#ive got even a little fluff

[gilded-gheists]

My feelings towards ao3 this morning.

[sunnami]

❝watch me, don't touch me, love me, don't hurt me.❞

[title is from ive's accendio. gif not mine.] summary. you are the fop of the wizarding society, known for your shallowness and careless display of wealth, but as hogwarts faces another threat, the marauders and lily, find themselves drawn to you and the secrets hidden under your facade. (harry just wants to know what is going on.)

pairing/s. marauders x reader. (james potter/lily evans/remus lupin/sirius black/reader.)

wc. 24.1k.

tags. enemies to lovers, angst, hurt but the comfort is later, fluff(ish), i try slow burn for the first time (it hurts.), this is highly self-indulgent idgaf, set during goblet of fire but i decide what goes, voldemort isn't the only character who can revive from the dead, BITCH. OH, LMAO I FORGOT, THIS IS FOR THE DILF AND MILF LOVERS SDKJFHSF they're married, but remus and sirius keep their name for legal and plot reasons. adult marauders and adult reader! and i was careful this time to not use any specific pronouns or gendered terms so everyone can enjoy the pain!! every1 is hurting 2nite. proofread kind of, so we die like. . . harry potter?

cws. here we go... canon-typical violence, vivid description of injuries, pain, and blood, emotional abuse, trauma, self-destructive tendencies, minor character death (non-canon), pureblood society practices, voldemort is his own warning, brief mention of war, brief scene with abducted children, panic attacks, depictions of mental illness, suic!dal thoughts, bellatrix lestrange is also her own warning, morally-grey reader.

a/n: this is inspired by my most favorite finnick odair fic EVER! obviously, i won't ever reach that level of greatness, but i've had this idea in my head ever since i read that story. sometimes, i just want to cry at night to feel something, LMFAO. halfway through writing this story, i got insecure, so thank you to this eye-opening comment on reddit that i found that will forever change how i look at reader inserts: “for me, a reader should be faceless, but not soulless.”

to my dearest friends and readers, i hope you enjoy this world that i've written for you ueueue. (the next and final part is fluffier, i promise.) will upload to ao3 soon!

act i. dear god, please save the little man.

“RITA, DARLING, do get your wretched little quill for this one. I heard from a wee birdie that Vittoria Zabini was spotted in Rome, and not just wearing last season’s designer collection, but on her honeymoon, of all things! Can you believe it, dearest? If I remember correctly, this must be husband number five now.”

Like a wingless canary in a gilded cage, you are forced once again to sing for red-lipped witches and their grating laughter, and for wizards with their fat bellies, graying hair, and leering eyes. How kind of Narcissa Malfoy to host these decrepit creatures in her manor garden—and thrust the role of main attraction onto you. There you are, lonesome badger, dressed in the finest tulle for everyone to ogle at. A ballerina in a music box, turning, and turning, and turning.

(When will your cursed lullaby finally end?)

Isadora Bulstrode cackles. “Gold-digging wench must be at it again.”

As predicted, Rita Skeeter greedily whips out her Quick-Quotes Quill. The bloodthirsty journalist preys hungrily at your every word—and you’re more than willing to satiate the irritable, little pest. “Riveting.” She pushes her glasses upwards with a quirk of her lips. “We may have tomorrow’s front page in our hands.” 

Lavinia Nott brings the teacup to her mouth, her gaze slicing towards you. “Do tell us more. Where ever do you get your information from?”

You hide a coy smile behind the fine porcelain. “Why, Lavinia dearest, if I reveal my secret now, I might have to kill you!” The drove of ladies giggle amongst themselves as Lavinia sips her tea impassively. You play these people like a fiddle, and they’re none the wiser. But even vile women have to play their parts in the cruel world forged by mad men. Yours happens to be the most ill-fated of them all. 

“A shame you decided not to pursue the same path as your mother, but that is alright—not every one is fit to work.” The Selwyn matron raises her brow, offering you a tight-lipped smirk.

“Oh, Elinor, my love, I’m surprised you’d even suggest such a horrible thing!” Your grin grows wicked and wider. You know perfectly what the wizarding society thinks of you: the orphaned heir, the shallow socialite who only cares for gallivanting about in pureblooded extravaganzas. A status you’ve so carefully fashioned; utterly beloved and adored by these people, flowers falling at your feet with so much as a whisper from your lips. 

Your gaze drifts to a familiar crowd of people to the side. It’s the pack of lions and The-Boy-Who-Lived. There they are, the marauding bunch and their displays of loyalty and whatnot; hideously coordinated outfits, but capturing the world’s attention constantly and effortlessly. 

How repulsive.

In spite of that, you are intrigued. They are the section that plays out of tune in the orchestra you have been conducting for years.

And so you bid your goodbyes to the witches; they fawn and beg for you to stay for an hour more. You pout your lips and say with faux sympathy, hand flying to your chest.  “Oh, don’t worry, my dears! I’ll be back soon enough after greeting some of the other guests. You lovely ladies might tire of me if I stay for too long.”

Melina Traverse brushes you off. “We could never! You know you’re like family to us, pet!”

With a delighted gasp, you say, “Don’t tell Narcissa, but you’ve always been my favorite Slytherin.” The venom flows endlessly from your lips. You owe your life to only a handful of people. Narcissa Malfoy, who raised you when your mother no longer could, is one of them. Finally, you’re able to sneak away from their freshly manicured talons as they tittle-tattle amongst themselves.

Once your back is turned to the rest of them, you roll your eyes until your head begins hurting. 

What a bunch of insufferable fools. 

Still, the show curtains are wide open and the sun is yet to set. You have another audience that is awaiting your next number. 

“Oh, my, my, my! Is it truly the Chosen One in our midst?” You approach the horrid family of Gryffindors—nearly doubling over in laughter at the speed with which their faces fall at the sight of you. How refreshing, you think to yourself. It’s been so long since you’ve seen people who wore their hearts on their sleeves. “Cissa and I didn’t think you’d even respond to our invitation—but this is just brilliant! Lily, darling! How long has it been? That dress looks utterly divine! Is that Charmeuse silk? The purple simply brings out the color in your eyes! And your skin, my love! Just glowing! Tell me—have you been trying those snail facials? I hear they’re all the rage nowadays.”

Sirius grimaces, cheeks turning ashen. “Bloody hell, I’m going to need a drink for this. A strong one, too.” 

“You’re at a garden party, Sirius darling,” you remind in jest, flamboyantly motioning to the grazing table. “The elves are serving Darjeeling, jasmine, chamomile, berry blends, spiced orange, silver needle, and my personal favorite, chocolate mint!” There are strings of lights wrapped around the tree branches; floating lanterns and the hydrangeas creeping on the stone walls. You put a hand over your heart, smiling knavishly. “From the Malfoy family, to yours, we sincerely hope you enjoy your brunch.” 

Lily deeply inhales as she intertwines her fingers with James’s, a polite smile on her face—an odd pang in your heart at the show of solidarity. (She questions how sincere can a Malfoy really be.) “Y-Yes, well, it’s so good to see you, too. We’re grateful for the invitation, especially since it’s for a rather honorable cause.” 

Ah, pure-hearted creatures really do get on your nerves. Lion hearts; words dripping in honey, limitless bravado. You’ve changed your mind, you’re sick of it all. A flash of vindictive glee crosses your face as you abruptly grab her hand, wrenching it away from her husband’s. “We just knew you’d see it that way! You probably see yourself in those Muggle children, eh?”

Lily recoils, as if struck by hot iron, shoulders tensing; slowly, she peels away her hand from yours, long lashes blinking away her shock.  “You and Narcissa must be raising a lot of money, then.” She eyes the marble fountain adorned in white roses, the harmonizing gnomes nearby, self-playing harps, and the scrutinizing stares from afar. “I never knew you cared so much about Muggle children.”

“Well, I suppose it must be done for all the pudgy-cheeked brats in the world,” You callously wave away her words with a sigh. Unbeknownst to most, all the charity proceeds come from your own Gringotts account. That is the one real thing left in your miserable life.  “As staff at Hogwarts, the children must come first, wouldn’t you agree, Lily flower?”

“Quite,” replies Lily, lips firmly pursed.

James enters the fray, hand snaking around Lily’s waist; jaw taut, seeming to regret ever entering the snake den. “Have you met our son, Harry, already?” He turns to the fourteen-year-old at his left side, gently patting Harry’s back with a crooked smile. “Haz, this is an old classmate of ours.” James gestures to you, and you offer the Potter spawn an amused smile as he blinks owlishly at you. The poor thing has gone frigid from the wintry cold, despite the summer sun overhead and blooming coneflowers; and you wonder if he must have run into Draco and Lucius before coming to the garden.

So this is the child the Dark Lord failed to kill, you muse. You only wish that you could have seen that monster fall to the ground lifelessly, defeated by an infant and his courageous parents. How fitting for men like Lucius Malfoy to follow in his footsteps; the blind leading the blind. Your grin stretches from ear to ear as you take his hand in yours. Clearly, he’s never held a girl’s hand before, as he limply shakes your hand, awkwardly spluttering his greetings. “What an honor it is to finally meet the savior of the wizarding world.” 

“Why, you look just like James when he was younger, always strutting around the corridors.” Your eyes drift to the lightning scar on his forehead, a testament to his and Lily’s survival against the killing curse. “And such clear-cut emerald eyes; truly your mother’s son. Tell me, Harry dearest, you must be quite the heartbreaker at Hogwarts.”

His doe-eyes harden, and your brow quirks in curiosity. (So the littlest lion can growl, after all.) “Oh. . . not really.” His hand hangs back at his side, fists coiling. The robins chirp merrily as they fly by, his parents carefully watching the scene unfold; water endlessly splashing in the fountain. Harry’s voice deepens as he continues, “I couldn’t be. My friends and I barely have time for anything else. There always seems to be something going on at the castle, apparently.”  

“How interesting—Elsie!” You bark at the quivering house elf as Harry stumbles on his words. “Get Mister Potter and his company a plate of macarons—serve them our finest tea, as well.” 

Harry winces as the elf apparates at once. “There’s r-really no need for—”

Your gaze, sharp as a knife, slices to him, as the corners of your painted lips bend contemptuously. “Have you heard the news, dearheart?”

Harry looks to his father before shrugging. “I don’t think so.”

“If Mister Lupin here has so graciously informed you,” you begin tantalizingly, eyes cutting to the rugged werewolf at Lily’s side; his back stiffening at the mention of his name, “Otherwise, keep this between you and me, Harry darling. Hogwarts will be hosting a rather important event this year—and I do love a good party—so you must have noticed the rise in appearances from the Ministry.” You gesture to the top Aurors at the DMLE towering over Harry, Sirius and James. “More than that,” you continue with a sly cant to your voice. “There will be a few new additions to Hogwarts’ staff. Among them, of course—is yours truly!”

“And to do what, exactly?” Sirius blurts out incredulously.

“Be a teacher, of course!” you feign ignorance, bashfully furrowing your brows. “Why else?”

“Brilliant!” Sirius chuckles scornfully. “So, the children will be learning about French designers and frilly dresses then, I presume?

“Is that truly all you think of me?” you ask, gasping melodramatically as you circle the rim of your empty teacup. 

“You want to know what I think? Or what everyone thought behind your back at Hogwarts?” Sirius scoffs with a cock of his head. “You’ve always been the belle of the ball, no bloody doubt about that. But I’ve always wondered if there was anything more to your head than just air.” 

He runs a hand through his dark curls, lips twisting into a sneer. “But I reckon nothing has changed since then. You’re just the same insufferable, vapid wench as you’ve always been.”

“Sirius. . .” Remus quietly calls. “That’s enough.” 

Your expression falters—but your mask cannot afford even a moment of rest. A jarring note in the lullaby plays as the ceramic ballerina stops turning. You let the minutes pass by fleetingly; it seems the self-playing chordophones have changed their tune, as well. You watch as the canary diamonds in your bracelet glint against the sunlight. (You are growing tired of the blinding show lights, unrelenting crowd, and never-ending play. Where is the reprieve, you wonder, for the tormented primadonna and her aching soul?)

The strings are now dipped in blood as your tears polish the stage. Your joints have twisted, bent, and danced. You wonder, how long must it be until you are rid of the starring role?

You muster a coy smile, fluttering your lashes at the heir of the most noble and ancient House. “Such crude language, Mister Black,” you say, albeit your voice has gone mellow; nails drumming against the table surface as the guests mingle with one another. The unbearably dull conversations buzz in your ear. You notice Draco and Astoria Greengrass heading for the glasshouse. You consider stealing her lace parasol and whacking Sirius with it, and the thought fills you with immense joy. 

