashing knight or a courteous prince would perhaps approach her for her favor, and then perhaps crown her Queen of Love and Beauty. If she was lucky, the man would court her too.

The man she married was the antithesis of all that she hoped a tourney would bring.

Her husband was not a bad man by any means– no. He was a good and respectful husband, slightly removed and isolated for her outward nature, but she did not mind. There were worse men to be married to, and even if he never went out of his way to be there for her, he certainly treated her well when they were in each other’s presence.

She tried with him, Gods bless her.

She would try to catch his eye at the supper table, or watch him train in hopes that he would meet her watchful gaze once or twice. She would watch in a sleepy haze as he woke early in the morn, long before she had the strength or consciousness to wish him a good day, hoping he would turn to do the same. He never did.

More often than not, a curt nod and a wavering glance was all she’d get. Still there were brief, hopeful moments that kept her active in her pursuit to build a friendship with her husband.

She would have done something absolutely obnoxious— acts that would have him sneering if it was someone else– and she’d see it. That little hint of a smile, waiting to bubble through the surface, just by the corner of his pink lips, that she would have missed if she blinked. Each time there was a tenuous beginning of a hesitant smile, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

He was not so intimidating to her now as he was in the initial days of their union– no. In a little corner of her mind, she acknowledged that fact– that is what helped her find his hand and hold it tight in nervousness, before she could even comprehend the intimacy of the act.

The knight who had just taken a harsh tumble from his horse was carried away by servants, with his head beaten bloody and hands hanging limp by his side. If she did not know better, she would have thought him dead.

The champion then raised his hands up in victory. Thunderous clapping sounds overshadowed all else around her, but she could not bring herself to join. She was still stunned by how the other knight had fallen, and was yet to let go of Aemond’s hand.

She felt the bile rise in her throat, so she brought her other hand to her chest and bowed her head down, a feeble attempt at keeping the vomit at bay. It was awhile until she managed to catch her breath again, and by then the celebrations had moved on from celebrating the champion to the crowning of his Queen of Love and Beauty.

The eldest Lady Baratheon smiled coyly as she received the wreath of winter roses, followed by a chaste kiss to her cheek. The crowd gasped at how brazen the act was, with neither of them being married, but the high of winning makes men do the most peculiar things, she supposed. In the back of her mind, regardless of how uneasy she felt, she wished– desperately.

How she wished it was her.

A childish fantasy really. What was a publicly gifted crown of flowers worth in the face of what she had? She was a Princess of the realm now, married to a skilled dragonrider from a family of illustrious history and blood. Any children they may have will be immortalized in the annals. Nothing. A crown of flowers was worth nothing when compared to what she had– or at least, that is what she would tell herself.

And yet, she craved the romance. She had always enjoyed the idea of being loved and cherished. Her husband respected her, and if she was feeling bold, she’d say he liked her– but he certainly did not love her. That much she was certain of. When she naively wished that he’d crown her, she asked if he was going to enter the lists. He had sharply turned so quickly that she feared she had angered him.

“I don’t give a sh…” He had sighed before speaking again, as though he felt tested. “I do not care for tourneys.” The sharpness in his voice had hurt her, and she did not speak of it again.

Their marriage was a decent one– but it held none of the love she hoped to have, despite all her attempts.

Did he find her so disagreeable?

All of a sudden, his hand felt cold to the touch and she let go of him like he burned her. The heat came back to her hand just as it showed on her cheeks, and his had turned cold from having lost her touch so abruptly.

“I’d like to get some fresh air, husband,” she said, and rose before he could even ask if she needed him to accompany her.

Her quick walk took her to the tent where the court ladies had been sitting, and she had stepped in right in time to hear them gossip– about her husband.

“Well he must keep it on while they… you know! It can be jarring to look at, I’m sure it is!”

“It must be terrible to see it up close all the time. I can hardly look at him from across the chamber!”

He is certainly unnerving. It does make you wonder though, do you think they actually…” the woman lowered her voice to match the vulgarity that was to follow. “Do you think they actually fuck? She cannot possibly want to, and she is not with child either…”

“Well, does it really matter if she wants to? He’s a Prince, and her husband. He’ll take his pleasure regardless.”

Regardless of where she and her husband stood, she would not stand for their marriage to become fodder for court gossip. If she stayed quiet for any longer while these empty-headed women berated her husband, she would be insulting him herself.

“Might I ask what is so amusing?” she said with sharp eyes and a tilted head. The sweat on their faces upon her arrival was apparent, and so was their nervousness.

“My Lady, we were just–”

“Princess,” she corrected.

“Yes of course, Princess. We were just–”

“Making presumptions about my marriage?”

“No… we just…”

“Don’t deny it,” she seethed, anger looking completely foreign on a soft, comely face like hers. Her nostrils flared and her nose went red in her current state, but there was no way she could stop now.

“The next time you feel the need to comment on such matters , perhaps you will all learn to remind yourself that he is a Prince of the realm and I am his wife! There will be suitable punishment, and you will all be dismissed from court at my pleasure, disgraced and husbandless. Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her words were cutting and sharp, and they had the younger ladies bowing their heads in fear almost immediately.

“I’ll have you all know that unlike the other men of the court, Prince Aemond’s scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. His bravery only makes him more handsome to me.”

She then fixed her attention onto the married lady of the bunch and delivered a questionable blow that she would certainly feel bad about later. “If you’ve been led to believe that the man takes his pleasure from his wife even if she does not want to, then perhaps your marriage is a lot worse than I thought. Your husband must have no regard for your wants, unlike mine. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

She did not wait for them to respond as she gathered her skirts and walked out of the tent, feeling largely annoyed and satisfied to an extent. But as she began her walk back, the fear of news of her anger reaching her husband hit her like a harsh and heavy wave.

Would he call her insolent and disgraceful? Has she damaged her marriage more than it already has been?

She did not have to wait long for her answer, for Aemond had been just a few steps behind her, watching the entire scene unfold. The angry flush on her face left her as quickly as it had come, replaced by a skittish nervousness that led to her shuffling her feet as she stood before him, at a complete loss for words.

She swallowed the spit gathering in her mouth, throat bobbing as her head remained facing down to the floor, awaiting a scolding from him for her absolutely inexcusable behavior; her husband was a man who knew his courtesies, after all. He could not possibly be happy with how she carried herself and disappointed him.

“You do not look well. Let me walk you to our chambers,” was all he said before he led her away with a hand on the small of her back.

She remained worried that he was perhaps leading them to privacy and silence so he could punish her while being undisturbed. She could not have been farther from the truth.

She expected him to scream at her, forget all the courtesy that he had shown her and throw his words at her without care. What she was not prepared for, was for him to hold her chin between his thumb and index fingers, pulling her face up to meet his.

He curiously inspected her, almost as though her little show of anger thoroughly amused him. She would not be surprised if it did– she had never been so outward in her anger in the two months that they had been married; this was a completely new side to her that he was now privy to.

“What was that, wife?” His words were measured and cut.

“They…” She was stunned to find that, despite her tongue becoming loose in moments of anger, it was hard for her to speak right now. So, she chose to gulp once more and tried to look someplace else. The uncertainty in his sharp, one-eyed violet gaze was becoming too much for her to bear– but Aemond did not give up easily. He kept her head held in place as she desperately waited for the words to come to her.

“They were being crude, and insulting you.”

He looked at her for a moment, his sharp gaze refusing to waver as the sunlight pierced through the glass windows of their chamber. He then let go of her, and handed her a goblet of wine to calm her clearly unsteady senses. He watched as she took little sips from the chalice, the restless turning of the wheels in his mind apparent on his face.

Soon after, he made up a sham of a reason about having to leave when the cheering crowds became louder and louder. She nodded and continued to sip, completely oblivious to the change of heart that her husband was having as she wondered why he brought her back to their bed.

She did not know the thoughts that now ran fast and surely in his mind. She did not know that he thought his eye had cost him a chance at a happy marriage with her. She had no idea of knowing how conflicted he felt at the new realization, for his sculpted face gave nothing away.

He turned to face her with a hand on the door. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

She nodded and smiled meekly while he stalked back to the festivities.

He held his hands tightly behind him as he tried to make sense of how light his heart felt in comparison to the rest of him.

Back in the chamber, she blushed. For all her worry that he may have been disappointed, she had been completely floored by how he had responded– he was thankful. She berated herself for not considering the possibility– and smiled at the realization that for all her husband’s prowess as a warrior, in times like these, he needed a champion too.

That night, Aemond burned the midnight oil while reading in the library, trying to still his racing heart and make sense of how it leapt at newfound thoughts of his little wife.

Across the Holdfast, in the soft candlelight of their shared chambers, she sat on her husband’s dear chair, looking at her handiwork– an embroidered silk tourney favor, with a little rose.

Her husband may not care for tourneys, but making the favor allowed her the luxury of thinking that should the possibility of him willingly entering the lists come around, he would do so with her gift on his lance. Mayhaps he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty too– the thought makes her blush.

She would give it to him should he ever choose to partake someday. Until then, it would be safely hidden away in her shelves, amidst her gowns and other possessions.

Flowers have came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the second flower that was intended for him– despite the fact that she was yet to give it to him– came to him on the day of the the twins’ name day tourney, in the form of a rose, embroidered onto a tourney favor.

They have come to enjoy each other's company.

Her coming to his defense while expecting nothing in return had lit a fire in Aemond that he could not seem to quell. What he believed she had rejected him over, she had actually taken to being proud of. What he had believed was his one big, obvious and visible fatal flaw, was something that she had taken to holding in high regard.

I’ll have you lot know that unlike the other men of the court, his scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. And his bravery only makes him more handsome to me.

Her words rang in his mind like the definite tolling of the Great Bell at the Royal Sept. With each chime, her assertiveness on the matter came back to linger in his thoughts, he had fallen for her – bit by bit.

Feelings had always been a conundrum to Aemond, one that he did not entirely understand or even want to. But now, with a wife who warmed him and his heart slowly but surely, with her lovely smiles and nervous face, he found that he would like some certainty in the face of all that was uncertain in his heart.

He did not know if he loved her just yet. But what he did know was that, at the pace that she had set for them, it may be a very short while before he does. His wife. His wife, his wife, his wife.

His, his, his.

Coming to terms with having a wife that actually desired his company– and him, surprisingly enough– had spurned his attempts to bring some sort of intimacy to their marriage. Gods knew that she had tried, only to be rebuffed rudely by him in the initial days of their marriage. It was a time that he now felt deep regret and shame for, one that he would not rest until he had made right.

He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

He did not know how to be the charming prince from a bard’s songs. He did not know how to make women laugh like Aegon; be as sweet and kind as Helaena; or as chivalrous and perfect as Daeron.

But what he did know was respect. Aemond understood respect as something that was earned by everyone around him, but to his wife, it should have been unconditional. It should have come to her the day he had cloaked her and made her his– but it did not. Now, he intended to make it right.

He needed her to see that he wanted to try– which is how he found himself with her on his arm, as they walked hand in hand through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards their chambers. Ah yes, hand in hand. Another one of the little joys that he savored like it was his last day alive.

Their initially cold marriage had also been fueled by his blatant refusal to simply be near her, much less touch her. Why would she have wanted to be touched by a one-eyed monster, such as the likes of him?

But the moment he realized that she did not consider him so– not in the least– led to a warmth seeping through his blood, making him crave her so much that his heart hurt. If she did not mind it, why must he not exercise his liberties? And if there was some joy to be derived from it, why would they not want to indulge?