Unfortunately, they are your guests, and you are nothing if not the most polite host. “Perhaps, I am not the only one who hasn’t grown out of their immature habits,” you say, eyeing his shoulder-length hair, spiky ear piercings, and leather jacket. That damned leather jacket of his. It irks you that he and his kind can show insolence freely without bearing any repercussions. (But you’d die before you ever feel envy for a man like Sirius Black.) The sun fades behind the clouds, and your mask slips perfectly into place once more.

“What is it that happened again? Between you and Severus Snape in sixth-year?” You tap your chin pensively, taking cruel satisfaction in the stutter in Sirius’s breath and Remus’s parted lips, ever stupefied. You gaze fiendishly at Remus. “Oh, silly me, I’ve gone off topic. Well, anyhow, I just wanted to say, I believe the students are in rather good hands this year. I just hope Dumbledore doesn’t accidentally let an infected beast roam the halls of Hogwarts.” 

Your eyes flash impishly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mister Lupin?”

Lily curls her lip viciously. “Just what exactly—?”

“Elsie has returned, master.” The house elf bows her head just as the antique bistro table is circled with macarons, cucumber sandwiches, miniature cocktail buns, and slices of pound cake. Lily retracts her hand, grinding her jaw as she swallows the words in her throat.

“You may go, Elsie, thank you.” With a guileful smirk, you levitate the teapot towards James and Harry, dutifully filling their cups; steam soon arising from the Chinese porcelain. You nod at the group. “It’s jasmine pearl,” you explain haughtily. “Carefully handcrafted tea from harvested leaves and flowers. Such exquisiteness that you won’t be able to find anywhere else.”

“Do enjoy your tea; Cissa and I made sure to spare no expense for our guests.” The teapot carefully lands back on the table. The sinfonietta ends, and so does your time with this particular audience. What misfortune, that you won’t receive your flowers for today’s performance. You pivot on your heels, flinging them a lukewarm goodbye. “Do excuse me, for I must tend to the new arrivals. I believe I see Missus Parkinson over there by the koi pond. Cissa might have my head if I neglect my responsibilities.”

You turn your head, tossing a wink at Lily. “Today, after all, is for the children.”

Alas, it is not Persephone Parkinson you head towards. 

You briefly exchange tepid pleasantries with Lavinia Greengrass before walking past the koi pond to the edges of the garden, far beyond prying eyes and ears. There, like a brooding Dementor drifting through a frozen lake, waits your true target. Sadly, it is only a dour-faced professor, a long time confrère of yours, to be precise. There are only a handful of people to whom you are indebted. Severus Tobias Snape is one of those few. 

With a flick of your wand, you covertly cast the silencing charm upon the elusive spot Severus had chosen. There is no need for these edacious vultures to prey on your conversation. They are better off with their tête-à-têtes and syrupy pikelets. You drown out the chamber orchestra’s symphony, the clinking of champagne glasses, the rustling leaves and ringing wind chimes. “Severus darling,” you say liltingly, feet shuffling to his side as you playfully ghost your palm against his nape. He barely spares you a glance as a breeze courses through the rippling lake water. “You’re missing out on the festivities, you know.”

“Have you finally finished tormenting Narcissa’s visitors?” he drawls, at long last acknowledging your presence and sharply raising a brow at your saccharine-sweet smile.

“Why, I’d never dare to do such a thing,” you reply with a theatrical sway of your head. “I simply conversed with the ladies and had a delightful run-in with your old flame, Lily. Do you remember her, my sweet? Ghastly red hair, pale skin, and, oh, those green eyes. It must be infuriating to look like that,” you rattle away to the only entity willing to listen to you in his company: the wind.

“Spare me,” he drones, lips curved impatiently.

You moue. “Ever the bore, you are, Severus. Shall I fetch you a platter of brandy snaps?”

“Shall I sit around while I wait?” Snape’s lips contort into a sour grimace, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “The Dark Lord himself might even find time to rise from his grave.”

“Severus dear, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to tell me something.” You eye him slyly, mouth tipping into a smirk as a dragonfly hovers by the waterline, avidly stalked by the dwarf frog on a lily pad. “So,” you pry, “did you have something important to tell me? I promised Mister Goyle I’d have a drink with him.”

The frog splashes into the lake, and the dragonfly flutters away without a care. Severus clandestinely slips a piece of paper into your palm as he swivels around, dark cloak billowing. “Ensure that nothing traces back to you,” he snarls. “Clearly I do know better, Severus.” You toy with the paper between your fingers, a sense of exhilaration running up your spine. “Not to worry,” you say with a clipped smile, a serpentine glare in your eyes, “I always do as I am told.”

(Severus, not for the first time in his life, wonders if the Sorting Hat made a mistake when it sorted you into Hufflepuff.) 

act ii. tonight, let’s start the masquerade.

THE NIGHT GROWS weary, and so do the alleys of Knockturn; neglected as your hooded figure navigates through the brick road, only the caged owls and flickering stars to notice your presence. You fainly traipse amongst the shadows, a moment of surrender from the spotlight and malignant eyes; a brief interlude in the performance. Past the hanging doll heads in the windows of Borgin & Burkes, you find a lonely shop. Inside the locket of your ring, lies a slip of paper that had been given to you earlier this afternoon. Well, Severus, you think to yourself, idly twisting the ring on your finger, let’s see where you sent me to this time.

And so, the stage actor calls for a costume change. “Alohomora.”

With one last glance at the dimly-lit passage, you enter the boutique. The brass shop bell accompanies your entrance, but no owner appears to greet you—and if there was, well, you have quite a unique way of saying hello. Your fingers feather across the dusty bookshelves, eyes raking through the broken staircase, the faint scent of ginger, rosemary, and mugwort pervades the room; a shattered crystal ball sits in the center of the shop desk, ripped paintings on the wall. A grimace pulls at your lips as you come across a familiar ivory mask. A Death Eater mask—it’s warm to touch; recently worn, perchance. You bury the strong urge to set it on fire. 

There’s a shift in the air, a creak in the floorboards—in an instant, you whip your wand out from its leather holster. 

“Reveal yourself,” you whisper curtly.

To the naked eye, there is only one intruder in the dingy parlor. To you, however, there is an obscure silhouette of a stranger covered by a glimmering veil. You hold onto your wand resolutely. If it was an enemy, you’d be blown into the walls by now. “This isn’t an ensemble stage, you know,” you chuff impatiently, “I’m not fond of sharing the spotlight with lineless extras.” 

The disillusionment charm slowly unveils, and you wait unblinking, until you see a familiar face standing before you. Mid-length curly hair that falls over gray, dagger-like eyes, the irksome scent of tobacco, and a frightening similarity to his elder brother. 

There are exactly five people you’d risk your life for, and right now, you’re digging the tip of your wand into their neck.

“Mister Regulus Black,” you greet with a playful edge to your voice, eyes narrowing. “Severus didn’t mention we’d be running into each other tonight.” 

“That’s because I didn’t tell Sev I’d be here,” says Regulus, dimples poking out as he swats your wand away from his throat. “I might go mad if I have to stay inside for another bloody week, there’s only so many times I can re-read Good Omens—and by the way, did anyone ever tell you how dramatic you are? Lineless extras, really?” 

You hide a fond smile with a roll of your eyes, whirling around to browse the glass cabinets and leather journals on the table, returning to the task at hand. “And so you thought going outside and risking someone seeing you in the open was a good idea? Reggie darling, I often think about the possibility of Walburga dropping you on the head as an infant.” 

Regulus shoves his hands inside his trouser pockets as he hovers over your shoulders like a lost, overgrown duckling. “Wasn’t it Cissa’s soirée today? Did you jinx the statues like I told you to?” 

“Who do you think I am?” you say haughtily, pausing in your search to half-heartedly glare at him. And after a moment’s pause, you jerk your shoulder and coyly respond with a side-smirk, “Of course I did. The young Mister Flint nearly screamed his head off.” You hum reminiscently, “truthfully, it’s been quite a while since I heard Draco laugh like that these days. For breakfast, I hear about the Granger girl, and then for lunch, I hear about the Weasley children, and for dinner, it’s an hour-long spiel on the famed Harry Potter.” 

Regulus chortles in amusement as he hops onto the shop counter, kicking back his chunky boots. “And, then? Did you see my brother?” 

“Oh, darling, I did more than that,” you mutter offhandedly, leafing through the paraphernalias and foul-smelling potion flasks. 

“How was he? Is he doing well? Merlin, I think it’s been so long since I saw his face.” There’s a lapse of silence between you and Regulus. A lizard scurries across the room, chasing after a line of ants. The younger wizard taints the quietude with a long, frustrated sigh. “Sorry, I just. . .” He slumps his shoulders in resignation. “I wouldn’t have to ask so many questions if. . . if I could just. . .”

“I don’t understand why I have to hide from my own family.” With a jagged whisper, he says, “I feel like I’m losing my mind. Like I can’t believe that I’m really here, I don’t even know if I exist sometimes.” 

You grimace as you turn to look at him, hand flinching as if wanting to reach out to him. Instead, you avert your gaze and continue scouring the room. “It’s for—”

“My own good, I know,” Regulus blows a strand of hair away from his forehead. He jumps off the counter with a hardened stare. You glance at his back as he bends to pick at the marks on the floor. At times like this, you remember how small and young Regulus had been when you found him moribund from lake inferis. What a cruel price to pay in exchange for his survival, you think. 

For Regulus Black has to remain dead to the wizarding world, stuck in an interminable masquerade, waiting until the hour is up for his performance. 

All the world’s a stage, and for the best of the actors and actresses, it seems the production never ends. 

“How long do you think it’s going to stay like this? For you, me, Sev? For Cissa?” As he stands on his toes to inspect the top of a dusty cupboard, Regulus veers his head to peek at your expression, frowning when he finds none. (You’ve no answers for him, after all; the entirety of your life was spent wondering that exact same question. All you know is that the show must go on until the audience tires of the starving artist.) “Never mind, let’s just focus on finding whatever you were trying to find here.” He walks past his reflection in the vintage carved mirror. “What are we looking for, anyway?” 

You wish to offer solace to a cherished friend, but duties are meant to be fulfilled. For now, to do what is right must come first. Your fingers slither up the side of a bookcase, a wooden ladder resting against the shelves. The mahogany is freshly varnished, the stench of glue is prominent, and deep scratches indent the floor. It’s an empty treasure cove, barely anything displayed on the racks. You grit your teeth as you realize it’s been well-maintained compared to the obsolete state of the room. “Here,” you rasp, abruptly snapping your head to look back at him.

He furrows his brow. “What?” 

You beckon him to the corner of the room from where you stand, wooden planks creaking as you push at the bookcase. “Help me with this, Regulus. There could be something behind it.” You clench your jaw as you lean your weight onto the cabinet frame.

“Why don’t we just, I don’t know,” Regulus cocks his head as he waves his wand in the air. “Use magic?” he offers discreetly, as though divulging a century-old secret. “I suggest Bombarda for maximum efficiency.” 

You stare at him vacantly. “Regulus dearheart, I hold a stupendous amount of tolerance for you, but there is absolutely no way we are drawing attention to ourselves via explosion spells in the dead of the night.” 

He grins boyishly before ushering you away. “Alright, alright, I was only taking the mickey out of you.” Soon after, Regulus deftly mutters a levitation charm, his wand steadfast as the bookcase slowly detaches from the floor. You take a couple of steps backward, lips pursed as you observe Regulus concentrate on his work. 

You note to yourself to have a conversation about Regulus’s restlessness with Severus. It could pose a liability and pull the curtains on the entire pasquinade. “Careful,” you keep a tight watch on Regulus’s pinched brows, his hovering wand, and the steadily moving bookshelf. 

“Like taking jelly slugs from a first-year,” he says flippantly, beaming at you as his dark curls sweep over his eyes. 

You give him an exasperated scowl before side-stepping his quip as you descry a faint outline of a door in the plastered wall. You feel a rumble in the ground, muffled noises behind the shrouded entrance.  “Ready your wand, Regulus,” you say grimly, hand reaching for the doorknob, looking back in time to catch his smirk fade into a distant expression, “I believe what awaits won’t be as simple as that.” 

A grave tenor disquiets the room, your free hand already grasping for your wand. Regulus stands at your side, nodding as you take a sharp breath. He offers his back to you, in spite of the looming danger. (A sadistic part of you finds comfort in his presence tonight, but neither of you can truly share the burdens of your harrowing façades. Tomorrow, you play the lone star once more; and he, the dead brother and son. But today, you must simply share the stage.) 

You twist the knob until a click pierces the heavy silence.