And so he had begun. A stolen touch here, a featherlight graze there.

His huge, calloused hand, seemed to be always holding her dainty one as he accompanied her throughout their time in the castle; on the small of her back as they maneuvered through feasts and dances; around her waist as they closed the distance between each other in their sleep, with her back to his chest; clutching onto her thigh to keep her in place for when she turned around and draped her tiny leg upon his waist.

His hands, all over her.

It was not just these fleeting, quick touches that Aemond had grown to enjoy. With their bond growing stronger with each passing moment, he had realized that their marital duties were simply not duties anymore. They had gone from believing that the other had tolerated their presence, to trying their level best so that the other would know how much they desired them. The growth of their marriage was evident in how their carnal indulgences had evolved.

Where he had held himself to hover over her so as to not facilitate any unnecessary touches, he had now taken to covering her entire being with his own. His hands around her hip as he pounded into her; her hands on his chest as the tip of her fingers grazed and pinched at his nipples. His hands in her hair as he mouthed at her heaving breast; her hands around him as she held onto him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. His hands on her cunt as he drew peak after peak from her before thrusting himself into her; her hands around his cock as she pumped him before impaling herself by straddling him, just the way he liked.

Their sounds of pleasure had been held back and muffled in the beginning, but now they were uninhibited sounds taken by the wind, made with the intent of being heard and making desires known.

Oh yes, their marriage had grown.

This is what Aemond had been pondering as he led her through, with servants making their way for the young prince and princess as she held onto her husband with one hand, and a piece of rolled parchment and some charcoal on the other. He enjoyed their touches now, and it made his heart soar that he did not have to doubt her want for him either.

Yes, they could make something out of this.

“How was your time in the gardens, wife?” It made him happy that with the growth of their marriage, she had taken to exercising her liberties. So, when she had come to him requesting charcoal and bound parchment so she could begin drawing again, he was only happy to oblige.

“Good. I managed to sit and watch the flowers flit about in the wind for a time, and I drew a bit as well. Then the court ladies came to join me as they…”

Aemond listened to his wife as he sat himself on his chair by the hearth, most intently, and with the utmost concentration that he could muster. He could not bring himself to make selfless romantic declarations of love, or speak to her more than he was able. But he could listen, and that is what he would do.

Not a word unheard, not a moment missed. He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

She prattled on and on about her day, and how the court ladies had gossiped about each other when they thought the other wasn’t listening. He listened to the way her voice heightened when her recollections were happy, and he noted the way she frowned when she was in disapproval. He observed how her eyes widened at shocking narrations, and how her hands seemed to move like they had a life of their own.

He kept observing, losing himself in his newfound knowledge of her, her, her… and it was not until she stood close to him, her body slotted between his legs as she held her hands behind her back that he realized she had stopped speaking.

“Go on.”

He did not expect to be given something, not when his name day had just passed. But that is exactly what happened.

“For you,” she said. With her raised eyebrows and coy smile, she managed to place a parchment roll into his hand. Aemond made note of how her head faced down and her feet shuffled as she stood in wait for his approval.

He unrolled the parchment, careful to not cause even a stray tear at the edges. His eyes raked over the drawing, one of clear skill and years of training of the highest level– one befitting a lady.

“I shall treasure it, thank you.”

She smiled at his acceptance, and he nodded. He was not a smiling man, but he hoped that she knew how much he appreciated these gestures. He hoped that their marriage had grown enough for her to notice his quirks, just as he had made note of hers.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the third flower that she had given him was a charcoal sketch of a rose, into which she had poured her heart and soul.

As the days passed, their mornings became brighter.

While she had hoped that the initial days of their marriage would have some semblance of love, and if not, at least affection to some extent, her hopes had been quickly dashed with the closed off and curt behavior that her husband seemed to have made his own. Neither did he ever wish her a good morrow upon sunrise, nor did he kiss her goodnight like in the songs.

But now, there was more.

Where there was coldness, there was now warmth. It was not heat, not like wildfire, no– it was warmth, like from the calm blaze of their hearth. She might not have awoken to a smile, no– her husband was not a smiling man– but she always woke to an arm snaked over her breasts, pressing into her. Where there was distance, oceans between them, there was now a shared intimacy, one that they had both been quietly happy about. She was not put to sleep with a kiss, but whenever she slept on the chaise waiting for him to arrive, he now ensured that she was put into comfortable clothes and carried to their bed with care.

He may not have cared for her in the beginning, but she knew he did now. Her husband was not a romantic man, but his small gestures were enough to make her feel happy and content.

The shift in their dynamic was not just visible in their daytime activities, but in the passions of their marriage bed as well. On the first night that they had coupled, he had been careful, experimental, doubtful. But as the days went by, he had become surer, rougher… insatiable.

She enjoyed this new side to him. She enjoyed being the woman that belonged to a fierce prince, the one that he so clearly desired. She enjoyed being held by him as he moved her up and down his cock, his head buried in her breasts as he breathed in the heady smell of sweat and sex. She enjoyed being impaled by him, her small body being split into two, all while having him whisper words of appreciation in her ears.

My little wife, my little flower. Made for me… only for me, he would say. Tell me who this cunt belongs to, he would growl, hands slapping her little nub over and over until she caught her breath, found her voice again and appeased him.

You! Gods… to you, my prince, she would whine, holding his hand in place, hoping he would fuck her with his fingers once more, just the way she liked.

It came as no surprise to her that ever since they had become welcome to each other’s affections, they had been a lot more active in their marriage bed– so much so that the lewd moans and loud curses had become court gossip.

When she had addressed the matter with him once soon after they had fucked, Aemond had smiled, albeit darkly– the only kind of smile that suited him. Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, he had said. His insinuation that she was now a dragon too, all while his warm breath fanned her neck and his large hands squeezed her backside, was all she needed to quell her worries.

And of course, as was the natural order of these things, she was now with child.

She had been overjoyed when she had found out, and a tad relieved too. The court ladies whispering about her womb was not something she appreciated– their assumptions about her being barren, even less. So when she found out, she insisted that she be the one to break the news to her husband– her time as an expectant mother would never completely be her own, given the station she had now married into.

But this, this moment could be hers and his. It would be theirs alone.

And so, she sat in wait at the training grounds, watching him as he expertly maneuvered his sword and slashed at his mentor, Ser Cole. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge–

Ser Cole had bested him, having noticed the predictability in his movements. Aemond of course, being the headstrong man that he was, refused to give up. The anger in his face at being won over in a fight did not escape her, and she would be lying if she said it did not awaken desire in her once more. Before she could think further however, one of the lords in the audience had piped up.

“Perhaps the Prince would benefit from a token of luck from his dear lady wife!” He said, and the watching crowd around them seemed to agree as they cheered and whistled. Aemond was flummoxed, not knowing how to cope with being faced with the topic of his wife while in the middle of a fight. It was only then that he noticed her, red-faced and smiling as she was– before he could say anything, she had taken the lead.

“I’m afraid I’ve come empty handed, my lord. I’ve nothing to offer him right now!” She quipped with a smile. It had warmed him to know that she was jovial enough for the two of them, allowing him the luxury of staying quiet as she became his champion during situations like these.

“Ah well, he knows you’re here now, Princess! If that does not add to his fire, I do not know what will!”

Perhaps it was her presence, or it was his own prowess as a swordsman. But Aemond was quick to come through this time around. The crowds cheered for their Prince, and so did the man who had taught him to be all that he was.

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Cole said. He patted her dragon prince on his shoulder and walked over to where the swords were arranged. Aemond quickly followed in reverence to his teacher, one that he did not freely give to most. Soon after, the crowds had dispersed, and she watched as his slender, tall form stalk towards her.

“Since when do you frequent the training grounds, wife?”

“Can a wife not seek her husband out when she wants to?”

She could not have imagined rhetorics like these tumbling out of her mouth in the initial days of their union. But they were now closer than they had ever been, and she had discovered that it would not hurt to take initiative, especially given how quiet of a man her husband could be.

He was not the charming prince from the books or the songs, but she certainly loved who he was– inquisitive, considerate and respectful.

“Hm. Perhaps.”

Their walk back to their apartments was a slow and quiet one, with her knowing that he preferred his moments of quiet soon after his training. They soon settled into the solar, with the food spread out for them to break their fast.

As was his habit, Aemond stripped himself of his clothes as she checked the water in the tub with the tips of her fingers, water rippling as her hands moved. He was quick to step in and let his hands rest on either side of the tub, his legs ramrod straight but slowly loosening up as she ran a washcloth over him with a gentle softness that is most unlike him.

Her hands glided over his chest, arms and he caught hold of her when her hands moved to clean his neck, beckoning her to come closer. “My dutiful little flower, hm? Come to assist her husband and answer his every beck and call.”

“I am nothing, if not dutiful.” She said, playful smile teasing him as her breasts threatened to spill out of the neckline of her dress– causing his cock to half-harden at the sight. She kissed his cheek and set the washcloth down, hands traveling to his alabaster hair as she ran her fingers through it, allowing her wet hands to trudge through. When she was done, he was quick to pull at her hand from his side, causing her to bend to meet him, eyes to eye.

“You have a council meeting to get to, husband. Now is not the time.”

She knew very well what he wanted. It was what she wanted too– which is precisely why her own protests meant absolutely nothing to her as she gave in, dress riding up to her thighs and billowing wet in the water as she straddled him. Her cunt was already soaked for him, and he was hot and ready from all the energies that training seemed to have put into him. She rocked her hips forward and backward, adjusting to his girth, while sighing and breathing at the feeling of having him in her. It did not matter how many times he’d taken her, she would never get used to feeling so full.

Soon enough, he had her held harshly by her waist in a bruising grip, his teeth nibbling at her sensitive nipples as he moved her up and down, up and down, up and down. The water crashed out of the tub like waves crashing onto shore and she was quick to fall apart in a mix of pain and pleasure, moaning his name in her broken voice, followed by a silent scream. His release followed soon after, cock twitching in her as he drew her closer, closer and closer still. When she felt his cock soften after a time, she got up and he let her, following close behind.

“You fought well today, husband.” She said, in a feeble attempt to coerce a conversation from him as they sat at the table. He was a man of silence, and she was not. He did not prefer it, but she would try anyway - because there were times when he indulged her.

“Hm. Thank you.”

The smell of cut fruit was intoxicating to her, more so than usual. She had heard of women craving peculiar kinds of food during their time as expectant mothers, so she supposed that this may have to do with the little dragon that she now grew in her belly. The rest of their time eating moved in a swift silence– a comfortable one. The only sounds they heard were of the servants in the corridors and the birds chirping from out the window.

When they finished, the trays were taken away and he got up, ready to leave to sit in on the council meeting that his grandfather had called him for. He was halfway out the door after nodding to her when she took his hand, and he stopped.

Her hands held onto his as tightly as they could, and she was skittish as she continued to look down at the floor. By now, he knew her quirks well enough to know that she did that only when she wanted to say something.

“Go on.” He urged her as his other hand reached for her too.

She drew in a sharp breath as she bit her lip. “I… I am with child, husband.”

She did not know what to expect from him of her news– but his silent sigh and slight smile as his hands reached down to cover her belly in his hold is enough of a reaction. “Thank you,” he said, his gratitude and happiness made obvious– to her, even if not to anyone else. She did nothing but smile as his forehead met hers in a soft touch– their touches were always passionate and rough while in the privacy of their chambers, so it was peculiar for her to be treated this way. She found that she enjoyed it, just as much as she enjoyed being roughly handled by him.

She then stretched the fingers of one hand, revealing a little silk patch, a little tourney favor with a rose stitched on it. A flower, from his little flower.

“I know you do not prefer tourneys, but… it is my hope that you would at least keep it with you while you train.”

His hands ran over the soft silk, fingers tracing the intricate patterns that she had clearly taken her time with. He was quick to smoothen it out and pocket it, following it with a kiss to her lips.

“Thank you, for everything.”

The favor was only meant for the training grounds. But a week later, when she found it peeking out of his pocket while they walked around the gardens, she smiled. Soon, she found out that he kept it with him all day.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fourth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of a favor with an embroidered rose, one that he kept on his person at all times.

There was something to be said about the comforts of silence.

Her husband was not a smiling man, nor was he an ardent conversationalist. Being a woman who leaned towards being both, she had begun their marriage with the intent of treading lightly, lest she annoy him or risk having him dismiss her halfway through. And she did try; Gods knew that she did.

Royal marriages were a sacred duty– those held in its sanctity would have to hold themselves to a higher standard, no matter how much it hurt them. With that being said, she was eternally thankful for Aemond understanding her preferences and trying to meet her halfway. She had been prepared for a man who would coldly dismiss her and her wants, but she had not been prepared for one that would actually want her.

One of the greatest pains of being born a noblewoman, she supposed, was that happiness in itself, was a privilege– one that she wished was not as such. She wished for it to be an easy thing to have, and as such, understood that she had been blessed with a quiet and peaceful marriage - one that did not take from her more than she was willing to give. It did not matter how many times she thought it over– she never failed to be as grateful as she was at the first realization, many moons ago.

These were her thoughts as she accompanied her husband in the library. Aemond sat opposite her, on the other side of the table with his finger running over the texts of the Summer and Winter Annals, deeply engaged in the knowledge that the book had to offer on the now lost Kingdom of Sarnor, once a famed trade partner of Valyria.

The fresh assortment of flowers lay haphazardly on her side of the bench, while she worked towards entwining them all onto the coir to make a crown. She often stole a glance at her husband as she repeatedly adjusted herself on her seat, one that was bigger than her usual one - to accommodate her, and the babe that she now carries.

An heir, a royal heir. There is dragon blood in you now, he had said.

She felt it, what with her babe’s constant reminders - boy or girl, the kicks were hard and swift, and it never failed to take her by surprise.

Aemond was a very fast reader, she gathered. His pages turned a lot faster than hers did, and his eyes never stuck to one part of the parchment for long - they flitted about and were restless, aiding him in his desire to learn as much as he can in the least amount of time. They have been married for half a year by now, and yet she manages to learn something new about him every day.

Her deft fingers worked through the stems of the flowers, piercing the sharp ends of the coir through them. In and out, in and out, in and out, she went - establishing a pattern that she ended up memorizing, whether she was cognizant of it or not.

Aemond stood up as he noticed a guard waiting near the doors, summoning him on behalf of the King. Her crown was now completely done, and she admired her handiwork as she twirled it in her finger and smiled. Aemond was now speaking to the guard as she ran the tip of her fingers over the petals. She brought it closer to her nose to smell them - the flowers were not as fragrant as they were once before, but there was a faint scent that she adored.

He nodded, and she could not help but smile again as he approached her. It struck her harder with each moment, how the Gods had blessed her with him - him with his infinite knowledge, calm disposition and otherworldly beauty. She wondered if the babe she carried would look like him - she hopes, hopes and hopes that they would.

He took the crown of flowers in his hands and handled it with the same care that she put into making it. It looked thoroughly out of place, yet so at home in his hands - much like herself.

A mildly happy lift at the edge of his lips caused a sharp dimple - one that made him look harsh, content and menacing at the same time. She may have wished for a Prince from the songs all the moons ago - but right now, she could not help but think that she had been blessed with someone greater, even if she knew that he did not believe it himself.

He placed the crown atop her head, crowning her. She remembered wishing he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty at the twins’ name day tourney - but at this moment, as his fingers glided over her smooth hair to set the crown of white roses into place, she was happier than she could have ever been at any tourney.

“Escort the Princess safely to our chambers,” he ordered, after rubbing her growing stomach and giving her a kiss on her temple before going to meet the King. She stood slowly, and noticed that one unused and withering flower had been left behind. The air from outside the castle gushed through the windows, and it was purely by instinct that she grabbed it by the stem and placed it inside the pages of Aemond’s book before the pages flew - so it would be marked and he could begin where he left off if he so wished.

Long after her exit, Aemond came back to his bench after finishing his meeting with the King. He noticed the protruding stem, and he could not help but feel the warmth coarse through his chest as he opened the tome and found the withering flower pressed inside.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fifth flower that she gave to him came to him in the form of a dried rose, one that he kept tucked safely inside his favorite book.

It was moments like these that made Aemond believe in anyone but himself.

Being able to love someone blindly was not a gift that Aemond ever found himself capable of giving. Ever since the loss of his eye, he had grown to be full of spite and resentment, believing that having his dragon was enough to make the loss of company around him worthwhile. Nobody knew how to speak to him anymore– how does one comfort a boy who could only see half the world around him?

And then, she came to him. His wife.

With her free smiles and open heart, she had made her way through into the center of his. He found that he preferred her there, where she belonged. She had made her home in his heart, and he marveled at how despite not matching up to her in any way that mattered, she had found it in herself to allow him to take shelter in hers.

It brought him shame to think of how they could have fallen in love much sooner if he had been open to her affections and not been so wrapped up in his own presumed fallacies. But with time, he learned that in a world where marriages remained cold until the bitter end, a late bloom of happiness was a gift that he should learn to treasure.

It is a girl. Do not ask me why I believe so, husband. I simply do, she had said.

The tomes say a bigger belly is indicative of a boy. I read it, he had countered then.

He stood corrected. Aemond would tell the entire realm that his worldly knowledge did not stand a chance against his wife’s intuition– the little girl he held in his arms was enough support for his claim.

She slept soundly in his arms as he sat in his chair by the hearth. His wife, tired from her taxing labors, had taken to sleeping through most of the last three days, and he had not left his daughter’s side, not once.

He held her head as his mother carried her for the very first time, eyes shining in joy as she thanked them both for making her a grandmother once more. There were very few things that gave Alicent Hightower joy, and watching her children have babes of their own was one of them.

He rested the tip of his fingers over her smooth and frail silver hair as his grandfather took a good look at her, allowing himself a moment with his guard down. Aemond had not seen his grandfather look at anyone with such reverence, not unless it was Helaena, Jaehaera or his own mother. And now, Aemond suspected that his grandfather, for all his cold demeanor, did have a soft corner in his heart for the women of his life.

He had towered over the crib as the twins took turns gawking at her, after spending hours begging to see their new cousin. Aemond brought them after they promised to not make too much noise– both mother and daughter were fast asleep. Jaehaera had asked him if she could braid her hair when she grew some, and Jaehaerys poked at the new babe's nose (her mother's nose) with his thumb in curiosity. Aemond laughed, for he was intrigued by her too– only, it was better contained.

He held her tightly to his chest with his hand over her head as Aegon came to meet his newborn niece– completely sober and bathed, upon Aemond’s threats of murder if he came anywhere near his babe with his foulness. He smiled as he dropped the little dragon toy in her crib, looking over at the exhausted mother who could barely keep her eyes open. Aemond’s one eye followed his brother’s then, and visibly softened at the sight of his wife. Aegon laughed and quipped, “I never thought I’d say this brother, but I suppose you do wear the lovestruck look well.”

He had rocked her in silence as Helaena cooed at her, elated at the thought of becoming an aunt to a niece. This family is in dire need of more women, she had mumbled absentmindedly once. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered and Aemond enthusiastically agreed.

She is beautiful, and she is his. His own daughter, given to him by his own wife.

In the nights, when he was left alone with the women around whom his entire world now revolved, Aemond let tranquility take him. And it was in moments like these, that he learned to love them both with all that he had– blindly, and unconditionally.

It was in moments like these, that he learned to believe.

Flowers have come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the sixth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of his little daughter. A little flower, from his flower.

The flowers kept coming to him throughout the many years that followed, and he valued every one of them– for they had all come from her, and they were all a part of her.

His flower. His wife. His very own.

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MASTERLIST

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rishiguro · 1 year

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HAIKYUU BOYS WHEN YOU CATCH THEM CHEATING ON YOU

ft. sakusa; osamu; sugawara; matsukawa; yamaguchi

a/n: i want more angst

warnings: cheating, obviously

sighing he sat down beside you on the couch, not even frowning when you moved away. “i’m sorry you found out like this,” SAKUSA said curtly. “but not sorry that you’ve done it in the first place, huh?” he clenched his jaw, staring at the clean floor between his naked feet. his silence told you everything you needed to know. he was always aware of what he was doing every time he was with someone, aware of the possible consequences and he never really cared enough to stop. but as he saw you leave him behind, a bag over your shoulder and not even looking back at him, the guilt started to sink in, finally realizing what he had given up on for a couple nights of fun.

OSAMU ran his hand through his hair as he groaned in frustration. “i’m sorry!” he yelled out again, “i don’t know what else you want me to say! tell me and i will, i will do fucking everything okay?” you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. “maybe you shouldn’t have gone out to fuck someone, did you think about that?” you yelled back angrily. “i know i shouldn’t have! i should’ve just broken up with you, i know! you were never here, i didn’t even know what else to do!” you didn’t say anything after, instead effective ending the conversation by slamming the door behind you. and every night he thought back to this conversation, replaying what he said over and over in his head, he didn’t know why he blamed you for what he did.

SUGAWARA wished he had an answer for you. you, the person he claimed to love the most, only to betray them in the worst way possible. he couldn’t even look you in the eyes as you kept pleading, almost begging for an answer, only wanting to know why he did what he did. after long minutes of you asking over and over with tears welling up in your eyes, he broke, yelling whatever came to his mind. “they were different! just… just different” he turned away as he continued. “they make me feel so wanted, they give me everything i want, no matter what” he could only hear you chuckling sadly. “i gave you everything i had, but that wasn’t enough?”

MATSUKAWA knew that he couldn’t fool you forever, it was only a matter of time until this blew up in his face. you noticed how he suddenly became clingier again, louder, and seemingly happier. you hadn’t expected that it was because of somebody else though. “i didn’t know how to tell you,” was all that he could say with his lips pressed into a thin line, “i still love you it’s just—“ he took a deep breath, turning around, not wanting to see the look on your face. “i’m not in love with you. i don’t want to be with you anymore” he kept telling himself that it was alright, that he did what he had to just to be happy. but after seeing your facial expression, so full of hurt, he wasn’t sure anymore.

you couldn’t stand being in the same room as YAMAGUCHI anymore, constantly telling him to get out and leave you alone, but he wouldn’t listen. instead he trailed behind you like a lost puppy or a duckling behind his mother, fingers itching to hold on to you by the hem of your top like he has done countless times when he got overwhelmed. he kept apologizing, always repeating the same few words over and over, whimpering when you ripped yourself away from him. he didn’t care about what you would say or do to him, telling himself that he would endure everything just to keep you by his side, praying that you would forgive him his one mistake. he swears that this was all that it was, a mistake — but the chats in his phone say differently.

reblog to take revenge on them

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konigsblog · 6 months

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YANDERE 141, KÖNIG

CHARACTERS: 141 + könig.