You wait with a bated breath, expecting creatures and spells to come hurling in your direction. The room ahead is enshrouded with darkness. You share a terse nod with Regulus as a ball of light appears at the tip of your wands. Regulus moves to take a step forward, but you block him with your arm. “I’ll go first,” you say breathily, curtly glancing at the Death Eater Mask. “It could be cursed the moment we step inside.” Regulus presses his lips into a white line, clearly unhappy with your decision, but relents nonetheless. 

Rough, travertine flooring begins where the woodwork ends; a gust of wind howls into the dark chamber. Wordlessly, you call for your patronus to investigate inside; thin, silvery wisps floating in the air, its light hauntingly beautiful against the unilluminated dungeon. You hear heavy chains dragging across the ground and the harmony of timid footfalls. A drop of water falls onto the cracked stone. Regulus grinds down on his jaw as he readies his wand. 

After an eternity of waiting, you snap your wand to set the torches alight. 

A pronounced chill runs up your spine; a stutter in your breath. You nearly stagger at the sight unveiled before you. If you had been a weaker wizard, you’d have dropped your wand already. “This. . .” you say hoarsely, eyes wide, blood simmering in your veins. 

Children.

Little ones as young as ten-years-old, barely coming up to your stomach, staring up at you with bloodshot eyes. Their skinny arms are covered in grime and wear pathetic rags for clothes. Moss grows in every corner of the room. Emaciated mattresses on metal beds. “Bloody hell,” Regulus growls, chest heaving. “What the fuck?” 

“It’s a prison,” you whisper, horrified. There must be more than twelve children standing before you. Bile rises to your throat. You worry about your wand breaking in half, but the overwhelming sense of dread traps you in position. 

“Are. . . are you with the bad men?” A brave, young girl with owlish eyes protectively steps forward in front of her companions. “No,” you answer gently, bending down on one knee to meet her eyes. You were neither good, or bad, but there is no magic on earth that would make you harm these children. 

Regulus calls your name. “They’re Muggles,” he hisses angrily. “I don’t sense any magic from any of them.” He exhales in frustration. “What the hell are they doing with Muggle children?” 

You grind down on your teeth, nearly dizzy with anger. You forgo a response to Regulus in favor of clasping your cloak around the trembling child. Soon after, you blanket the room in a warming charm. “Tend to their wounds,” you say sharply. “I’ll see what I can do about the chains.” And you will do something about those shackles, if it’s the last thing you do. “We’re going to get you out of here, I promise,” you tell the girl, stolid as you pat her head.

Except, the brass bell rings once more and everyone stiffens in alert. The children begin whimpering amongst themselves. Slow, deliberate footsteps reverberate from the shop into the icy-cold room. The hairs on the back of your neck rise.

“Move out of the way!” you yell, veins straining against your neck, just as you’re blown into the stone walls. 

Regulus screams out your name, but you barely hear anything over the ringing in your ears; through blurring vision, you see the children and Regulus unharmed. Relief floods through you as you sluggishly rise from the floor. There’s a large crater in the wall from the impact; luckily, the tethers to the chains were demolished, as well. “Get them to the safehouse,” you order, blood trickling from your lips. You hardly feel your arms and legs; there’s an ache in the back of your head, your spine feels as though it’s been snapped in half. You’re definitely going to feel this tomorrow. Regulus hesitates to leave, hands laid on the shoulders of the children as he glowers at the newcomer. “Now!” you bellow gutturally. 

A muscle ticks in Regulus’s jaw, but as he finally apparates with as many children as he can, you finally stop holding your breath. “It’s okay,” you reassure the wee boys clinging onto each other for comfort, limping to their side. “I’m rather strong, you know. Stronger than any of the bad men.”

In every duel, you allow yourself to be hit only once—driven by your inhuman desire to feel something other than the  emptiness of your unbroken charade. 

(And for years, you have waited for anyone to say these two specific words: Avada Kedavra.) 

“Go,” you instruct gently, brushing away the tendrils of hair from the little boy’s forehead. “Hide and wait until my companion comes for you.”

“And as for the ill-mannered invader,” you crane your head towards the entrance of the chamber, eyes raking over the tall figure’s bloodthirsty stance and flittering cloak. There’s a lack of silver mask, but you know well the stench of foreboding decay and malignity. At the speed of light, you aim your wand, “Confringo!”

You watch with a spiteful grin as the stranger is blasted across the room. The walls and ceilings threaten to crumble, and you can only hope that Severus won’t be too cross with you in the morning. You point your wand at the uninvited guest’s heart. Nothing will trace back to you, that much you are certain of.

After all, no one would suspect a vapid, insufferable boulevardier to be the greatest spy of the wizarding world.

A firebird caws in the distance.

And, scene.

act iii. where’s your soul? where’s your dream? do you think you’re alive?

“APPEARANCES ARE OF utmost importance.” You stand in the front of the Great Hall, sun rays streaming through the large, stained windows, wooden tables pushed to the walls; accoutered in a black velvet capelet with gold trimmings and vintage dragonhide boots.  The sleeves of your blouse are lined with handwoven, gothic lace; trousers made of the finest yellow satin. It is a testament to your House—the cete of badgers. (You seize everyone’s attention—whether the two Aurors in the corner like it or not.)

After a descanting introduction, you are given center stage before the students of Gryffindor and Slytherin. With a swing in your step and a wrest in your voice, you continue, “That is why the Headmaster, Dumbledore himself, invited me to personally facilitate this year’s Tri-Wizard Tournament. As hosts of the event, excellence is expected of us. Professor McGonagall has graciously allowed me to take charge of your lessons, particularly in the art of dancing.” Your eyes gleam as you offer the young fourth-years a graceful reverence. “And our first lesson begins straight away.”

The crowd of students transfigure into a sea of curious eyes and flabbergasted whispers. You derisively watch the chaos unfold with an amused grin. Yet, you’re not the least bit worried. You’ve charmed even a flock of Dementors before, the creatures having been drawn to your voice, ostentatious stature, and the dark depths of your soul; like a bee to a field of flowers. A class full of awkward teenagers should be more than easy for you. 

“Now, now, children,” you clap your hands as you make your way to the heart of the room, leaving a trail of softening murmurs. “The Yule Ball is a revered tradition, an exhibit of togetherness that has lasted for hundreds years.” You lift your nose up in the air as the girls look at one another, barely able to hide their giddy smiles and discreet glances across the hall. “As such, it is my venerable duty to oversee your etiquette in and out of the ballroom.”

(Sirius rolls his eyes from where he sits besides James.)

“Mister Filch, if you please.” With a flutter of your lashes and a poised smile, you beckon for the school caretaker who flounders to the gramophone. You wink at the young miss Pansy Parkinson who stares up at you in awe. Soon thereafter, you hear the soft melody of Léo Delibes’s Valse. Coppélia, you simper to yourself—a story close to your heart. (You’ve always found a winsome irony in a marionette like you dancing to the enamel-eyed girl’s song.)

“A dance, while enjoyable by one’s lonesome, is best savored with a partner,” you begin vivaciously, eyeing the gentlemen in particular. “Your date for the night must be aware that you’ve chosen them out of your own volition and undue necessity.” Your stare drifts to the coterie of young Gryffindors, tittering mischievously. “Shall we have a demonstration from the House of courage and splendor?”

“No one?” You raise a brow curiously when you’re met with silence and averted gazes. You then utter the scariest phrase a professor could say to their students: “I’ll choose the lucky student myself.” 

You survey the pack of lion cubs, drifting through the tuffs of flashing red hair; gangly boys raucously kicking and pushing at each other to volunteer for your teach-in on ballroom dancing. You flash the students a vexatious grin. “Mister Harry Potter?” you call out to the ashen-faced boy with your hand outstretched. “Why don’t we let the Chosen One set an example to his peers?” 

Hollers and cheers break out across the hall; not withholding the mirthful giggles of the doves on the other side of the room, wonderstruck by his green eyes and lightning scar. You motion for Harry to join you on the pseudo dance floor. The Weasley twins take delight in clapping and wisecracking into his ears until Harry reluctantly rises to his feet, a blooming shade of red on his neck and cheeks. 

“As you approach your partner with the grace of a majestic stag,” you acclaim to the class whilst Harry approaches you with a wry grin and hands shoved inside his robe pockets, “And not a newborn foal.” You place your hand in his, “You may now invite your lady to dance.”

“Or your beau,” you add spiritedly, eyes gleaming as Harry chokes on his saliva.

You pat his back as the music comes to a sweet-sounding crescendo. “Dancing is about connection,” you turn to the students with a stern gaze. “If your posture crumbles, there goes your confidence, as well. At all times, you must maintain eye contact,” you say sharply as you tilt Harry’s chin and correct the arch of his arms. “Remember, it’s not ballroom if there’s no trust. Lean onto one another, and then. . .” You lay your palm onto his shoulder. “The feet should follow the music.”

Unfortunately, Harry runs on two left feet and both persistently evade the music. On the umpteenth time he stumbles on your shoes, he’s appraised by snickers and low whistles from either side of the  hall. The Weasley twins in particular seem thrilled by Harry’s flailing arms and bewildered expression. Along with the two Aurors who’ve skipped their aurorly duties to patrol the castle in favor of heckling their ward. “You’re doing it wrong, James!” shouts Sirius through cupped hands, shoulders shaking in laughter. 

“Why don’t you try it, Padfoot?” Harry retorts back to him; thick hair flopping over his eyes as he grates his teeth. You’re given no warning as Harry extracts himself from your grip and stalks over to where Sirius and James sit comfortably. 

You blink, dumbfounded. “Harry dearest, I don’t believe that is necessary—!”

“Go on then,” says Harry, jerking his head. “Show us all how to do it.” 

To the side, Ron guffaws into his fist, brought nearly to tears. (Earlier he was apprehensive about the class. “We’ve got a whole new professor just for twirling around and all that girlish stuff?” he had asked in disbelief before entering the Great Hall.

“Shut your mouth, Weasley,” growls Draco Malfoy as he shoves past Harry and Hermione to head inside the hall.)

Sirius grins roguishly, having the gall to bat his eyes in confusion. “Who? Me?” He chuckles before forcibly slapping James’s back with the flat of his palm. “No, no. The honor should go to the debonair of his time.” Trenchant eyes flicker with mischief. “Have at it, James. How will the children ever learn without a proper demonstration?” 

“Go on, Sir Prongs!” exclaims one of the red-headed twins. “Show us how it’s done!” 

Alarmingly, the bespectacled man resigns to his fate, a deafening ovation as he shrugs his robes off, generously revealing his broad shoulders in a tight, black turtleneck; a leather wand holster across his chest; long legs framed by pleated trousers. You bite down on your tongue as James draws closer to you, a hint of a smirk on his lips. With an unerring arch of his back, he holds out his hand for you to take, “May I have this dance?” 

Your breath stutters—if only for a moment. One cannot deny that James Potter is deviously more appealing to the eye than the dance partners you’ve had during Narcissa’s galas. Perfectly-carved cheekbones and golden hoops dangling from his ears; bright, hazel eyes girdled by rectangular glasses. “Well,” you say, pursing your lips as you slip your palm into his. “If you must.” 

In contrast to his son, James needs little-to-no guidance from you. You’d have assumed that much, considering that both James and Sirius grew up in pure-blood customs. The warmth of his hand on your back is scalding. He spins you along to the song’s aria; the two of you gliding effortlessly through the soapstone floors. Any more closer to him and you’d be able to hear his heartbeat. “There will be lifts, turns, and dips during a waltz,” you inform the class as you demonstrate a twirl vine. “You will rise and you will fall together with your partner. Understand?” 

James chuckles at the wistful sighs and horrified groans that erupt through the Great Hall. “You’re good with the children, you know,” he remarks cheekily as he gently lowers you to the ground, hand steadfast on your waist. You hear his unsaid words clearly: Sirius thought you’d be downright rubbish at it. 

“Well, Mister Potter,” you say breathlessly, clasping your arms around his neck once more. “To some of the students here, frilly dresses and French designers are their entire world.” Your chin all but perched atop James’s shoulders; the scent of his famed Sleekeazy potion and vetiver—dew on fresh grass on a warm sunny day—fills your senses. You cast a sniffy glare in Sirius’s way, to which he responds with a raised brow. 

“Bit shallow, isn’t it?” he murmurs, chest rumbling and his breath hot on your ear. 

You scoff. “One could argue the same for a young Seeker who’s been given their first ever broom.” 

James Potter has the nerve to smile at you. And as you move to extricate yourself from his hold, James mindlessly lets his hand fall from your waist to your hip—incidentally, where you’ve been nursing a heavy fracture. Sore bruises from chasing vampires the night prior as you were out hunting allies of the Dark Lord from the first wizarding war. Although you had drowned yourself in pain relief elixirs, it seems you’re more sensitive and hurt than you thought. 