WARNINGS: kidnapping, murdering (not reader or any characters), panty stealing, sexual implication on Gaz's one, love bombing, guilt tripping. tell me if i missed any.

A/N: i did this a while ago, but i wanna rewrite it since my writing has changed since! also, i know it's random to add könig but he's my favourite, my husband, and i love to talk about him as a yandere!

proofread.

Captain John Price

Your captain always had the hots for you. From stealing your panties from your clothing hamper, to perving on you in the communal showers. When he finally gave in to the nagging voice in his head and took you, it left you shocked.

He'd always put pressure on you. He'd always overwork you and give you extra reports, and when you asked the others if they had any reports due, they had noticeably less than you had. You had a lot of weight on your shoulders, always rushing reports and having them handed back, your captain expecting more.

So, you put in more effort. Quickly enough, you were exhausted from overworking yourself and the hard work during missions that you pleaded with John to give you a break. Even laswell could sense you were burned out. But John didn't believe you were tired enough. And if you really were, you should just leave the military – I mean, after all, it doesn't seem like your thing.

He made you feel like you weren't good enough to be a part of his team. He always berated you for doing something wrong, an accident that could've been made easily and by anyone. The others took notice of this but didn't say anything in fear of their captain lashing out on them instead.

No one was surprised when you left. Laswell talked about transferring you to another team, since she saw great potential with you. But with John in your ear telling you to leave this industry, you decided that this clearly wasn't your thing.

Once you were gone, you were at ease, but feel as if something was going to go wrong sooner or later. Would your new job fire you? What would the others think of you leaving them like this?

You noticed a few pairs of panties missing, and as if someone were following you around. It left you fearful and almost isolated as you refused to leave your flat, awoken by the sound of glass shattering and a dark shadow of a burly figure looming over your body. Before you could react, a cloth was brought to your mouth, forcing you to become limp in a matter of minutes due to the oddly medical scent filling your nostrils.

Waking up locked and chained to the wall in a basement wasn't what you expected when you first left the military. You imagined marrying someone and living a peaceful life, but soon enough, you were frantically shaking the chains in an attempt to flee. To no use though, as soon, the sounds of boots stomping against the floor above you could be heard and the noise of keys rattling.

John is a cruel yandere. He enjoys seeing you ruined and raw, bruised from his punishments. He sure as hell isn't afraid to put you in your place, especially when you misbehave and curse him out. “What good s'that gonna do for ya'?” he mumbled, smoking the cigar between his teeth, pushing boot down against your cheek.

He loved to humiliate and embarrass you, to make you feel worthless beneath him. He tuts and scoffs, leaning down so the stench of tobacco and smoke could enter your nostrils. Cigar burns along your thighs when you seriously missed behaved, he had to make sure he left a mark on you, that he wore you down and ruined you beyond comprehension, so he could talk to you as if you were worth nothing and have no consequence.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

A very, very calm and nonchalant yandere. He enjoys having you like a pet beneath him, on your knees and forced to obey him.

He'd fallen head over heels with you when you joined the 141. God, how could he not? With the way you look at him after sparring, exhausted and panting, drained of all your strength as he slams you down against the ground for the tenth time.

Simon loves to tease you, he gets satisfaction off the sounds of your giggles and laughs. But, at times he leaves you confused with tears in your eyes from his snarky, hurtful comments. Talking with other men was a huge no for Simon, as he felt like he was at competition for his darling.

He'd planned to take you away while on deployment. He found your address and decided he'd pay you a nice visit when you were walking out drunk from a bar, kidnapping you and throwing you into his van and driving away with the love of his life.

With Simon's obsession, came delusion. He didn't fully understand how you couldn't comprehend why he'd done this. Of course, he wanted to protect you! Shouldn't you be more grateful that you don't have to do any work, that he provides and takes care of you?

Whenever you sobbed and hid against the wall, he'd roll his eyes and order you to sit between his thighs, so he could pet you like an obedient dog. You always gave him those watery eyes that made the guilt waver in his chest, but it was ignored as he scoffed and slapped you across the cheek lightly; a warning.

When you weeped into the pillow, he laid beside you, his arms wrapped around your figure, holding your precious body against his own. He shushed you, your hands tied with handcuffs behind your back and your ankles tied with rope. There was no way he was allowing you to be without him, he couldn't live!

You want him to stay healthy, mentally and physically? Then you stay beside him like an eager puppy, his one and only.

John ‘Soap’ Mactavish

A delusional, lovesick yandere. He can't be without you... he simply can't and wouldn't stand it any longer.

He met you at a bar, with the 141 and he grew a liking to you when you always listened and laughed along with his stupid jokes. It gave him confidence and made him believe that you were interested in him, despite excusing it as ‘just being nice’.

There was no ‘just being nice’, he was sold on the idea of you loving him, and once he got your number, he was over you. Creepy, overprotective messages made you feel uneasy and almost weirded out when he scolded you for wearing an outfit he didn't approve of to a party. How did he know you were at a party?

When asked, he said he was friends with someone there and that he saw you with your friends. It put your mind at ease and you almost felt relaxed for a minute, before your phone lit up with a notification from him.

“Ye' shouldnae be awake so late, love.” he typed out. You weren't on your phone, therefore, how would he know you were awake? Your status didn't say online, and there was no reason for him to assume that you were awake at midnight for no reason.

Until you saw him.

Standing in the hallway of your flat, your eyes wide open as you drop your glass of red wine all over your white carpet. You back up, panting and grabbing your phone in an attempt to call the police, before he gave you a threatening gaze that had you paused in time.

He approached you, sitting beside you on the couch and bringing you into his arms. He leaned you back against his lap so that your head was laying on his lap. Johnny traced his fingertips up and down your cheeks, humming to himself and chuckling at your fearful expression.

He put the muzzle of a gun beside your ear, whispering something to you before hitting you in the head with the gun, knocking you out. Of course, he hadn't shot you. He would never. But he had you bound and gagged on the floor of his basement back in Scotland, naked and bare and fully revealed to him. “Couldnae help mysel'...” he chuckled.

Johnny is a delusional yandere. He sees nothing wrong in what he's doing. Delusional and obsessive, completely attached to you and believes you could do no wrong. Whenever you cry to him that you hate him, a frown replaces his once smile as he forces you down against the couch, forcing you to apologise otherwise he would throw you in the basement without a second thought.

He also loves to pretend that you two are a happy couple. He only locks you away if you're naughty, otherwise he has an arm around your waist and he's bringing a glass full of wine to your lips, having you fall asleep against his shoulder. And he's also extremely creepy; giggling, you'll wake up to him taking photos of you whilst you sleep, watching as you cower and shy away in fear.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

He's a delusional guilt tripper. He'd met you through other friends and became utterly and completely fascinated with your life. He'd love to fantasize about you all day long, thinking of your future together.

Kyle, like Johnny, believed you two were compatible and that had him drooling for you. Always desperate to please and impress you. He'd always gaze over at you and ask you first a question, speaking to you the entire night long until you both knew a lot about eachother.

You two hooked up which fed into the delusions of your love. He wouldn't let you leave the next morning, he'd begged and pleaded with you until tears to stay that extra bit longer. He needed you.

He wrapped his arms around you and rubbed his bare chest against your back. You were, of course, were weirded out by his sudden behaviour, but the strong sense of sorrow and guilt bloomed in your chest. Eventually, you fell asleep beside him, assuming he was also knocked out asleep.

He wasn't.

In fact, you woke up chained to the bed. Your wrists and ankles were chained and spread out, your eyes widening as he caressed your body. His touch wasn't sexual, not like the night prior, but it was tender and full of love like you two were married.

His eyes also grew big when he saw you were awake. He sighed, cupping your jaw to lean in and kiss you, all confused when you attempted to wriggle away. Kyle took offense to this and decided that if you weren't going to listen, he would make you.

Kyle dragged you about by the neck, rope around your neck and acting as a leash. He sobbed, screaming at you for acting so clueless. You lead him on, and now he was blaming you for everything wrong in his life.

How could you!? How could you lead this sweetheart on and make him truly believe he was finally loved? What sick, twisted prick does something as horrible as that?

Your eyes glistened as he yelled, gripping your jaw and crumbling to his knees. God, he was amazing, a mastermind at making you feel bad. He could for tears out of nowhere, smiling widely when you comply.

“Yes, yes... that's it, finally behaving for me?” Kyle smiled cruelly, he could see tears streaming down your cheeks from his scoldings, trapped with him and his forced love.

König

Oh, this poor man believes you want him just like he wants you. He's utterly shocked and heartbroken when you turn him down, that he's too creepy and always stalking you! He's oblivious to the fact that he does this... please, understand this poor man!

Instead of moving on, he takes matters into his own hands. There was no way you didn't love him, I mean, he believed up and down that you were made for him. Fuck, he even planned your future together.

His jaw dropped and his lips parted, anger filled his eyes as he stormed off.

Watching you from afar and admiring the way you walked. The way you talked to other men, what did they have that he didn't!? You couldn't do this, König wasn't allowing it. His jealousy grew bigger every day, and when he realised you had a boyfriend, it boiled over the edge.

Crimson stained the soles of his boots as he walked off. The sound of the snow crunching beneath his heavy weight, leaving your boyfriend's body bloodied and lifeless. No more competition, soon enough you'd cling to your ex-best friend, sobbing about your boyfriend's death.

He knew you like the back of his palm, of course you'd come crawling back with tears in your eyes. He hates to know that he caused those many tears, thinking about his sins and brushing them off so he could comfort his darling.

The police were clueless, just like you. You cried and stayed over every single night, cuddling into König and leaving his shirt wet from your tears. “Mäusi, I just can't believe all these tears are for him.” the tone of his snarky, jealous attitude was back and it immediately caught your attention.

You were shocked that he'd say something like that. Of course, they were for him! He was dead, murdered even, for goodness sake... You had cursed him out, sitting up and looking down at the man laying beside you, wiping your cheek.

He gritted his teeth and sat up, gripping you by the neck and pushing you back down against the mattress. He never wanted to have these outbursts, he wanted you to feel happy and joyful when you were with him. Guilt immediately hit him like a bombshell, but there wasn't any going back and he knocked you out with a single hit.

Life in König's basement was hell on Earth. Soon, you were crying for him not to abandon you in the basement. You'd forgive him, it was alright. A happy smile appeared on his face, it made you ill. He made you feel queasy when he hugged you so tightly you thought he'd kill you with a hug.

Spoon feeding you meals and love bombing you until you feel inclined to love him back, Stockholm Syndrome. After all, he did all this for you. Surely the giant deserves something in return.

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bountycancelled · 3 months

Text

decisions

luke castellan x child of hecate!reader

requested: yep! I hope you like it anon

warnings: allusions about death, but no character dies.

content: yall, it's 1 am rn, and I just wanna go to sleep. it's unedited and nothing bad happens I promise. I'll do a proper content thingy in the morning. pls enjoy while I pass out.

"you know those kids are probably gonna have nightmares for at least a week, right?"

you didn't need to turn to know who was behind you as you leaned against a tree trunk, toying with a twig in your hands. Luke castellan seemed to have an affinity for interrupting you anytime you found solace in being alone. you didnt know how he just... knew, when and where to find you during times like these, but he always did. you found yourself minding his presence less and less as time when on.

"they should consider themselves lucky, I was debating whether or not I should just summon a ghost for them tonight, but I figured they couldn't handle it, and this camp doesn't have any trauma counselling so." the leaves on the twig in your hand withered at an accelerated place in your hands, and a part of you felt bad. you usually kept your distance from anything living since you knew your touch had the possibility of having an adverse, and sometimes deadly affect, but tonight was just one of those nights.

Luke chuckled at your words, plucking one of the now wilted leaves from the twig in your grasp as he spoke up once more. "you know, I actually want you to help me with something, if you don't mind. I need help deciding whether or not I should do something."

you rolled your eyes, giving him a pointed look. "you know I can't make decisions for you. I don't have the ability to know what consequences you'll have to deal with."

"isn't hacate the goddess of crossroads?" Luke countered, a small smirk on his face. you knew that he was only pestering you because he thought it was funny that you always needed to explain your abilities and your godparent to people, but you couldn't just keep silent at his bait nonetheless.

"that doesn't make me some kind of fortune teller, I can't decide for you which direction to go to when you reach a fork on the path. I just have a vague understanding over what you're currently debating if you should do."

"okay okay, no fortune telling. but can you at least point me in the right direction? it doesn't matter how vague." he asked, and you tilted your head to stare up at the starry sky, because you knew that even in the dark, Luke could convince you to help him with nothing but a pleading glint in his deep eyes.

he didn't relent at tour silence or your avoidance of his gaze, uttering a small "please?" which finally broke your resolve.

you took a deep breath, finally looking at him once again, your face deep in concentration. "not a guide either. but I get the sense that... if you don't do what you're thinking of doing, you'll regret it." you felt a bit lightheaded afterwards, but the tree you were leaning against was enough security for you.

Luke on the other hand didnt seem to think so, showcased by how his hands immediately went to your shoulders in an effort to keep you up, while also unintentionally coming closer. a bit too close for comfort, but you were too foggy for the lack of distance to hit you yet.

he nodded at your advice, biting his lip before speaking once again, not missing the way your eyes flicked towards his lips and then back to his eyes, almost instantaneously.

"then I'll just go ahead and say it, I like you. a lot." he had expected a few different reactions, you immediately jumping into his arms and accepting his confession (his personal favourite hypothesis), you shyly stating that you felt the same way, you being shocked that he had feelings for you at all (he liked to believe that he wasn't entirely obvious) but he didn't expect what you did next.

instead, you blew air from your nose, giving him a look he couldn't quite place. "you have horrible taste. and you're also delusional. we've had maybe 4 conversations the entire we've known each other, and you like me?" you rolled your eyes, shaking your head at the words you were about to utter. "but I guess that makes me delusional too, because I feel the same way."

he pouted at your words, feigning hurt with a hand placed on his chest. "you wound me. if I had known you were gonna be this mean... I would've confessed sooner." he added with a slight smirk, trailing his other hand from your shoulder down to your waist, leaning his face towards yours.

you were quick to shut down his advance, maneuvering your way out of his hold. "one thing you're gonna need to get used to, castellan. no touching. at all. at least, not until I'm sure I can control my ability. you have a goodnight though." you called out as you walked away from a now needy Luke, leaving him leaning against the tree.

he quickly followed after you, trying to plead his case. "no touching? that's insane, how could I not touch you? I'm not afraid of death, especially if it comes from my hands on your body, or vice versa. I'll happily forfeit my life for a kiss. come on, I'm fine with just a peck. actually, no. I take that back. if I'm gonna die, we need to make out before I go."

you simply shook your head, reiterating your rule, unable to stop a grin from forming on your face. you stopped abruptly, turning to face him with a serious look in your eyes. "... okay. but just a peck. im serious."

it was not just a peck. but luckily, Luke made it out alive. (though, he seriously wouldn't have minded if he didn't.)

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfiction #pjo x reader #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo #percy series #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan fic #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x you #luke castellan apologist #luke castellan angst

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explicit-tae · 5 months

Note

Hey can you write a jk fic about a world where people can't express anything like they can't laugh,cry or feel any type of emotions and they don't know about these and then jk feels something after seeing oc like that ...

Actually I don't know how to tell you 😭😭

Since there's not really a lot to go off of, I just did what I could with what you gave me 😅 hopefully its similar to what you were intending to say 🫶🏽

Cosmic Balance

Every universal realm has a positive and negative - good or bad. Jungkook manages to cross the portal from his dystopian world to your utopian one and decides that he'd do anything to stay with you.

Word Count: 8.786

Warning: dystopian world, sex-work/brothel, protected/unprotected sex, mentions of cheating, kissing, virtual reality sex, nipple sucking, oral sex, riding, creampie, slight dirty talk, fingering,

Alternate Universe

“Just try it…” is all Jungkook can hear in his mind. His eyes flash to the large digital clock flashing outside his window - he was supposed to be asleep now, as was everyone in his world. “It’s a portal to a whole different world. Just make sure you’re back by 6 am.”

Jungkook’s hands tremble as he grasps the cover on his mirror. It’s one - of many - forbidden rules, completely unforgivable. He never questioned why all reflected areas should be covered as night came, but then again, it was a question that should never be answered.

Jungkook’s world is dark and dull - gray. He was raised upon these rules - he and millions of others. There were rules that were meant to be followed and going against them meant dire consequences - death always an option.

Jungkook removes the cover quickly and swallows the lump in his throat. He stares at his reflection - the terrified look in his eyes and his heaving chest. He licks his lips, the thought of his breaking a forbidden rule has the hairs on his skin rising.

Jungkook looks closer at his reflection, his finger reaching out to touch. There’s a rippling effect in the reflection that when Jungkook touches, he visibly is horrified when his hand falls through the mirror.

Jungkook snatches himself away from the mirror and quickly covers the mirror with the cover once more. He falls onto his bed, heart thumping that they were right - his friends were correct. There was a whole different world besides the one he’s in now and the thought scares him.

Jungkook often wished that there was a different world he could live in. A world where there weren't strict rules for being excited - he could laugh freely in public when something was funny and not risk being arrested and fined.

Was there truly a world that allowed their people to be free - where the atmosphere was carefree and loving. Did the other world allow their people to laugh, smile - even cry - in public and not the confines of their own room. Did the other people only arrest those who were actually committing heinous crimes, and not because they were a minute late on curfew?

Did the other world allow their people to love and marry whoever they wanted? Jungkook thinks how in a few years at the age of 28 he would be married to whoever his government chose - based on status - and he would be expected to have a child no later than a year. Women who couldn’t bear children would be forced to be alone and provide for themselves. They were encouraged to be whores and work in brothels - “it’s not like you could bear a child anyways” is the harsh words the government would speak to them.

Men would oftentimes be ridiculed, losing job opportunities and their status in life lowering.

Jungkook thinks how his life would be if he was in another world where he could love who he wants to and not who he was chosen to.

It’s what Jungkook thinks when he sees you, the same work attire as his. You were soon destined to marry someone else just like he was and he knows that he could never have you. There was always a possibility that you would be chosen for him - but Jungkook doesn’t allow himself to think about it. He isn’t an idiot and he understands that you were going to be taken away by some other man and married - and you’d have that man’s child instead.

Your eyes meet Jungkook’s for a moment and he glances away. He was staring again, he thinks. You’re a smart woman and you know how he feels for you and understands that he could never act upon them. You weren’t a barren woman - and a relationship - sexual or not - prior to marriage to an unbarren woman is one of many forbidden rules.

“Still looking at Y/N?”

The seat beside Jungkook is taken by Taehyung. His friend opens the laptop and begins to type, continuing his work. He speaks in a low tone to not disturb the peace - doing so could lead to arrest.

“She could report you for harassment.”

You could, Jungkook thinks. Women have reported men for harassment all the time - harrassment being even glancing their way if they didn’t appreciate the act.

You could, but you never did.

“Have you gone to the brothel? Maybe you need to let off some steam.” Taehyung glances his way a bit, his typing not ceasing. “Staring at her isn’t going to make things easier.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond - because he knows Taehyung is correct. The last thing he did want was for you to report him for harassment. He could go to the brothel, sure, but there was no real connection there. He could fuck for as long as he desired, but there was no true connection to the women he was fucking nor did he ever know what these women looked like as their upper and lower body are separated.

Sex shouldn’t be so quick nor easy - so one sided. Jungkook wants to know did these women feel the same as he did - even if it was a quick high. Did they enjoy the way he fucked them or did they want him to be slower - or faster, go deeper.

“There you go,” Taehyung murmurs, his fingers typing fast. “in your head again. Did you do as we told you?”

Jungkook sends a e-document and shakes his head. “Freaked out.” he murmurs.

Taehyung snorts quietly. “I knew you would.”

Jungkook sighs. “It isn’t that easy.”

“How so? You walk through the mirror during an in-between and make sure you’re back on time.” Taehyung shrugs. He glances at you for a moment, noticing how your eyes are upon them - mainly Jungkook. You appear to be surprised that Taehyung catches you and quickly, you turn away.

“What are you afraid of?” Taehyung murmurs.

What was he afraid of?

There was a lot to be afraid of. He had never broken a forbidden rule before - uncovering a mirror after hours was an unforgivable one, and now he understood why. There was a whole different universe out there that was seemingly different than his own - he wouldn’t know how to navigate it. His friends had told him stories that appeared to be just that, stories. Something fictional and unbelievable.

Jungkook was afraid that if he went to this world, that he’d never want to return to his own.

Jungkook is disgusted with himself - disgusted in how he finds himself in the brothel.

Not only Jungkook - but many unmarried men starting at the age of 21-27. This was the only place where it didn’t matter how loud you were. You could scream, yell, curse - hell, cry. You can display any type of emotion inside the brothel.

The brothel had color and life to it - not the sad beige and gray of the outside world. It appeared to be like a dream - was this what the other world was like? Colorful? Cherry? Maybe that’s why his friend visited at night. It was like a vacation away from the reality in which they lived.

“Kook!”

As arm wraps around Jungkook’s shoulders.

“Not surprised to see you here after the way you acted at work.” Taehyung says loudly, his natural state booming inside of the brothel. “You’re late. We have to all be gone in an hour.”

Jungkook knows this - he never intended on coming until the last minute. It feels like he’s doing the walk of shame coming inside the brothel, but no one cares. All of these men inside of here were looking to get away; to let off steam from the world they lived in.

“You look depressed.” Taehyung snorts. “You know we don’t judge here.”

“Exactly, Kook.” Jimin places a hand on his shoulder, seemingly appearing from thin air. “I think you should try virtual reality.”

Jungkook scoffs. “It’s bad enough I’m in here.” he murmurs.

“Tae told me the way you were looking at Y/N.”

Of course Taehyung did.

“She’s a fertile woman. Meaning she will be married off to whoever the government chooses as would you.”

Jimin was never the one to sugar coat anything. Jungkook could only respect it.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t pretend.” Taehyung slaps Jungkook's back. “I’ll pay for it.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “That’ll be expensive.” he says with a shake of his head.

Casual sex was free and paid by the government. At first it’s weird - surrounded by men who were all taking turns on fucking multiple girls in the wall that you couldn’t see. But after a while it got easier and Jungkook only was there to cum and go.