Even statues of white gold chip and fade over time—you’re reminded of this fact quite painfully. You roughly push James away from you, hissing in pain as you cradle the left side of your hip. Memories of crimson-stained teeth and rotten, pale skin flash before your eyes. You remember the stench of blood, and the feel of their nails slashing into your thighs. But most of all, you remember their ear-piercing shrieks just before you drive the stake into their chests, one by one, until you have left a graveyard of vampires in the outskirts of an abandoned mansion. 

James furrows his brow immediately as you cave in on yourself. (Even Sirius surges to his feet.) “What’s wrong?”

Occlude! Occlude—you must occlude immediately! 

With a sharp inhale, you close off your emotions for anyone else to see. “It is nothing of your concern, Mister Potter,” you respond blankly, as though your soul is locked far away. “I do believe we’re done here.” You step further away from him. Your attention shifts to the students as you fold your hands behind your back, lips curling into a virulent smile. The weight of your mask is comforting; you’ve forgotten how to breathe without it. “Now, let’s have the students pair up and practice what they’ve learned so far. I’ll have no patience for dilly-dallying and nescience on my watch. You’ll dance until I tell you to stop. You’ll practice until the soles of your feet are sore and raw.”

That, after all, is how you learned.

The class goes by accordingly; you maintain a distance from Sirius and James, turning a blind eye to their burdensome sympathy. (Gryffindors and their bleeding hearts—it always unnerves you how easily the avowed Marauders get deep under your skin.) You nip at the students’ heels, righting their poor footwork; looping the music until you are certain they’d hear it in their nightmares. To your surprise, the round-cheeked Neville Longbottom takes all your instructions in stride. From the moment that you allow Filch to lift the tonearm, the students practically fall to the floor, heaving; some forsaking their long robes and tying their hair in flimsy ponytails. 

As the students retreat from the Great Hall, you slink away into the crowd of Slytherins, desperate to avoid a particular duo of Aurors—no doubt ready to probe you with questions. A numbing panic claws at your chest; black spots swallowing your vision. Emotions—how putrid. The students’ discordant chatter overwhelms your hearing, more than the ringing in your ears. The unyielding, outré stone walls feel like they’re closing in on you. Still, you keep your head above the water, enduring every staggered breath. You must. 

What’s wrong? 

The question echoes in your head. 

Ha! 

You scream inwardly, if they only knew! 

While you had been expecting either James or Sirius to ambush you, you do not expect to see Draco Malfoy shouting your name as you flee down an empty corridor. 

The miniature Lucius Malfoy stands before you, grimacing as he clenches his fists tightly. “Are. . .” Draco’s expression contorts morosely. “Are you alright? Theo and I were worried that the blood traitor upset you.” he spits his concern as if it were acid. Little snakes and their keen eyes. 

“Mind your language, Draco,” you reply cuttingly, eyes flashing as you lift your chin. And for his question, one that you’ve been asked numerous times over the years, you have only ever had one answer. Despite the scars on your back, the tremors in your hands, the aching of your heart, and the endless bruises on your limbs, you tell him: “And do not ask what is not needed to be.” 

“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” he presses further, mouth pinched. “Don’t treat me like a dim-witted child because I’m not!” 

A hand lays on his shoulder, and to your chagrin, Severus makes his appearance, lips downturned and his gaze filled with subdued apathy. Your day is about to get worse. “Perhaps, it is best if you leave this discussion to the adults, Draco.” Snape drones, leaving no room for debate. He tightens his grip on the younger wizard. “I will not be inconvenienced to explain to Minerva as to why you were dawdling in the corridors.” 

In true Malfoy fashion, Draco sneers in disdain. He rips himself out of Snape’s grasp with a scoff. As he storms past you, you sigh and pat his side. 

When Draco disappears into the corner, you release a deep breath as you prepare for the onslaught to come. “Just get it over with, Severus,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, the pounding in your head growing more unbearable by the second. 

You see his nostrils flare as Severus turns to glare at you. “I wonder,” he says through gritted teeth. “If you are actually capable of following direct orders—of using that near-empty brain of yours!” His upper lip curls back into a snarl, as he scours the empty hallway for any prowling ears. “Your stunt made it to the Daily Prophet. You were asked to proceed tactfully, were you not?” 

You lean against the wall, rubbing at the temples of your head. “And I’ve done my part. Every last one of them—dead by my hands. A problem you failed to deal with for the last two months. That I settled last night. Remind me why you’re still chittering into my ear, Severus darling?”

“Do not play coy with me,” he replies brusquely. “I’ve heard the students tattling about it as though it were the most interesting event in their pathetic, insolent lives. The Embris Mansion burnt down to the ground. There are talks of a vigilante, a good-for-nothing do-gooder. You got sloppy!”

“And if I did—so what?” You retaliate, chest heaving as you step into his face. Truthfully, this isn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation with him. Over the years you have left some sort of mark on your work. Not a phoenix, but a firecrest. Wings outstretched in flames. All eyes are on the ungovernable hero, the Firebird—and never on you, the foppy socialite. “Would it be so perverse to want even a slither of recognition, Severus?” 

“Do not forget your duty,” he taunts venomously, the cords in his neck going rigid. “To the greater good you so earnestly fight for. Your duty to your mother.” 

“Do not talk about her!” you all but shout, magic sizzling in the air around you. 

“Then see to it that there are no more mistakes going forward!” Severus juts his chin, baring his teeth in contempt. 

After a few long moments, he continues with a resigned exhale, dragging his palm down his face—as though you are the perplexing one. “This. . . Moody has developed a habit of emptying my cupboards.” 

“And why, pray tell,” you retort gruffly, “should I care for this oh-so special cupboard of yours?” 

“It contains ingredients for Polyjuice potions!” he proclaims angrily. “Get to the bottom of this. I’ll not have a blithering fool like Pettigrew get to the students again. Do what you must, I have no interest in understanding the workings of your mind—as long as you do not draw unnecessary attention to yourself.” 

The sound of footfalls break you apart as Severus nimbly lifts the Notice-Me-Not charm he had cast earlier. Within seconds, you find Remus Lupin rounding the corner. He’s dressed in his usual baggy, gray jumper; jaw clean-shaved, and pinkish scars against his skin. A well-loved quilted coat over his shoulders—handmade by Lily, you presume. You notice the mismatched otter socks peeking from his loafers. Remus saunters down the hallway with tired eyes and a feeble smile as he stops right in front of you and Severus. He has a rather tall frame, slender even, despite his hunched shoulders. 

“Snape,” Remus nods to him, gaze flickering back and forth as he attempts to discern what had transpired—well, you’re certainly in no rush to tattle and cry into his arms. 

“Professor,” he says to you, an ever curious smile on his face. “You’re looking quite peaky. Is something the matter?”

“I am most certainly sound and fine, Mister Lupin,” you respond, irritated, as you wobble on your feet. You are at your wit’s end—how bothersome of it all. “Should you not be on your way to your next class, Professor?” you bite tiredly. 

Remus shrugs, hazel-eyes crinkling in amusement. “Mad-Eye is taking over my next class. I thought it would be good for the students to learn from a veteran Auror. I’m sure he has much more experience to offer than me.” 

You scowl, his humility smothering you painfully. “Well, I’ve no interest in dragging my feet around. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a prior engagement with my cat and I’m afraid I’ve left her alone for too long.” 

And as fate would have it, when you make haste for your quarters, you falter in your steps; lurching as your vision goes blurry. Your breath snags in your throat as Remus catches you by the waist. “Perhaps, we should get you to Lily,” offers Remus as he sets you upright, brows pinched worriedly, ignoring Snape’s eye roll in the background. 

“I said I was fine!” You blurt out, cradling the front of your head as you sway backwards; now seeing two Lupins and two Snapes. “Merlin, are all Gryffindors this bloody meddlesome? Must I repeat myself? I am fine—!” 

Turns out, you are not fine. 

The last thing you see before losing consciousness is a pair of brown eyes with flecks of gold, more beautiful than any full moon you’ve ever seen. 

 —

You wake up to a dry, sore throat; the bitter scent of infirmary disinfectant—a Muggle’s touch, no doubt—and concoctions of various healing potions. Your head is still pounding, but somewhat bearable. The room is small, privy to only teachers, you conclude—although, it is the very first time you have ended up in the infirmary. Remus Lupin would feel your wrath, you’d make sure of it. Your back stings as though it were doused in Dittany recently. As you nearly break the flower vase in an attempt to reach for the empty glass, the door creaks open—and in comes Lily Potter with her husbands.

“Am I in hell?” you eye them bitterly. 

“No,” says the youngest matron, dressed in her own version of the nurse’s uniform. Red vest over her white blouse, and a long, plaid skirt with pockets. Soft red hair tied back with a pink ribbon. Albeit, her expression is anything but sweet and delicate. “But you’re in my office, which means you are now under my care—therefore I’d like you to explain why you have vampire toxins in your blood.” 

“And I would like to return to my quarters now, please,” you respond haughtily, referring to the private bedroom professors were offered in the castle. “I’ve nothing to explain to someone who administers the diagnostic charm on my person without explicit permission to do so!” you exclaim, releasing a shuddery breath as your head throbs agonizingly. 

“You will listen to me—seven hours ago you were this close to paralysis!” Lily shouts right back, eyes glaring defiantly—she may have adhered to you in Malfoy’s territory, but no power holds more authority than an acclaimed healer over a patient. “If you had been a Muggle, you’d be dead ten times over.”

“Well, now that we’ve established that I’m alive and well, I suppose we have no more pleasantries to exchange, Lily darling.” You tear the flimsy blanket from your legs, grimacing at the bandages covering your skin. 

“Not before you tell us where those bruises came from,” Sirius demands, voice low and knife-like eyes on you. 

“Must have been the Nargles,” you reply sarcastically. No one would care for a bonny doll ripping apart at the seams and gathering dust on a child’s shelf. “They’re quite frisky this time of the year, didn’t you know? My good friend Xenophilius wrote about those creatures a long time ago. Good read, I’d say.” 

“Are you capable of taking anything seriously?” cuts Sirius with a snarl, tendrils of hair curling around his face; hints of tattoos peeking out from his leather jacket. Vermillion satin shirt clashing against his pale skin. The lingering smell of lit cigars only reminds you of Regulus, and so you tear your gaze away from Sirius. 

“Sirius, let’s not scare her off now, love,” Remus admonishes, softly resting his palm at the back of Sirius’s neck, before he stares at you with honey-dripping eyes. You have a desperate need to run away. They’re an uncharted danger that you aren’t familiar with navigating—and you figure young Harry wouldn’t appreciate you treating his parents like a rabid vampire. “We just want to know what happened, you looked worse for wear when we brought you to Lily and Madam Pomfrey,” Remus placates, treating you like a crow with its wing snapped in half. 

You sneer. “If I am not dead, then these wounds hardly matter to me.” 

Lily gasps, a sound so soft only the wind could have possibly heard it. “How could you say that?” she asks, hand flying to her lips. “Of course it matters, you had lost so much blood while we tried to get the toxins flushed from your system.” She stares at the puncture mark on your arm, before peering over at Sirius. “We nearly couldn’t find a match to your blood type. Sirius. . . Well, he’s a universal donor and he didn’t even hesitate in giving you his—”

“Giving me what?” you echo lowly. “What did Sirius give me, Lily?”

“Blood,” Lily says firmly. “He gave you his blood so you could live.”

“How dare you?” you seethe, chest rapidly rising; digging your nails firmly into your palms as you stare furiously at Lily. “You had no right!” You scream until your throat is sore; your magic overflowing until it shatters the nearby vase of butterfly weeds. 

Rage tunnels your vision; heart hammering against your ribcage as you move to carelessly rip at the bandages over your wounds. “You had no right! You had no fucking right! I would have never done the same for you! Get out! Get out!” 

“Get out!” You hurl the glass at the wall across from you, narrowly avoiding Sirius’s head; anguish tears itself from your voice and you barely notice James flinch from the intensely flickering lights. 

“You think I’d be grateful?” you scoff, a burning heat spreading across your chest. “You think I’d be indebted to any of you after this? Is that what you wanted? What a fucking joke!” You laugh irately as you gasp for air. “I’d rather die!” 

When you run out of items to throw at them—pillows, shards of glass, and crumpled flower stems—you sit on the bed, shoulders violently shaking as you cough yourself sick. 

“I. . .” Lily begins, swallowing the lump wedged in her throat. “I understand. . . But I am the castle’s nurse, as long as you are under Hogwarts’ protection, I am keeping you alive no matter what.” 

“I don’t bloody care,” you snide.

Her eyes flash to James. “We’ll leave you to rest, then.” 

You stay silent, vacantly staring at the reddened welts on your hands. It’s not until you feel James’s arms around you and his chin hovering above your head that you realize you’ve stopped shivering. “I’m sorry,” is all that James whispers into your ear as he lays you to sleep with an inaudible charm. The chill of his magic is the last thing you feel before your eyes flutter to a close. 

—

You wake up in the infirmary once more. This time, you lay stiff on the mattress, absentmindedly gazing at the plain ceiling; your chest falling and rising ever-so slowly. The stink of a Calming Draught is painstakingly familiar. A low humming sound tells you that you aren’t alone—but you barely flinch from their presence, too tired to do anything but close your eyes. “Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me. . . . something. . . they’re okay,” murmurs one Sirius Black, tapping on his thigh as he rests his back on the rustic chair. 

If Sirius wants an encore, he’d have to drag the fight out of you. You’re utterly drained from your emotional palaver earlier. “Didn’t know you were into Muggle songs, Black,” you chortle bemusedly.  

Sirius halts in his singing as a forceful silence falls over the room—you distinctly hear the moment Sirius’s hand drops to his thigh, most likely taken aback by the sound of your hoarse voice. You feel the weight of his eyes on your bandaged arms and legs. A few seconds pass before he responds, his words but a faint breath. “After today, I believe that there is much to be uncovered for the both of us.” 

You don’t bother replying—you’d have Obliviated them instantly if it wasn’t illegal to use on Aurors. 

“We know it was you,” says Sirius out of the blue—your blood turns icy-cold on command, wondering if he’s figured out about the wizard behind the Firebird. “On the first day of term, someone had left a basket of freshly-brewed Wolfsbane potions enough to last him for the entire year,” he explains further, leaning his elbows on his knees as he stares at you unwaveringly. “I almost didn’t believe it, but a Marauder has his ways.” 

(His son with an invisibility cloak and a handy, enchanted parchment.) 

“Thank you,” he says, guttural with emotions. “It means more to Remus than you think.”

“Your gratitude is misplaced, unfortunately,” you rasp, coiling your fists tightly, stubbornly intent on avoiding his eyes—not wanting to get caught in the storm within. You exhale with a ragged sigh. Severus was right, you had been sloppy. And this is what carelessness leads to. “Don’t delude yourself, Mister Black, I couldn’t care less what happens to you or your family.”

Sirius chuckles, like he’d expected such a response from you. “Well, do what you’d like with my gratitude, I don’t care, just know that you have it,” he says, rising from his seat. “It’s past midnight, by the way. Lily’s left you some dinner in case you woke up hungry.” 

Your eyes drift to the nightstand. There’s a steaming bowl of spinach rice with mushrooms, and a plate of honey cinnamon bars. But your gaze lingers on the bouquet of snapdragons and orchids placed in a ceramic vase. 

“She believes home-cooked meals help the patients heal faster,” Sirius tells you, carefully observing your reaction—but there’s none to be found. He purses his lips into a thin, white line.

As he makes his way to leave, Sirius pauses, hand resting on the doorframe. “You know,” he begins quietly. “The thing about magic—it can fool the best of us into thinking we’re indestructible. But, you’re not as inhumane as you’d like us to think.” Sirius veers his head to look back at you. “Take that mask of yours off sometimes, yeah? You’d see the rest of the world clearly if you did.” 

That is all you hear from him before the door clicks shut, and you’re left alone with your thoughts.

How arrogant.

How very Gryffindor of him. 

You push the flower vase closer to the edge of the bedside table, indignantly eyeing the watercolor art. The room reeks of Lily’s kindness. Lions and their constant need to see the goodness in everyone. Take off your mask? You’d give your entire Gringotts account to wear the kind of rose-colored lenses they have—they’re more pestilent than you realized. No matter, it’s high-time you reintroduced yourself to the Marauders, anyway. 

If you take off your mask, they would find nothing but a barren soul.

—

It seems your newfound parasites have forgotten who you truly are—but you have no qualms in reminding them why exactly you’re called the pureblood society’s darling. 

For the week or so, the Daily Prophet features you out in luxurious restaurants, a new partner each night hanging off your arm. International Quidditch players, foreign models, esteemed opera singers, and even Muggle celebrities. Men and women are captured in moving photographs, avidly fawning over you. 

You’ve missed three classes in favor of shopping in France; Flooing back to Hogwarts, stinking of bordeaux and rosa centifolia. Painite gems nestled around your neck, glittery sapphires lining your wrists. On more than one occasion, you’ve seen McGonagall lift her chin in distaste at your behavior. 

“Well, that’s certainly a speedy recovery,” says Lily one afternoon as the owls take the Great Hall by storm. Rita Skeeter’s new article about you is plastered on the front page, apparently you’ve gotten into a catfight with an Italian seamstress. She risks a glimpse of you from the other side of the long table, laughing away with Professor Sinistra. The sound is scraping against her ears, yet Lily can’t help but feel disappointed.

Your desk is littered with mails from admirers, invitations to galas and fundraisers. The students can’t help but notice this fact as they’re brought to the dance floor each morning. (Each day, you rewind Coppélia’s song—her wishes, and her pain—but you plan to ignore the ballad until blood trickles from your ears.)

“Mumma’s just about ready to send her a Howler,” you hear Ginevra Weasley saying in passing after class. The young red-haired girl nearly bumps into Hermione’s shoulder as Ginny dips her head low, prattling excitedly, “Called the Professor a tart, even.”

Hermione stops walking, scrunching her nose. “Really?”

“Yes, yes,” Ginny nods. “But enough about all that—have you seen the news this morning?” 

Hermione looks up, lips wrinkled in thought. “The one about the Professor being seen in Muggle London? I thought that was rather stale for a headline.”

“Not that one,” Ginny says exasperatedly, rolling her eyes. “The article about the Firebird. Remember what happened during the World Cup? When You-Know-Who’s followers came and raided the entire campsite?”

“That would be pretty hard to forget, Gin,” Hermione replies softly. 

“Well, the Firebird’s gone and hunted a few of them,” Ginny tells her, eyes brimming with awe. “Found their hideout and left them half-dead for the Ministry to find. No Malfoy, though, which is a bloody shame.”

At your desk, you sip your jasmine pearl tea with a knowing smirk.

On the first of October, your previous Head of House invites you to the greenhouse for an overdue get-together. Naturally, you greet Pomona Sprout with gift baskets overflowing with glacé treats, packets of tea, scented candles, and dried berries. She huffs in fond exasperation before instructing you to grab a pair of cotton earmuffs and gardening gloves. And, well, you don’t mind playing the part of a slap happy third-year under her gentle care. It’s a role you enjoy more so than others. 

“You’ve been worrying me these days, dear,” Professor Sprout tells you earnestly as she wrestles with the Flitterblooms. Hoo-hoo chicks flutter around in their cage while the uprooted baby Mandragoras screech nearby. You feel the weight of her gaze, much like a knitted blanket draped over your shoulders on a cold, autumn noon. “The other staff have been expressing their. . . concern,  as well.” 

You busy yourself with planting the Wiggentree in its pot, allowing only a moment to raise your walls of Occlumency. You know that she couldn’t possibly be a threat, but you would not allow someone else to expose you bare for others to see. (You loathe the thought of Sirius’s blood flowing through your veins.)

You know that concern is shallow at best, forged from fear of the students being influenced by your frivolous escapades. 

At your silence, Sprout continues on, “We always tell the children that their Houses will be like their second family during their time at Hogwarts.” You hear her draw in a long breath, gingerly placing the flitter tentacles on the ground. “I hope you understand that the same is true for the professors. We take care of each other, substitute teacher or not.” Pomona’s hand is leaden on your shoulder. “After all, you were our student before anything else. The Sorting Hat gave you to me, and what a darling blessing you have been, even until today. When I look at you now, I see the same young first-year student who was afraid of everything and afraid to come out of their shell—but do not forget, I will always be on my children’s side no matter what.”

How poignant that the first person who truly welcomed you to Hogwarts, is one of the only people who can see through you despite your protective barriers.

And so, the puppet show begins—like a lifeless ragdoll, you peel the deer-leather gloves off your hands, blinking away any hints of emotion. You stand tall before Pomona, dusting flecks of soil off your dovetail skirt. “No one has been on my side. Not then, not now,” you say as you snobbishly arrange the brim of your sunhat. “But do not be mistaken, Pomona. I have been fine on my own and a change still remains to be seen.” 

In another life, you would have happily embraced her comfort and affection—but the fate of a lonely starlet is cruel. You’ve made your bed of thorns and wilted roses, and there you shall lay when there is no one left but yourself. 

“Today was lovely, Pomona, thank you.” It is one truth you’ve permitted yourself to offer—a shred of humanity in exchange for her kindness. The dirt beneath your nail beds is real; so is the ache in your back and the sweat dripping from the side of your head to your chin. But you cannot feel any more than that—you forbid yourself. The Mandrakes fall silent, and you bid your goodbyes to the professor.

The sunlight on your skin is real as you step outside, and so is the sound of clamoring students heading for the greenhouse. Sixth-year students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw hurry down the hill. Their unrestrained laughter and carefree smiles are real. And so is the unwashed blood on your hands; the killing curses that have fallen so easily from your lips, and the ghosts that haunt you as the moon arises. Perhaps, you could withstand it all if it means the children would live through a real future without the sins of people like you. 

(But why is it that every time you distance yourself. . . there always seems to be someone calling out to you?) 

Cedric Diggory, your godson, yells for you with a grin that stretches from ear-to-ear. You watch as his yellow scarf swings with each hasty step he takes. Cedric crosses the gap between you in under a minute, strands of wavy, brown hair sweeping over his glimmering eyes. It’s an unsolved mystery as to how you and him were sorted in the same House. 

“Your shirt is wrinkled, Cedric,” you tut, straightening his tie. “Do you go riding Hippogriffs in your spare time?” 

Cedric chuckles wholeheartedly. “Father told me to tell you that you’ve been invited this weekend for a dinner at Hogsmeade,” he says, cocking his head as a cheeky simper erupts across his face. “That is, if you aren’t busy.” 

You raise a brow—sly little badger, he was. Harrumphing uppishly, you swivel to turn your back to him and say, “Tell your father that I’m choosing the venue, lest he chooses some primitive pub in the village.” You draw out the distance between you and Cedric, tossing your parting words into the chilly breeze, “Tell him I’m paying for everything, too.” 

His hearty laughter cuts through the hillside as you make your way back to the castle. Thinking you have the last word, you don’t expect him to yell once more: 

“I’m going to enter the tournament this year!” 

You’re certainly taken by surprise, but you don’t slow your pace. An imperious smirk tugs at your lips—well, at least you know where you’re placing your bets. 

A day before the esteemed guests are set to arrive, you run into Sirius and James—much to your annoyance. It’s just your luck that the evening prior you were hunting down a known member of Greyback’s pack. You played a little cat-and-wolf deep in the depths of a forest, hungrily isolating him from the rest of its family. Though this lycan was unturned, you walk away with claw marks on your back. Still, you hope that Greyback licks his wounds and feels the burden of this particular loss. However, you feel that dealing with James and Sirius will be much more difficult than bringing a werewolf to its knees.

After all, this is the first time you come face-to-face with them, nearly a month after your incident in the infirmary. 

“Auror Black, Auror Potter,” you say liltingly, the rhinestone tassel clinking in your hair as you swirl to face them with a devious leer. “What can I do for you today?” 

Sirius scoffs in disbelief. “So it’s like that, then? Like nothing ever happened?” 

“Partying around, missing your bloody classes, parading all over the castle like you’re better than everyone else. We thought you changed. You know, I actually thought there could be something real to you under all that,” he punctuates his words with a harsh laugh, sneering at your blinding jewelry. “Guess we were the fools, eh?” 

James stares at Sirius, a grim expression flashing across his face, before he shakes his head. “It just doesn’t make sense. What we saw at the infirmary—that’s not something anyone forgets.” He gazes at you with grief in his eyes. “It’s like you’re two different people.” 

“It’s disappointing, really,” Sirius bites, his lips curling into a snarl.

They’ve made it all too easy for you. 

“What are you so frustrated for, darlings?” you say in faux sympathy, stalking towards them as you tap at your chin; a sickly-sweet pout on your lips. “What were you hoping for? For all of us to become friends? We’re not children anymore, my loves!” you exclaim histrionically. “Did you actually fall for my little trick at the infirmary? The care parcel I left your husband? Didn’t you know my mother drafted the anti-werewolf bill?”

Sirius staggers.