Virtual Reality, however, was not free. It costs to have a private room, a girl and the virtual contact lenses to alter reality. You could choose whatever reality you desired for a price - and Jungkook already felt shitty enough about coming here.

“You’re never going to have Y/N unless fate is on your side.” Jimin says. “And fate is on no one side in our world.”

Meaning, Jungkook had to give up on having you chosen as his partner; an act he already gave up on.

“But just for an hour, you can pretend to be with her. It’ll feel good. I promise.”

Taehyung’s words ring through his ears. He’s done this before, Jungkook thinks. He only has a few months left until he’s set to be married, the woman he once wanted far from his reach.

“Okay.” Jungkook murmurs sullenly.

Jungkook is disgusted with himself already - and even more so. But he was a man and he couldn’t hide what desires he had for you.

All the desires he did have for you were taken out on the woman who’s name or face he did not know - he moaned for you. He called you pretty and beautiful and in his mind, he was fucking you.

Jungkook likes to think that in another world, he and you could be together. That you and he could talk freely without others speculating he was harassing you - a fertile unwed woman. But as of right now, he would pretend he was fucking you and not another woman in the brothel during virtual reality.

Jungkook’s eyes watch the way your face contort with pleasure as he fucks deep into you. There was only an hour until he had to leave and he took full advantage of it. He isn’t sure how many times he came, filling the condom he wore completely - but he never wants to stop.

Jungkook doesn’t want this reality with you to end - even deep down he knows that this wasn’t real. Those weren’t your moans nor was it your reaction to him but it’s what he has to deal with to feel closer to you.

“Ah, look at you.” Jimin smirks as he eyes Jungkook exiting the room. His eyes are slightly red due to having to remove the contact lenses. “Feel better?”

No, Jungkook thinks, but he only nods his head.

“What are you afraid of?”

Jungkook places a hand towards the mirror, his eyes widening as it begins to go through just as it did the night prior. He has to coach himself to do it - this was okay. He could do it - he could make it through the portal just fine.

As long as he was back before 6 am, he was good. No one would have to know that he was committing a crime that could be punishable by death.

The portal sucks him in completely - it’s dark and cold. Jungkook’s mind races and he opens his mouth to scream, but he can’t. The feeling is as if he’s jumped from a high surface, gravity completely taking a toll on him.

Jungkook falls onto the ground with a thud, his hands not able to catch himself. He releases a low groan at the impact he’s faced crashing to the floor. He grumbles and pushes himself off of the ground.

Jungkook’s eyes open and it’s then he realizes that he isn’t where he should be. This isn’t his room - even if it was nearly identical. The room had personality - not like the dull one he had back in his world. The ceiling was just as high as his back in his world but the bed is larger. He notices that the headboard - block - has a strange glow behind it and beneath the bed. It glows multiple colors that Jungkook finds fascinating. The large window - where outside displays a large digital clock for not only him, but for the surrounding homes to see - is covered by a long, dark curtain, blocking out the outside world. The closet is on the far right of the room and Jungkook’s curiosity peaks - his world, clothes weren’t expressive. They were bland and more of a uniform that most citizens wore.

Jungkook gasps, having strolled towards the closet and opened it. Even the clothes in this world had personality - different colors and textures. Long, short, tight or loose - it amazes him how people in this world could express themselves freely.

“Does your girlfriend know you have me here?” a voice sounds from right outside the door that Jungkook leaps into the closet and hides, only sliding the door close a bit to see.

Jungkook is flabbergasted upon seeing himself - or, this new world version of him. Did this man have the same name as him, or was it just a look alike?

“Y/N’s not going to be here tonight.” Jungkook hears his voice and he stiffens. “She’s out with her friends.”

Y/N.

You.

You were in this universe, too.

You and him - could Jungkook call this different version of this man “him”? Regardless, you and he were together.

You were his girlfriend in this universe.

And he was cheating on you - Jungkook wants to faint at the revelation alone that in this universe he had you. He had you - the person he wanted. There were no rules on sex outside of brothels here - nor did it appear that a government was controlling every aspect of life.

Jungkook had you in this universe - and he was cheating on you.

Jungkook couldn’t stay here any longer and watch himself be with another girl. He wouldn’t notice himself creeping out of the room - it's dimly lit and the only lights are that of the changing colorful ones. He’s slow with opening the door and closing it discreetly behind him.

The rest of the home is just as amazing as the bedroom - full of this version of him. There’s artwork displayed on the walls that catches Jungkook's eyes, but he doesn’t have the time to stop and appreciate it like he wants to because something else catches his eye. It’s in the hallway as he’s walking by.

A picture of you and him - together. You were smiling, arms wrapped firmly around him, your cheek pressed against his own. You looked beautiful; happy. He did, as well.

Jungkook touches the picture - were you different in this universe? Is this why he was cheating on you? There had to be a reason as to why this version of him would go against everything he wanted for one night with a woman when all he wanted was you.

Jungkook hears a muffled voice and his head snaps down the hall where his front door would be. He contemplates running, but he doesn’t. The door opens and his heart stops.

“Kookie.” you tilt your head and offer him a smile and then a confused look. “You’re still up?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say and it’s like his breath was taken away. You’re in front of him - you’re speaking to him.

You called him Kookie.

Your clothes are something he’d never see you wear in his world. Your dress is dark and tightly fitted and it shows a great amount of cleavage. Your skin looks so smooth and soft and his hands tremble to feel it beneath his palm.

“Are you okay?” you take a step forward, your heels clicking against the floor. You reach out to touch his forehead and Jungkook knows now that he isn’t okay. “You don’t feel hot-”

“Y/N.” Jungkook says, and this is his moment. He touches your face fondly, thumb pressing itself against your lips.

You snicker. “What’s gotten into you?” you ask. “I know I said I would be out all night but I wanted to come home to you.”

Jungkook releases a shaky breath at your words. You wanted to come home to him - but not him, your version of him. The same Jungkook that was cheating on you now and expecting not to see you.

Jungkook doesn’t want that for you - even if this was his last time seeing you in this world. He doesn’t want to be the reason for your pain. “Let’s go out together.”

“Together?” you knit your brows. “Dressed like that?”

Jungkook looks down at his own attire - basic black t-shirt and jeans that would only be acceptable for him to wear at home back in his world - but maybe in this one it was exactly that; basic.

“I just want to be with you.” Jungkook murmurs truthfully and you smile - a bright smile that causes his heart to sink. He would have to go home eventually, and he wouldn’t be able to see it anymore.

“Okay.” you nod slowly, taking his hand in yours. “You hungry? We can go to Late Night Slice.”

Jungkook is shocked to see how crowded the streets are. Back in his world, no one was allowed outside past 9 pm. Even during the day, citizens had to walk in a straight line, no more than three people standing side by side.

It was past curfew but yet here everyone was. People were laughing, littering the streets without a care in the world. There was a melodic tune playing, something he’s never heard before.

“You act like you’ve never heard music before.”

You say it as though you can read him, Jungkook thinks. “Music…” he murmurs, trailing off.

There wasn’t any music where Jungkook was from, and now he’s realizing that his world was Hell compared to this. It was night time but yet, everything was so bright. The laughter from everyone surrounding them, the music - the atmosphere in general.

Jungkook feels his skin erupt with goosebumps.

“Come,” you yank him lightly to get his attention and you fully have it. You take him to a small shop where only a few people were inside. The smell makes Jungkook’s stomach rumble and his mouth salivate. “I ordered ahead already, so it should be done.”

Order ahead? Jungkook wants to ask what you meant, but he doesn’t want to appear any more dumb than he was when it came to you and this world.

“I can take that.” Jungkook says as you go to grab a large tray of pizza - it smells as delicious as it looks and Jungkook cannot fathom how someone can be open and cook amazingly this late at night.

“I’ll go get our drinks.” you smile at him brightly that it nearly causes Jungkook to drop the tray of food. “Go find us a table, okay?”

“Yes.” Jungkook nods, licking his lips. He wants to hurt himself - not really. Hurt this version of him. As you and he sit here and eat as a couple, he was cheating on you with another woman - one not worthy of his attention.

Jungkook finds a table farther from everyone else and sits down, placing the tray of pizza onto the table. He watches from afar as you come back with two drinks in your hands and his lifts form into a small smile.

“What’s funny?” you ask him as you sit down across from him, placing the drink in front of him.

“I’m not laughing.” Jungkook knits his brows. “You just look very beautiful.”

Jungkooks cheeks are red as he speaks.

You’re taken aback by the compliment. “Ah, really?” you snort. “You only ever call me beautiful when you’re fucking me.”

Jungkook’s throat tightens at your words and his breath hitches. You can speak so freely in this world, he thinks. There doesn’t need to be a hidden conversation of whispers or hushed murmurs. “I-I…” he doesn’t know what to say. On one hand, the thought of him being with you outside of virtual reality has him excited - but the other part of him finds this version of himself highly selfish. He cannot think about only calling you beautiful when he is intimate with you - especially in a world in which he doesn’t have to hide his love. “...You’re very beautiful to me, Y/N. Even outside of…sex.”

You blink a few times, watching Jungkook intently. Slowly, you begin to smile. “Thank you.” you say softly. “I think you’re beautiful, as well, Kookie.” you say teasingly. “Now let’s eat!”

Jungkook never wants to go back to his world. He doesn’t want to leave you behind with the version of him that doesn’t love you. You and he eat and it mainly consists of you talking to him while he listens closely - he isn’t sure of what you are talking about. He isn’t from a world where “clubs” or “bars” are normal - but they seem fun.

Jungkook takes a sip of the drink you gave him and he immediately coughs.

“Kookie? You okay?” you rush to place a napkin in his hands.

“W-What is this?” Jungkook smells the clear drink and his eyes widen as it begins to fizzle.

“Sprite…?” you tilt your head. “Does it taste funny?”

Funny wasn’t the word - it tasted strong. He hasn’t tasted anything like this before, the taste feels as if it’s stabbing against his taste buds and fighting against his throat.

It was a weird taste that Jungkook liked.

Jungkook begins to chug the rest of the drink entirely, his body shuddering at the amazing taste. It brings a rush through him.

You watch wide eyed as Jungkook slams the cup down against the table and burp. He places a hand over his mouth at his crude actions. “Excuse-”

“You’re so cute, Kookie!” you laugh at his actions, a sweet melodic laugh that he wants to hear for the rest of his life.

Jungkook finds himself never wanting to leave you, but needing to each time he’s visited and coincidentally managing to not come face to face with himself while doing so.

The first time he had to go through the portal, there was a longing feeling holding him back - the euphoric sense that this new world was better. It was colorful and full of life - returning back to his world left him with deep sorrow. He was coming down from a serotonin high and he realized that each time he did so, he was growing more and more depressed.

But Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to care. He would go through the drop of serotonin if it meant he could see you every night - and each night he did. He would visit you, somehow managing to avoid himself, and have an amazing time with you in this Utopian world. Each night was something different - you took him to midnight festivals that played “music” - an amazing tune with people singing and dancing and it’s something you forced him to do with you.

And Jungkook loved it - he adored dancing with you. He enjoyed being carefree and not feeling judgmental eyes upon him. He tried different foods that his world would never allow, drinks that caused his taste buds to go crazy and such sweet snacks that at times would cause his teeth to hurt.

This utopian world was amazing and each time he would return home, he hated it. He was exhausted from the lack of sleep but wouldn’t stop from returning the next night because it was worth it to get away from his world and to see you.