“The real me?” you giggle incredulously. “What you see is what you get, dearest—don’t go searching for what doesn’t exist. It’s not my fault you fall so easily for a pretty face.” You tilt your head, fluttering your eyes as you drag your nail up James’s chin. “Not every damsel is in distress, you know.”

Your eyes slice towards Sirius with a coy smile. “Maybe if you had followed your head more often than your naive, little lion hearts—you wouldn’t have driven Regulus to his death.” 

James recoils away from your touch just as Sirius flinches, eyes flashing with anger���Sirius digs his nails into his palms, chest heaving as he stares at you in disgust. You expect another stab in the chest from him, and so you lift your head up high, daring him to say another word. (You hope they stopped trying after this—that they would leave you alone to rot in your stage of lies and dutiful sacrifice.) But you don’t plan for James to step forward, shielding Sirius away from your gaze.

“You are, without a doubt, the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen,” says James, words dripping in sincere revulsion. “Can’t believe I thought anything less than that.” 

You smile widely, despite the tightening sensation in your chest. “Are we done here now, gentlemen?”

They would learn—this is who you are beneath your masks and pretenses. 

The thirtieth of October brings about a cold you’ve never felt before. As you await the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, the outside corridors are teeming with students, eyes hungry with anticipation. You lean against the wall, exhausted physically and mentally, hugging your worn-out shawl closer to your shoulders. 

The skies are exceptionally gray today—you’ve had to drag yourself out of bed earlier this morning, limbs heavy as lead. The teacup in your grasp is scalding to the touch—you find that nothing hurts more than the ache in your heart. The children are particularly rowdy at the moment—each time you close your eyes, you see the hatred in James and Sirius’s eyes. 

Has loneliness ever felt so suffocating before? 

When winged horses make their way from the heavens, the clamoring grows louder—yet all you hear are their words. 

‘You are, without a doubt, the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen.’

‘I actually thought there could be something real to you under all that.’

You would not weep—not for yourself, and not certainly for them. 

Sometimes, you wondered if you were hurting too much to even be considered alive. Did your marked flesh even count as skin anymore? Worthy to be cherished with gentle touches and tender lips? How much more did you have to do until the guillotine finally fell? 

When does duty end? And when does life begin? 

Madame Maxine and her drove of Veelas descend from their carriage; awestruck gasps and intrigued murmurs echoing along the corridor. When the Beauxbatons Headmaster comes to stand before you, you instinctively sink into the role of a diplomatic host—that is, after all, why Dumbledore hired you. With a nod of your head and a pleasing smile, you greet the first of your guests to arrive. 

“What a relief that you made it safely to Hogwarts, Madame Maxime,” you tell her in a saccharine-sweet tone. “If you please, Mister Filch here will guide you to the dormitories where you’ll be staying while Hagrid will take care of your horses.” 

You want to go to sleep already. 

Finally, as a large ship emerges from the Great Lake—a sense of relief floods through you. Only one more person to greet and you’ll finally be able to return to your quarters, welcoming feast be damned—you’ve done your part for today. Igor Karkaroff and his students make their presence known; imposing statures and foreboding glares. The castle nearly crumbles from Viktor Krum’s entrance, Hogwarts’ Quidditch players eager to catch a glimpse of the prodigal Seeker—well, you could care less about such a barbaric sport. 

Karkaroff presents you a slimy leer as he presses a kiss to the back of your palm—the dig of his long nails into your skin is a pleasant feeling, to your surprise. “Dumbledore did not inform me we would be greeted by such beauty. We would have arrived earlier, otherwise.” 

You miss your cat. 

(Sirius’s eyes roll all the way to the back of his head when you giggle and melt in Karkaroff’s wretched compliments.) 

You want to die.

—

Chaos erupts the next day. The Goblet of Fire has chosen a fourth champion—Harry Potter himself. No one is more enraged than his mother, Lily. The Aurors on duty, James and Sirius, struggle to contain the students’ horror and verbal lashings. Some have taken to accusing James himself of putting Harry’s name in the goblet in the name of family prestige—predictably, it’s Draco and Pansy who lead that revolt. But you don’t expect for Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan to be swayed by the baseless gossip. So there’s a crack in the pride’s loyalty to one another, you surmise to yourself. 

Like a Niffler drawn to shiny objects, you follow the Headmasters and professors into a room, away from all the ruckus. 

“Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?” the wise Professor Dumbledore asks calmly.

The atmosphere is beyond wintry—you note the biting criticisms in their eyes, particular between Fleur and Madame Maxime. Lily hides Harry from their scrutiny, proud and unyielding despite being shorter than the Beauxbaton champion. Across the room, you find Severus and Remus engaged in a muted, albeit wound up argument. 

Everyone looks to the morose Bartemius Crouch Sr., awaiting his decision with a bated breath. You sympathize with the man—for a fleeting moment—for if looks could kill, Sirius’s tempestuous glare would have dragged him six feet under. 

“We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament.”

Your blood runs cold.

Ludo Bagman appears to be pleased with his colleague’s decision—you see no reason why he shouldn’t be, he’s only ever put his odds in the thrill of the game. “Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front!” 

Dimwitted fool.

You scoff. “In a room full of Headmasters and Ministry leaders, surely one of you can find a way to unbind young Potter’s name from the tournament.”

“Err. . .” Ludo’s gaze flickers from Dumbledore to Crouch Sr. Madame Maxime and Karkaroff nod emphatically in agreement, forcing him into a corner with a ragged chuckle. “There’s nothing to be done, the Goblet of Fire has gone out.”

“Do you or do you not have a wand, Mister Bagman?” you reply, piqued; crossing your arms over your chest. “If the rules were written by a wizard, surely it can be unwritten by a wizard. Teaching an Unforgivable to a first-year would be more difficult than that.” “It is not as simple as that, Professor!” Bagman cries. “But you are welcome to try a hand at it.”

“So we just let a child run to his death, then?” you seethe, nostrils flaring. “I never knew the Ministry was teeming with incompetent men. Shall I steal your job from under your nose, Ludo dear?”

(Harry’s brows pinch in confusion. He does not expect for you to care so much.)

“He’s got to compete. They’ve all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?” says Alastor Moody as he limps across the room, flask in his hand. You fall silent, an unnerving chill slithering down your spine. Something about this man did not sit right with you. You pull the sleeves of your blouse further down your arms. 

“Maybe someone’s hoping Potter is going to die for it,” Moody growls in response to Fleur. “Over my dead body!” James snarls, veins rigid against the column of his throat, eyes simmering in anger. 

“Yes, yes, Potter, we all know you’d die for your son,” Moody remarks offhandedly, taking a large gulp of the liquor in his flask. 

“It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it,” Dumbledore counters in an attempt to placate the tense atmosphere. Lily’s sharp sob engulfs the outraged clamors of the two other Headmasters. “Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do. . . .”

The glass sculpture of a long-haired mermaid shatters into fragmented pieces as you bump into the table; just about ready to flee before you do anything rash like point your wand at Crouch Sr. himself. Before you exit the room, you catch sight of Cedric’s eyes—worry and uncertainty pooling within his gaze. You slam the door hard enough until the wood splinters. 

Harry Potter is imprisoned by his fate as the Chosen One—and it seems time has imprisoned everyone at Hogwarts, yourself included. 

The first task for the tournament arrives defiantly, without care for Harry and his loved ones. You have only been to the Quidditch field twice—today happens to be the second time. Everyone is bundled in their wooliest sweaters and warmest jackets; although, Hermione did have her portable bluebell flames. You stare at it with envy. 

“Oi! Professor, over here!” One freckled Weasley twin—Fred, you guess—beckons for you to sit by their swarm of red and gold. He pushes Ron away to make room for you beside Minerva. 

“Thank you, Mister Weasley,” you say quietly, sniffles falling from your frost-bitten nose. 

It’s quite odd—you’d have expected to be sitting with Professor Sprout and Amos, amongst your sett of badgers. But it’s not half-bad. You don’t erupt in flames when Minerva holds onto you, shrieking, as Fleur narrowly avoids her dragon, awoken from its trance. You don’t particularly mind either, when the Weasley twins bump their chests and holler into Ginerva’s ear when it’s time for Viktor Krum to face the Chinese Fireball.

“We got a traitor here!” George snickers when you flinch and yelp for Cedric as he fights shy of the Short Snout’s fire, and cheering breathlessly when he eventually captures the golden egg. You glare at George mirthfully, wondering where your fight and heat has gone. 

“Please excuse me for a moment,” you say, rising to your feet as the judges mull over their scores for Cedric. “Minerva,” you nod to her, and she offers you a hint of a wrinkly smile. (McGonagall thinks that if anyone can talk back in the face of a Ministry chairman in defense of her students, then perhaps she’s misjudged a professor or two.) 

Your cheeks grow numb from the cold as you cross the swarm of Beauxbatons students, past the flock of Ravenclaws. Harry’s match is underscored by the deafening cheers; the stands  rumbling from the yells for his name. You’re nearing the territory of yellow banners and black insignias, trumpets blowing into your ears, when the clamor and hurrahs turn into terrified gasps; students rushing back from the edge. You don’t understand the fuss until you look back at the arena. 

Harry’s dragon has broken free from its chains. 

You join Professor Sprout and Severus in herding the students away from danger—spotting James and Sirius across the arena, hastily reinforcing the protective barriers around the stands, uttermost precision in their wandwork. While Harry dances a life-threatening waltz, you hurriedly clear out the space closest to the banisters. Your breath hitches as the Hungarian Horntail wreaks havoc below, inducing quakes and showers of fire. 

But more frightening than any dragon, you hear the bloodcurdling scream of a student.

“Daphne!” 

The Greengrass heiress, Astoria, cries vehemently as Draco holds her back from rushing to the front of the stands. 

You scour the area frantically—there, only a few feet away from you, lies a fear-stricken Daphne Greengrass, staring right into the eyes of the Horntail. Its teeth bare, growls like thunderstorms, and the rising scent of embers and ashes. 

“Daphne, get away from there!” 

You hardly hesitate—you run to her, desperation pushing at your legs, terror holding your heart captive. As the dragon screeches in preparation to breathe fire, the nearest Aurors miles away—each gasp for air is torn from your throat. In a blink of an eye, you grab Daphne into your arms and shield her from the Horntail. The crowd bellows in fright—you close your eyes, preparing for even the most excruciating of pain. 

But there is nothing. 

Just you, Daphne, the Hungarian—and Remus who’s pointed his wand at the onslaught of flames, redirecting it up into the sky as Harry grabs the Horntail’s attention, now zipping freely on his broom. 

Remus looks back at the both of you in relief, drawing his wand back in his pocket. “Are you alright?” he asks you first, a weary tenderness in his eyes. 

You tear your gaze away from him, checking on Daphne instead; cupping her pale cheeks and wiping the tears from her eyes. “Are you alright, Daphne? What do you feel? Come, darling, let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey—can you stand? Here, put your arm around my shoulder.” 

“T–Thank you, Professor,” stammers Daphne as Astoria rushes to her, the pair of sisters blubbering and crying. The blonde-haired girl nods to you and Remus, “Both of you. I–I don’t know how I’ll repay such kindness.” 

“Don’t worry, Daphne,” says Remus, smiling as he offers her a lemon-flavored treat. 

He steps back to make way for Lily to fuss over Daphne, his eyes straying to you, oozing with sincerity as he rubs his handkerchief to your cheek. He grins at you and your heart skips a beat. “My kindness is freely given.”

Has kindness ever felt so real before?

act iv. you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me. 

“THE CHILDREN ARE terrified, Missus Fawley. Just last week, we had another incident. All the windows in the kitchen—shattered! The little ones couldn’t sleep for days.” 

You hear the orphanage matron’s voice behind the bedroom door. You’re allowed but a moment of playing with your ragged, plush animals, before the matron comes barging inside. (How rude, you think to yourself. Hasn’t she ever heard of knocking before?) Although, unlike all the other times, she has a lady right on her tail. This woman is much taller than Sister Thompson, certainly more beautiful-looking, too. Not that you have anything against Sister Thompson’s wrinkly face and foul smile. 

No, this woman walks with her head held up high, dressed in a burgundy leather coat that clearly costs more than the thin rag you call a shirt. This must be Mrs. Fawley, then. Her black heels click against the rusty, wooden floor; you watch impassively as she bends down to your eye level. She takes you by surprise when she grabs ahold of your chin, slowly turning your head from side to side. 

“So this is the child,” Mrs. Fawley muses, red lips quirked. Haunting blue eyes stare back at you; hair dark as ebony falling to her waist. “You may leave, Sister Thompson. I would like to get to know my future ward.”

The matron widens her eyes. “Missus Fawley, I strongly advise against—!”

“You misunderstand me, Sister Thompson,” says Fawley, a sharp edge to her voice. “That was not a request.”

A strange sense of victory fills you when Sister Thompson bows her head in response, tossing you just one sour glare before exiting the room. The rickety door clicks shut and Mrs. Fawley returns her attention to you with a low hum, eyes raking over your form once more. You wonder what she’s thinking about; wondering if it’s the vast difference between her neatly-pressed clothing and your rumpled dress shirt. Many have visited the orphanage before, but none have spared you a second glance, not with Sister Thompson scaring them all away. (You suppose there is no appeal in adopting a child with temperamental issues who can make other girls’ noses bleed.)

“Show me,” Fawley commands, breaking the quietude; her voice stern, yet hypnotic. Much like the first notes of a pied piper’s song. For a few moments, you don’t understand what she’s asking for, until realization dawns upon you. You drop the plush toy’s limbs—seconds later, the teddy bear waves its hand as though it’s gained a soul. If this had been a wooden doll with a long nose, it would be saying: ‘I’m a real boy!’

Fawley chuckles, leaning back with a pleased look. Your head falls to the side in confusion—when you had shown this little trick to Daisy Anne and Annaliese, they’d begun to throw stones at you, screaming and saying that you were a witch. You don’t try to play with the other children anymore after that. Rather than being afraid, Missus Fawley seems to be happy with you. “My name is Agatha Fawley, special adviser to the Wizengamot, daughter of the Sacred Twenty-Eight,” she tells you, and you don’t have a lick of comprehension. “What do you know about witches and wizards, darling?” “I don’t know, maybe. . .” You scrunch your nose, making the stuffed elephant twirl the bear with just a glance—Fawley tilts your chin upwards, demanding your utmost attention. “That they aren’t real? Or if they are, they should be burnt at the stake?”

Agatha Fawley hisses, a low sound that sends shivers down your spine. You wonder if you’ve angered her. The toys fall back to the floor lifelessly. “Damned Muggles—! Is that what they teach these days?” She shakes her head. “No, never mind. What matters is what happens from now on.” “Are you going to adopt me?” you dare to ask, gaze falling to the floor, heart hammering against its confinements.

“I will,” she affirms and your eyes grow wide, breath stuttering in your throat. “But if we are to become family—there is one thing you must do for me.”

“Anything!” You all but scream in her ear, a plea for her to take you away from the orphanage; far, far away from hurtful words and a room that echoes your loneliness back to you. 

“Never lower your eyes.” She smiles, teeth bared into a snarl, reminiscent of a prowling fox. “You are magic, my darling. And I will be your mother. No one on this earth can make you kneel in surrender.”

You believe her.

You believe her with all your heart.

But, you would learn that even monsters can call themselves ‘mother’ and embrace you with open arms. 

The Fawley Manor is large—larger than the orphanage, and that was a place you couldn’t fully explore due to its largeness. There must be a thousand rooms, as far as the eyes can see. It’s like a princess castle coming to life—akin to the ones you’ve read about in storybooks. Missus Fawley’s home nearly touches the sky. There are tall trees, wide grassfields, and glimmering lakes. You gasp and cover your eyes with your hands as the chauffeur drives past the marble sculpture of naked ladies. (“Think of them as Goddesses bare to the mortal eye, dearest,” says Fawley when you yelp and sink into the leather seats.) Then, the family butler, maids, and chef come to greet you, all smiling at the new addition to the manor. 

You meet Elsie, the house elf—your first real encounter with magic. Well, besides Missus Fawley turning paper into crystalline butterflies in the car. Elsie is a tiny, wrinkly creature who wears five different-colored knitted hats atop her head. She can’t seem to stop shuddering while speaking, too, as if drenched in cold, invisible water. But you look into her big eyes and you decide to be her friend forever. 

“Get settled into your room, and then we’ll have you acquainted with the rest of the staff,” Fawley says after she ushers you into a room—a bedroom just for you, where you won’t have to listen to anyone else’s snoring or fight to the death for a blanket on a cold winter storm. The bed is bouncy and soft, not unlike the cardboard they’d given you at the orphanage. Your shelves are stocked with toys and books. 

Then, you remember that in exchange for all this, you must do your best in school. That is one thing you aren’t looking forward to. 

But, how bad could a school be if it’s filled with magic? 

You happily imagine smelly trolls, dashing unicorns, talking ghosts, and floating crayons. 

For your first week in the manor, you enjoy glazed desserts, fluffy pillows, and silken clothing—and on your second week, you are reminded of your duty to the family you’ve been brought into. Something bigger than studying in a faraway magic castle. Missus Fawley introduces you to her long line of ancestors. You stumble on your footing as the portraits shuffle around and gaze upon you with curiosity, some with a more heated glare than others. They call you a funny term as you walk past. Mudblood. But, Fawley tells you not to worry. You are now her child before anything else. 

The family crest is chiseled with gold; you squint your eyes to make sense of the inscription: Virtus in Arduis.

“Virtue in hardships,” Agatha explains in her dulcet tone. As you featherly trace the emblem with your fingers, Fawley leans down to your height, clearing her throat; her expression impossible for you to read. “I brought you to this family because I saw potential in you. I sensed great magic from your person. But we all have our duties. Magic gives, and magic will take.”

“The wizarding world is in grave danger,” she tells you firmly, gripping the curve of your jaw with an intensity that frightens you. “Will you help me fight for the greater good?”

You blink.

You just got here and now you have to fight for a world that you never even knew that existed?

“Greater good?” you echo in disbelief. “F-Fight? Fight who? I’ve never even fought in my life! Making Daisy Anne’s nose bleed w-was just an accident!” 

“I will be with you every step of the way,” she vows fiercely, the tips of her nails digging into your cheeks. “Tell me, do you understand? You will do what is right without any recognition at all. Think of it as a performance, my love. And I’m preparing you for your role in this world starting now.” 

The ingénue in this act you have to play involves studying endlessly, practicing your wand work until Fawley is satisfied, and familiarizing yourself with every shelf in the library from dawn until dusk. You don’t understand why you must memorize every charm and every incantation—but Missus Fawley reminds you that you are bound to her and your responsibilities. You don’t want to go back to the orphanage, cold and alone—so, you acquaint yourself with parchments and quills, swallowing the discomfort when the nib harshly rubs your skin raw. 

On your tenth birthday, Missus Fawley gifts you with a closet overflowing with chiffon, taffeta, and organza. Lace parasols, pretty shoes, and wide-brimmed sun hats. The chef surprises you with a three-layered cake, the constellation icing charmed to flicker like real stars in the night. It’s the best birthday you’ve ever had. For the first time, you feel like your life is actually celebrated. 

The next day, your adoptive mother says with utmost exigency, “This time next year, you shall be off to Hogwarts, but that means your debut in society is drawing near. The wizarding world will officially acknowledge you as my child.”

“When that happens, vultures will flock to you as though you were a corpse.” Her eyes flash dangerously. “And you will become one, unless you learn how to fend for yourself. The most ruthless of us all can be adorned in pearls and dressed in ball gowns. Appearance is everything in this world—do not let them see that you are afraid.” 

And so, you don’t tell her that she’s petrified you to the bone.

“As the sole heir to my fortune and properties, you must understand how to navigate, not only the wizarding world, but this treacherous domain, as well.” Missus Fawley straightens your back, harshly tapping you once more to spread your legs at a more acceptable distance. “To be envied by all—the perfect host must always be ready to receive their guests with attention and politeness.”

When you wince, or move to massage your sore muscles, she barks at you, “You must always be composed, even in near-death. If you crumble—if you let even a single person know what you’re truly feeling, all this will be for naught.”

The burden of her words is heavier than the textbooks she shoves in your hold. 

“Control them before they can control you,” Fawley explains as the seamstress measures your waist and arms. “Exert your influence in a conversation. Not only in words, but your stature. Present yourself accordingly. Jewelry and clothing can be your armor when you cannot draw your wand.”

You grumble under your breath when the seamstress accidentally pokes you with a needle for the nth time. 

“Smile when flattered, giggle when offered a dance, and curtsy when greeted.” Fawley glares daggers at you when you hiss in pain. “But most of all, do not let any of those cretins know that you are fully aware of the power you wield over them. Anyone can be a puppeteer if they want to be. You’ll just be the greatest of them all.”

(But even a master of puppets has someone pulling their strings from behind the curtains.)

Elsie stays up with you each night, carefully pouring ice-cold water over your head, and playing with the floating bubbles to distract you from the ache in your legs and arms. “Elsie will give Master her hat!” the young elf says one evening, pulling the topmost beanie from her head and laying it on yours. She tells you a bedtime story before tucking you beneath the covers of your queen-sized bed. You fall asleep to the sound of grasshoppers chirping and portraits murmuring to one another. 

Then, you get your first taste of a pureblood skirmish. Missus Fawley had taken you to Diagon Alley, months away from the first of September—a letter in your hand with all the materials a first-year would need for their classes. Safe to say, you’re more than excited. (“Oh, mother, look!” you exclaim, pointing to the various shops—and also remembering the rule of calling Agatha mother out in public. “A sweet shop! Fortescue’s ice cream parlor! Mother, can we go there? Please, please, please!”) Fawley smiles at your wide-eyed wonder, your hand in hers—today is a special one, she decides. You’re allowed a bit of fun. Especially since you’ve shown unfathomable progress in your studies. 

You get your very first wand at Ollivanders—and now this world of grumpy goblins and jumping chocolate frogs becomes even more real. You hardly let go of your wand, a tingle of exhilaration running through you each time you brush your fingers against the finely-carved wood. Even Missus Fawley is pleased with the wand that chooses you. Later, you’ll be given three hours to practice your charms again, but you find that you don’t mind—not when you’ve learned that you can now read books under the covers when Elsie turns the lights off.

As you exit the shop, breathless and flushed with a hunger to explore more of this world you’ve been given access to, you and Fawley run into one of her friends. This must be one of the scary people she’s warned you about. Sharp cheekbones, unfriendly gray eyes, and a stern demeanor. You immediately suck in a breath and school your face just as Agatha has taught you. 

“Walburga!” Fawley greets with a lovely smile, but you notice that it doesn’t reach her eyes, not like when she smiles at you for growing another inch taller. She brings her hand onto your shoulder. “What a pleasant surprise, my dear.” She peers at the two young boys hiding behind her, much like you were doing now. “Oh, my! Is it that time already? I’d forgotten young Sirius was set to go to Hogwarts this year. You must be overjoyed.” 

Walburga is a tall lady, taller than Agatha, even. She hums, lips quirked, chin held up high. “Fawley,” Walburga responds, rather displeased. “Talking my ear off, as usual.” Her trenchant eyes land on you and her smile curves into a sneer. “And who might this little one be?” 

You risk a glance at Missus Fawley before offering the other woman a sweet, half-curtsy. “Madam Black, how do you do?” you smile at her, gaily revealing your name and the gap in your front teeth—the two boys snicker and your eyes instantly narrow into a glare. 

Walburga stares you down harshly. “How adorable.” Her eyes slice to the two boys behind her. “Sirius, Regulus, introduce yourselves.” 

Missus Fawley laughs, a grating sound—much like warning bells—as her eyes flash dangerously at her, hand tightening on your collarbone. “What a relief to know that Sirius will at least have one friend already before they arrive at the castle.” 

“But—oh, dear, look at the time.” Agatha quickly casts the Tempus charm before looking at you aghast, eyes wide as saucers, mouth parted dramatically. “I promised the Daily Prophet a photoshoot today! It is my thirty-first birthday soon, after all. I’d give you tips on how to capture this look, but, Walburga, it seems you’re embodying the housewife fashion perfectly.”

“Ta-ta!” She plants two, airy kisses on Walburga’s cheeks before waving the three goodbye. 

“That,” Fawley whispers into your ear as she snuggles the side of your face. “—is exactly how to do it.”  

You collapse in your bed that night, wondering just what you’ve gotten yourself into and what kind of world you’re about to live in.

How confusing.

All this time, you thought that Missus Fawley had been preparing you for an intense entrance exam. Why else would she make you study twenty-five hours a day and eight days a week? But as it turns out, all you had to do was sit on a chair and have Professor McGonagall put a talking hat on your head.

“Hufflepuff!” the Sorting Hat proclaims, and the table of yellow and black welcomes you with open arms. You sit next to a boy named Amos Diggory. Later in the night, you’ll share a dormitory with a kind girl named Amelia Bones. 

(Hogwarts is the best!) 

The holidays arrive in the blink of an eye and you find yourself standing at the steps of the manor once more. Agatha Fawley waits for you by the door, engulfing you instantly in a hug that shields you from the falling snowflakes and biting winds. Hot cocoa with marshmallows and gingerbread cookies await you in the grand dining room; you even get a crotchety greeting from Isolde Fawley the Third’s portrait. Elsie crumples to the floor and sobs at your arrival. 