On his 12th day of returning to the Utopian world, Jungkook isn’t alone. He hears screaming coming from further into the home. He ventures outside of the room stealthy to see what’s wrong - mainly because he hears your voice. It’s strained and filled with pain - as is your appearance when his eyes catch you. His heart drops when his eyes catch your face - you’re crying, a black streak streaming down your cheeks. It’s makeup he now knows, having watched you put on the products and astonished when it enhances your beauty even more.

“Where are you planning on going, Y/N?” Jungkook hears his voice say, his tone far too aggressive for his liking. “You live here. With me.”

“You had another woman in the same bed that I sleep in Jungkook.”

Jungkook sighs to himself, his heart falling once more. It was a matter of time until you found out, he thinks. It wasn’t something he wanted to happen for you - you were someone he loved, even if he wasn’t from this world. He wanted you to be happy and live an amazing life, even if it wasn’t with him but with the version of him that didn’t deserve you.

Jungkook watches you push him away with a huff when he tries to bring you closer to him.

“Fine.” Jungkook then shrugs with a scoff. “I’m leaving. If you want to pack everything and leave then you can. But I’m not forcing you to go.”

You snicker with a shake of your head at the audacity of Jungkook.

“You’re going to throw everything away because of one mistake?”

“Was it only once?” you ask him with folded arms. You’re waiting for him to respond to the question you know the answer to already. “Your silence tells me everything I need to know.”

You feel Jungkook’s eyes watch you storm away. He bites back a remark and instead decides to let you cool off. You weren’t going to leave him - where would you even go? You didn’t have anyone but him.

Jungkook watches himself leave out the front door, slamming it behind him as you’re making your way towards the bedroom. Jungkook saunters back inside the bedroom and hides inside the closet, a sense of deja vu coming through him.

You slam through the door and fall onto the large bed. You’re crying again and the sound makes Jungkook want to hurt this world's version of him.

An affair wasn’t allowed in his world and it’s a punishable offense. Of course, very few men loved their wives that they’re set upon and vice versa. Only few come to love one another - but it’s rare. He had to look at his own parents as evidence of this. As he and you would walk the busy streets the past weeks, he noticed people of all ages and genders together - two older couples sitting side by side enjoying one another's company. Two men holding one another while taking pictures - it’s nice to see and experience.

This version of Jungkook didn’t deserve you or this world, he thinks - he took it for granted.

“Y/N.”

You flinch at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. Your eyes widen at him, not hearing him come in. “W-Why are you in the closet?”

Jungkook swallows.

“And when did you change…?” your words trail off, hands wiping your tears.

“I’m sorry that he hurt you.” Jungkook murmurs, his tone lowering. His eyes are sad, you note, sad for you. He comes closer, his demeanor soft unlike the cocky and narcissistic one of that prior.

You stand to your feet and tilt your head, your eyes focusing on his face. “You just got a piercing earlier.” you murmur, more to yourself than to Jungkook. “Where did it go?”

Jungkook stiffens when he feels your fingers on his lips. His hand reaches up to touch yours on his face and he sighs. “I hate the way he treats you, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve you.”

Your head is spinning at Jungkook’s choice of words. You’re confused at how he’s wording everything - as if he’s a third person in this situation.

“Kookie…?”

Jungkook kisses your fingers then your hand. “I wish I could stay here with you. Forever.”

You aren’t sure how to feel, your emotions are spiraling. Jungkook speaks as if everything that went down between the two of you hasn’t happened - and your mind is beginning to fog; contemplating if it did or not.

“I’m not from here, Y/N.” Jungkook speaks once more, lowering your hand to your side and entangling his fingers with yours. “I wish I was so I could treat you better than him. I wouldn’t take you or this world for granted.”

You don’t speak, unable on what to say in response. You aren’t crying anymore, your cheeks stained with tears and puffy.

Jungkook tugs you deeper into the room and towards the mirror by the closet. You’re unsure what’s going on and where he’s getting at.

Jungkook’s sure he might regret this - that you would be freaked out to the point that you wouldn’t want to talk with him anymore, but he had to show you.

Jungkook stops in front of the mirror and turns towards you. He lifts your hand that’s holding his and slowly, brings it towards the mirror.

Your eyes widen in shock when your hand sinks into the mirror, a cold, windy feeling causing your hand to tremble.

“J-Jungkook-”

“I’m from a different world. I was just as scared as you are right now.” Jungkook says, bringing your hand out of the mirror and letting it go. His hands grasp your face. “I came here and everything's so…euphoric. It’s nice that everyone is accepting. There’s no strict rules enforced by the government to control you all.”

Jungkook’s thumb rubs along your lips.

“You…in my world you and I can never be together. Not unless the Government allowed it and I’m positive they aren’t. You are free to be in love with whoever you want here, Y/N. And I’m sorry this version of me is taking you for granted.”

Your heart is beating at an alarming rate. Your eyes are wide with shock at his words.

This Jungkook was not your Jungkook - not the man who cheated on you and left without as much as acknowledging your feelings. This Jungkook came from a different world - and as unbelievable as it sounded, it was true.

“Why can’t we be together?” you murmur, still unsure if this was reality or a dream - everything felt real at this point.

“The Government chooses who we marry based on ranking and status.” Jungkook explains. “You’re a woman who can bear children, so you’ll be married to someone of their choosing.”

Your eyebrows knit. “Why does it matter if I can bear children or not?”

Jungkook smiles sadly at you. “Barren women cannot be married.” He recalls wishing that you and he were both barren, then maybe the Government would see the two of you as useless and allow him to marry you - but life wasn’t that cruel to either of you.

“It must be a cruel world.” you murmur, and Jungkook agrees. “How long have you…”

Jungkook knows what you’re speaking of. “Close to two weeks. I’ve been coming to you every night.”

Your eyes widened and now, everything made sense. How Jungkook - well, not the one before you, but the other one - would be confused about the night prior, but you’d just thought he was either faking or too tired to. But no, you and this Jungkook from a different world were the one spending it together.

This is why the connection between the two of you suddenly has changed. It became bearable to be around Jungkook. He smiled and laughed more. He was willing to hold your hand wherever the two of you went and would sneak kisses at random times. He took more pictures with you and appeared overall happier than before.

But it wasn’t the Jungkook you know - it was a different version of him.

You snicker, your eyes swelling with tears.

Jungkook shakes his head. “I-I’m sorry for taking advantage of you, Y/N. Please don’t cry-”

You hand your head. “I’m not upset with you, Jungkook.” you say, blinking away the tears that are forming. “I’m upset that you and I can never be together because you aren’t from this world.”

Jungkook’s chest tightens at your words.

“And I…I can’t go to your world, either.” You didn’t want to, Jungkook thinks. He doesn’t want to see your demeanor and personality change if you went to a world so different from this one.

“I’m sorry-”

Jungkook is interrupted suddenly by your lips on his. He’s taken aback by your sudden actions, but he doesn’t push you awake.

“If there’s a world,” you remove your lips from his for a moment. “that is an alternate realm where you and I are in, that means…he can’t die.”

Jungkook isn’t sure where you’re getting at.

“Jungkook can’t die because then you’ll die.” you say, your hand caressing Jungkook’s cheek. “I-I don’t think you and he can be in the same world, either. It would probably cause some type of unbalance.”

Jungkook nods. “The in between opens at 12. I make sure I’m back before 6.”

You nod slowly.

“I want you to stay with me, Jungkook.” you murmur to him, as if it was a secret that only he can hear. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

Jungkook nods his head, doe-like eyes widening. “I do,” he admits. “but I don’t think-”

“SShh,” you peck him on his lips once more and Jungkook melts into the kiss. “we have a few hours before we can figure out what to do. I just want you to stay with me.”

Jungkook nods.

Kissing you had to be his favorite thing to do. And touching you, feeling your smooth skin against his palm.

Your back hits against the bed, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. This Jungkook was different from the one you’ve known. He was gentle and kind. He cared for your feelings and truly wanted what was best for you.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you.” Jungkook manages to push himself away from you just as your hand dips underneath his pants. “You’re already hurting from what he’s done to you.”

“You aren’t like him.” It’s weird to speak of a different version of himself as if it was a whole different person with a different face. “I want to be with you.”

Your hands do make their way into his pants and you proceed to grasp his hardened length. Jungkook hisses. “O-Okay.” he nods hastily with no other argument. He caves far too easily - but he’s wanted you for so long. The virtual reality he had was an embarrassing moment he wanted to forget - but now he was going to have the real thing. The real you.

“I-I want to pleasure you.” Jungkook’s cheeks are tinted as he speaks, but it’s like a dream of his. Coming from a world where pleasuring a woman (before marriage) isn’t a priority, he wants to do this - especially with you.

Jungkook kisses your neck, inhaling your sweet scent that starts to drive him wild. His hands roam your body, grasping the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your head.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.” Jungkook murmurs, his lips kissing down your collarbone to between your breasts.”So beautiful and all mine.”

Jungkook doesn’t want this moment to end - he wants to savor every bit of it. He wants to sit and stare at the beauty that’s your body for hours if the universe would let him.

You feel Jungkook's hand dip behind your back to unclasp your bra. It’s left discarded, his hands roaming your back entirely. He shudders.

“You look scared.” you teased with a hushed tone. “As if you have never done this before.”

“I’m not married, so no, I have not.” Jungkook speaks. “Every man goes to the brothel but that isn’t pleasurable for the woman. I don’t even see their faces.”

You swallow, your eyes widening slightly.

“My friends often come here, too…” Jungkook begins, his hands slowly gripping your breast in the palm of his hands. “...and they told me how free it was here. What they’d do when they were pleasuring women here.”

Jungkook’s friends - you ponder if it’s the same friends in his world that Jungkook has in this one.

“And I want to try it.”

You yelp when you feel Jungkook’s mouth wrap a nipple into his mouth entirely, suckling as if his life depended on it. You weren’t complaining, enjoying just how needy Jungkook appeared. Jungkook groans in your breast, his free hand gripping your breast entirely while he sucks on the other. He’s unsure why he appears so stuck on your breast - or why he enjoys doing so. They didn’t have a particular taste to them - it only tasted like skin.

Jungkook’s positive that it’s your reaction to him doing so. Your moans - so sweet and velvety. The way your legs wrap around his waist a little tighter and your hand rests on the back of his head.

There’s a string of saliva connecting your nipple to his lips when Jungkook finally comes up from them. He licks his lips, eyes dark and full of lust.

You eye Jungkook has his lips place warm kisses upon your skin, dipping down to your stomach. His hands reach your shorts, tugging them down just as he gets lower and lower.

“Y-You don’t have to do that.” you say, embarrassed when Jungkook pulls down your shorts entirely.

Jungkook looks up at you for a moment before down at your exposed underwear - purple and cotton. They were cute, he thinks, especially as he witnesses the slight wet spot directly in the middle of them.

“Why not?” Jungkook places his fingers on your clothed clit, rubbing gently.

You swallow back a moan, thighs twitching. “Y-You never have…not you but. The other Jungkook.”

Jungkook wants to shake his head. The audacity of this other version of him - if he had the chance to ravish you at every given moment, he would. He didn’t understand why this world took everything for granted - being allowed to roam the streets after 9 Pm was a luxury alone that this world provided.

“But I want to.” Jungkook hooks his fingers between your panties and pushes it aside. He licks his lips at your wet clit and he hums. “So beautiful.” he murmurs.

Jungkook lowers himself to your heat and your eyes widen - he was really going to do this. You don’t have time to react, either. His tongue pokes out of his mouth and it’s already swiping along your clit.

“S-Stop…!” you yelp, jerking at the unfamiliar feeling.

Jungkook catches your legs just as they were about to crush him. “Relax, Y/N.” he laughs gleefully. “Just let me take care of you, okay?”

You bite your lip but nod. Your legs are trembling with nerves and slight embarrassment at how close Jungkook was to your sex - vaginas couldn’t look that appealing for him to appear ready to risk it all at just a taste of it.

But to Jungkook, it was. His nails dig into the skin of your thighs as he holds you into place, his tongue flat and his head shifting from side to side.

Your stomach bubbles with tension and pleasure. You aren’t aware that something like this could feel good for you - you imagined it whenever you went down on Jungkook, but there was a difference between the two genitalia.

Now, it was like Jungkook was getting rid of an itch you never knew was there. You couldn’t contain your moans any longer, nor did he want you to. There was no pleasuring any women from the brothel and in the end, even after he came, he could never feel truly satisfied with himself.

Now, it’s different. It’s more intimate - pleasuring you the way he wants to. His demeanor changes entirely from that of the soft man she’s come to love to be around - to a man hungry for what's between her legs.

“K-Kookie!” you yelp once more at feeling fingers pierce through your entrance. Even then, he doesnt stop sucking your clit.

Jungkook hums, the vibration felt throughout your lower region. His eyes dart up at you and it causes him to groan. So beautiful, he thinks. The look of pure bliss on your face, eyes fluttering closed as pleasure shoots through you.

Jungkook leans back to watch intently at the way your pussy tightens around his fingers. He pumps in and out, your juices coating not only his fingers, but down his palm and to his wrists.

“I wish I can stay here with you forever.” Jungkook says, adding another finger to fill you even more. “I would treat you better. I would never make you cry.”

Jungkook is such a smooth talker, you think . But even so, you believed him. His eyes are much softer and even now as he’s fucking his fingers inside of you, he’s still so loving.

“Kook - shit!” Jungkook connects his lips back onto your already swollen clit and is determined to make you cum.

Your hands grip along the bedsheets, your thighs trembling. It was all too much to handle right now. Each time your hips would buck, Jungkook would just push you back down onto the mattress and plunge his fingers even deeper.

“I know you’re about to cum.” Jungkook purrs, then goes back to lapping your clit, his eyes watching your every emotion. His fingers are hitting your spot so sweetly that you can’t hold it back anymore, releasing the tension from deep inside of you with a shriek.

Jungkook’s chest is soaked entirely, but he couldn’t care any less. Instead, he removes his fingers from inside of you and licks them clean.

Your thighs are trembling even more now, your eyes closing and your chest heaving in an attempt to catch your breath.

There was no way Jungkook never done this before. Even from a different world, Jungkook had to have some similar characteristics of the other Jungkook - determined to make you cum regardless if it was never his mouth or tongue, not stopping until he had.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks you, kissing your lips gently. You tasted yourself on him.

You hum a lazy response.

“So cute.” Jungkook smiles. “Are you tired? Hungry? “ he tilts his head for a response. “I can go get those sugar things you like with the chocolate filling-“

“I want you to fuck me before we think about eating.” you sigh, tone serious. Your eyes flutter open until they’re no longer blurry.

Jungkook’s cheek flush at your words. “You don’t even look like you’re capable of-“

Jungkook’s left stunned when you manage to flip him on his back, hovering right above him. “Just needed a few seconds is all.” you say to him. “I really want to taste you, too but…I’m really impatient.”

Jungkook nods hastily as you go to remove his pants.

“I will next time. Promise.”

Jungkook isn’t upset about you not returning the favor - he didn’t expect you to. Having the opportunity to do anything with you was what he truly desired.

“Don’t we need some form of protection?” Jungkook asks when you’re hovering above him, ready to bring him into you entirely.

“I’m on birth control.” You shake your head with a giggle and Jungkook only appears more confused.

“What’s that?”

You tilt your head. “There’s no birth control in your world?”

Jungkook shakes his head slowly, trying to ponder how anyone can control something like-

Jungkook gasps, feeling you entirely. You’re so warm and wet and his mind is going crazy at feeling you entirely raw.

“The chances of getting pregnant are low when on birth control.” you explain, placing both of your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. “So it should be okay.”

Jungkook was going to take your word for it. His hands find your waist and it holds on it for support.

Your hips begin to rise and fall at a rhythmic pace, wet skin slapping against his own. Soon moans filled the room, both yours and his - and Jungkook wasn’t going to hide how good you were making him feel.

“Feel…so…good…” Jungkook huffs with each bounce on his cock. His eyes fight to focus on something for longer than a few seconds, but he can’t. Your breast bounces in his face and he tries to catch a nipple but fails a few times. Your face is so beautiful, contorted with pleasure as you take him.

“Does it?”

You lean back, your palms on his thighs. Your feet are pressed firmly onto the mattress and you continue your bouncing.

Jungkook hisses, the next position allowing him to go a bit deeper in you. You knew what you were doing, knowing exactly how to pleasure him just right. Jungkook wants to harm the other version of him - how could you go elsewhere when everything he needed was right here?

Jungkook opens his eyes to look at you and he grunts all over again. Your pussy is dripping all over him, creaming his cock so lovingly. There’s a white ring around his cock, evident of how much you were loving this.

“You’re so-“

“Beautiful?” you finished the sentence for Jungkook, giggling. You clench around him and Jungkook hisses.

“It’s true. You are.”

Your heart swells at his words - they aren’t just sex words. Often he would tell you how beautiful he thought you were and of course you were smitten. You thought it was your Jungkook, not this new Jungkook from a different world.

Jungkook allows his hands to roam your naked skin, goosebumps running along his arms. He hisses with a slight shake of his head. “You’re too g-good at this.”

“So were you.” you giggle, grinding against him. “Surprised you never pleasured a girl before.”

“I learn fast.” Jungkook licks his lips, pressing a thumb against your swollen clit, satisfied when you flinch.

While Jungkook's right hand plays with your clit, his left places itself on your ass and squeezes.

Jungkook flickers his eyes up st your face to find that you’re already looking at him. He gives a slight grin - the thrust upwards.

“Fuck, s-stop!” your body flushes with heat. “I was supposed to make you cum this time!”

“You are.” Jungkook hooks both of his arms beneath your thighs and then on your hips to keep you steady. “This birth control means I can cum in you?”

You bite your lip and nod and that's all the confirmation Jungkook needs.

Jungkook begins to pound into you, his pace entirely alarming and there's no build up to it. All he knows is that he’s wanted you for as long as he could remember and in this world he had you - you and whatever birth control was.

Soon the room is filled with wet squelching of your pussy being stuffed so full mixed with Jungkook’s grunts and your whimpers. Your arms wrap around Jungkook’s neck for support and this has Jungkook peppering your skin with kisses.

Jungkook doesn’t stop his pounding, not even when you're trembling and scratching along his back. He only snickers at your actions, far too enthralled in this moment that he doesn’t care what pain you might cause him.

“I-I don’t think-“

“Sshhh,” Jungkook presses his lips on yours to silence your whining. His teeth clap on your bottom lip, tugging slightly. “I know you can take it, baby.”

You came - an embarrassing moment for you. You didn’t hold in the shriek as you do so and it was entirely Jungkook’s fault - his insane stamina, his soft kisses on your skin and the dark whisper of a pet name.

Jungkook groans, your cum dripping out of you and onto him entirely. He could never get enough of you and each thrust has him hating the version of him that left you here crying.

“Gonna cum,” Jungkook huffs, kissing your face entirely. Your eyes are closed tightly and a few whimpers are releasing from your lips due to the overstimulation.

You clench around him as tight as you could to get Jungkook to cum and it works. A few sloppy thrusts and a deep moan later, Jungkook’s cumming deep inside of you - a wave of emotion shudders through his body.

You fall limp against Jungkook while your eyes flutter close. “So tired.” you murmur.

Jungkook places a kiss upon your forehead. “You don’t want those sugar things with the filling?”

You grumble, “It sounds like you want them.”

Jungkook does.

“I’ll put an order for them to be delivered.” you lift yourself and sigh. “How about you just take my phone and go get it? You remember the way?”

Jungkook nods his head and soon, you’re sleeping soundly on the bed.

Jungkook licks his lips as he gets dressed. Currency was different in your world. Though he worked, there was only a certain amount he could ever earn from his job, the rest went towards whatever the Government saw fit - funding the brothel and new technology to advance the world. Even being able to go somewhere and eat was a luxury - it was something the Government also controlled; when and how they got their food.

Jungkook opens the door to the room and stops dead in his tracks.

Jungkook blinks at the familiar face of himself. There’s a piercing on his eyebrow and lip and it causes Jungkook to tilt his head at it.

“What the fuck-“

Jungkook reacts entirely too fast, even before his mind can think of what to do. He watches as the version of himself falls back and holds his nose, blood pooling from his hand.

“You don’t belong here.” Jungkook murmurs , his voice dangerously low. “You don’t deserve her.”

Jungkook is surprised that you don’t awake - maybe you were that exhausted. He doesn’t stop punching until the version of him is unconscious and he’s covered in an alarming amount of blood.

Jungkook huffs. He grabs the versions of him arms and begins to drag him inside the room. He glances at your sleeping figure and feels an emotion go through him. He wants to love you the way you deserve - to care for you like he should be able to.

And with this Jungkook here, he never could.

Jungkook pushes towards the mirror, the ripple effect telling him that there was still time.

There’s a moan - he was waking up. Jungkook curses mentally to himself and pushes as hard as he could to this world’s Jungkook until he’s fully through the mirror.

Now, all he had to do was wait until it was time for the portal to be closed.

Jungkook’s eyes open, shooting straight up. His eyes look around his surroundings - where the fuck was he?

This wasn’t his room - no, it couldn’t be. It was so dull, dark. Plain - where were the lights he had on his bed? Where were the mirrors he placed up?

Jungkook’s eyes the large window outside, noticing that lights were peaking through. There was a digital clock flashing red numbers. He shakes his head. “What the hell…?”

Jungkook turns towards the mirror in front of him, eyes wide as it begins to crack. He shields himself with his hands as mirror pieces begin to fly on him suddenly, the mirror breaking out of thin air.

Jungkook releases a deep breath, hammer in hand. His chest heaves, the mirror shards surrounding him entirely.

“Kookie?!”

You run inside the room, head flailing around to see what the commotion was. “How did the mirror…” your eyes glance down to the hammer in Jungkook’s hands.

It was now 6 A.M, Jungkook notes, and it was time for his world to wake and go on with their lives - without him.

“I thought you said you were gonna go shower?” Jungkook drops the hammer and turns towards you. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

You sigh, shoulders relaxing. “It’s okay.” you say. “Is…is the portal gone?”

Jungkook nods his head, for now at least. He’s positive there was a way for him to return through a different mirror - but he had no intentions to. As long as the Utopian world Jungkook didn’t know how to return, he was satisfied.

“Good.” you smile at Jungkook, a genuine smile that warms his heart.

Good - it was good. Now Jungkook could have you like he always has - no strict rules, no Government forcing him to marry a woman he didn’t want.

Just you and him - you & this Jungkook - forever.

@seokjinkismet @bloodline1632 @babycandy111

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