“So you were sorted there,” Fawley mutters to herself, a worried expression contorting her face. The fireplace crackles as a winter storm rages outside the manor. You lay on her lap as she absentmindedly pats your head. Stories of your first few months at Hogwarts fall from your lips without pause. “This would go smoother if you had been sorted in Slytherin, however; but no matter—it’s not what I expected, but we can make do. The Diggorys and Bones’ are purebloods, so maybe not all hope is lost. But you need to get more acquainted with the Greengrasses and the Malfoys, Druella Black’s daughters as well.”

You hide your frown against her legs. You really liked Amos and Susan, Bellatrix was just downright mean to everyone, even calling this one girl, Lily, a Mudblood, too. But if mother wanted you to try, you might, but only once. If Bellatrix didn’t want to be your friend, then there’s no helping that unhinged witch. (At least the Prewett twins’ pranks were funny. Bellatrix once snuck inside the Ravenclaw tower to leave a dead pig’s head in the girls’ dormitory just because.)

On the twenty-fifth of December, Agatha Fawley throws a gala just for you—masqued as a fundraiser for Muggle children in need. (None of the families cared about them, you would realize later on.) The ground nearly rumbles from the number of guests she’s invited. From your bedroom window, you spot a few familiar faces. Sirius Black, who stands out from the crowd like a pale bean sprout; his cousin, Bellatrix, who’s already taken to yelling at the staff; Lucius Malfoy, the Flints, and the Parkinsons. Your head goes dizzy. 

As long as you don’t trip during your entrance, everything should be fine, right? Right?

(You one-hundred percent trip in front of everyone as you descend the stairs. The sound of James Potter and Sirius Black’s laughter haunts you.)

But other than that, the Yule event goes by smoothly. You don’t fall flat on your face when greeting Cygnus Black and Druella Black née Rosier, and mother is thoroughly satisfied when you smile in the face of Walburga Black and Abraxas Malfoy. You stay in the corner after welcoming your guests, sitting in your chair like an abstract painting forbidden to touch; whilst the Prewett twins and James teased Elsie until she cried from anxiety. Sirius also goes out of his way to congratulate you for growing all your teeth in. 

You don’t understand why Mother is so scared of these people.

But you’ll understand virtue in hardships soon enough when you receive your first tutoring in ballroom dancing. Instead of sapphire earrings or a trip to France, Missus Fawley has a different gift in mind for your fifteenth birthday. She surprises you with a tutor—you’re bewildered at first, arguing that you’ve consistently been at the top of your class. (“Madam Hawthorne is not here for your academics, my darling,” Fawley explains with her red-lips stretched in a foreboding smile. “Dance is a beneficial skill for any host to have. You’ll practice until your footwork is perfect. You will dance until I say you can stop. And when your feet are aching and bleeding, you will keep dancing.”) 

Each night for your summer holiday, you go to bed, sobbing into your pillows, body trembling from Madam Hawthorne’s cane. 

Everything changes on the eve of your sixteenth birthday.

Like all the years before, Missus Fawley invites the entirety of the pureblood society to the manor. 

You stay with Narcissa and Andromeda, gently placating their concerns when they ask about your unnatural quietness—truthfully, you could no longer breathe in the flounced dress you’ve been forced to wear; the sides of your feet raw from constantly practicing with Madam Hawthorne, head aching from the lights and obnoxious perfumes; stomach gurgling. Bags under your eyes from revising endlessly for your N.E.W.T.S. 

Eyes drooping and neck craning from exhaustion, you don’t at all expect for James Potter to emerge from the crowd; wavy, brown hair sweeping over his glasses, wine-colored suit melting into his dark skin. He holds out his hand to you with a boyish grin. “May I have this dance?” 

You blink, frozen solid for a few moments until Narcissa softly nudges your side. “Y-Yes, if you must,” you splutter, placing your palm in his. 

He leads you to the dance floor as the orchestra plays a song perfect for a waltz along a flower field; your eyes glued to his back. The chandelier hangs overhead as James settles your arms around his neck in one swift motion. You almost step on his feet, spluttering your gratitude when he steadies you by the waist, the heat of his hands permeating your layers of clothing. 

“Isn’t it odd that the birthday celebrant wasn’t dancing all this time?” he says, pulling you in for a twirl. 

“I assume the others were all too afraid to deal with my mother,” you reply timidly. “She’s quite overprotective, you see.” 

“Who? That tall lady over there by Missus Black who’s currently glaring at me?” James chuckles into your ear as you step closer to hear his heartbeat. “She couldn’t possibly terrify me.”

“Lily says thank you, by the way.” 

“Oh? For what?”

“Letting her copy off your Defense Against the Dark Arts essay—she’s downright shite at the subject. Don’t tell her I said that, though.”

You laugh along with him, and you find that you could rest in his arms forever.

But, as your dance with him comes to an end, so does your wistful reverie. 

When most of the guests have left the scene, and when the lights have dimmed, Mother presents to you her real gift—your debut in the wizarding society. She leads you to a room, one where you’ve never ventured before. It’s deep past the cellars, where cobwebs and dust bunnies grow. (Before you enter, Narcissa grips your hand firmly, a look of dread and urgency in her eyes. “Be brave,” is all that she says, encasing you in her arms.) 

In this dark room, you see Abraxas and his wife, Walburga, Cygnus, the Notts, the Goyles, and more people you recognize, all dressed in their finest black cloaks—as though it were a funeral instead of a birthday. In the center of it all, is your mother, Agatha, with a man kneeling in front of her. 

“What is this?” you ask in alarm, frantically searching for answers. The man struggles against his rope, binds, screams and pleas muffled by the cloth shoved in his mouth. The sight of his bruises makes you all but retch. “Mother, what is going on?” 

Walburga is the first to step forward, her lips painted blood-red against her ashen skin, curving into an edacious smile. She cradles the back of your head to her chest. “My lovely dear, it has been the utmost privilege watching you grow. Your mother is certainly proud of you, we all are. Tonight, just as our sons and daughters before you, we offer you our blessing on this very special day.” 

“You know of the Unforgivables, right, my child?” Her voice is a sweet, ruthless cadence in your ear; her touch, like worms crawling on your skin as she places your wand in your hand. You bite down on your tongue, swallowing each breath as the walls threaten to cave in on you. Your fingers forcibly shake in terror and you worry that you might snap your wand in half if you aren’t careful. “The Cruciatus, the Imperius, and—?”

“The killing curse,” you breathe out, ever-so stiff in her hold. You watch as Abraxas kicks the man to the ground; you dig your nails deep into your palm to keep from flinching. 

“That’s right, little one,” says Walburga, tracing your jaw with a morbid sense of satisfaction. She holds your chin in place as Abraxas tears the cloth from the man’s mouth. It’s worse now. You hear his desperate begging and his guttural cries for help. “Muggles,” she spits the word out like venom. “Look at them. They’re filthy. Infecting our blood with theirs.”

“Kill him,” Walburga says, a delicate whisper, as though she had asked for a cup of tea. “Kill him and you’ll have proved your worth to us.” 

“No! No, please!” The man struggles against Abraxas’s arms. “Please! I have a family! A c-child!”

You stagger backwards, nearly losing your grip on your wand. You look to your mother for help. “I—!”

“Kill him, pet!” Bellatrix cackles from across the room, teeth bared viciously, eagerly beckoning for you to come forward. “Make sure you mean it! Otherwise it won’t hurt!”

“You know the words,” says Walburga, lifting your pliable arm—a puppeteer controlling its ragdoll. “Say it.”

The man before you is real. He’s a real person with a real family anxiously waiting for him to come home. His children worried sick for their father. How can they just stand there and expect you to kill him? “Mother, please—I can’t. I w-wont.” Your breathing grows labored, hot tears pricking your eyes; the man screams and yells, and the sound echoes ceaselessly in your ears. “I don’t. . .  I don’t understand.”

Agatha Fawley closes her eyes, and you understand perfectly. 

Each sob wrecks your body and the tears endlessly flow from your ears, you hiccup and shiver; blood pooling from the bite in your tongue. “I can’t do this—please!”

“You will.”

You close your eyes just as a flash of unforgiving green shoots from your wand. “Avada Kedavra!”

The man falls limp to the floor, and so does your wand. Walburga coos and drowns you in a sea of shallow praises, the men offer their congratulations, but all you hear is the sound of a lifeless body dropping to the ground. 

A man who you just killed by your wand, in your home. 

That night, the four walls of your bedroom bear witness to your anguish—you cry until you throw up on the floor, body lurching and quivering on the freezing red oak. 

“Do you get it now?” says Agatha as she enters your room, the faintest of sunlight streaming through the windows. She bends down and cups your face in her palms. “This is your world from now on.” 

You rip her hands away from you, gritting your teeth. “I don’t want to live in your world—not anymore! I don’t care about all this! Magic, wealth, and all these things mean nothing if I have to kill innocent people! You’re a monster!” 

“Good.” Fawley’s voice is cold as she stands up, lifting her chin as her eyes glaze impassively. “That means you’re ready for your next lesson.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I said I was done!” you retort, sore from crying.

“Don’t you see?” says Fawley, pausing underneath the door frame, gaze ruthlessly slicing towards you. “We will destroy them from the inside out. Walburga, Abraxas, Tom Riddle. All of them, one by one. That is our true duty.” 

As she turns to leave, she adds coldly, “Ready yourself. I’ll be teaching you Occlumency during your summer break.” Then she slams the door shut, leaving you all alone in your room. 

When you return to school after the winter holidays, you’re forced to pretend that you hadn’t taken the life of an innocent Muggle. 

‘Do not let them see you are afraid.’ 

“Unfortunately, flaming red hair and hand-me-down robes will not complement my dress—it’s crimson taffeta, you see, handcrafted only by the finest tailors in Italy,” you say dismissively to the ragtag of Gryffindors before you, Vittoria Zabini and Isadora Bulstrode giggling at your side. The Prewett boy visibly wilts and you almost give in—almost. But everyone must play their part in this world. You know that if you show a sliver of weakness, Vittoria and Isadora will be happy enough to report to their mothers—vying for the pedestal you’ve been put on by their parents. 

For the final blow, you scrunch your nose in disgust, slamming your Divination textbook close. “Can you even afford anywhere in Hogsmeade for a date, Prewett?”

(Walburga would Avada you herself if she caught you in such a place with such a wizard. You’re more terrified of what she might ask you to do to Gideon—someone she deems as a blood traitor. You refuse to utter another Unforgivable. You just won’t.) 

“Oh, you cruel wench!” Marlene McKinnon steps forward and before anyone could take another breath, she slaps you in the face. And, finally, you feel something other than the guilt of taking someone’s life.

Your cheek stings from the impact, your ears ringing with the sound of your friends asking if you’re alright and Dorcas Meadowes roaring about how you deserved it—well, you’re not about to disagree. You move your jaw about, cradling the side of your face as you sigh impassively—oh, it’s nothing compared to the etiquette lessons of Agatha Fawley. “My mother will certainly hear about this, McKinnon.”

“You and your mother can kiss my arse!” she shrieks, eyes ablaze.

“Gideon didn’t deserve that, and you know it,” Lily argues fervidly, eyes sickle-shaped as she looks back at the Prewett twin’s dejected expression. “How could you even say that?” 

“How could I not, Lily darling?” you reply off-handedly with a roll of your eyes.

Lily flinches. In her gaze, all you see looking back at you is the Muggle father who had cried out relentlessly for one last glimpse of his children. She stares at the badger emblem on your cloak with disdain, and you with a great deal of pity. “You are, without a doubt, the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen.” 

She has the softest voice you’ve ever heard, but it hurts you all the same. 

You’ve scrubbed your skin raw in the bath, hoping that you’d wash the feel of your sins off your hands—it’s all for naught. Agatha might be a monster in your eyes, but you’re the fool that played right into her act.

You get to your feet, meeting her eye-to-eye. In a low whisper, lips close to her ear, you say, “There are far worse creatures out there, Evans. You’re lucky you’ve been born only a Muggleborn.”

Fortunate that she won’t ever have to play the role that you’ve been forced to. You feel an overwhelming envy towards her—effortless beauty, pure and untainted hands, a kind heart that draws in every one and every person. Compared to her, you must be a dirtied, black swan in a lake that’s only meant for white swans like Lily Evans. 

And she will have more charming princes and truehearted fairies on her side than you could ever hope to gain. 

“Say another word and I will tear your hair from that pretty head of yours,” Marlene snarls, pushing Lily behind her.

Oh, how easy they make it for you. 

You smile in delight. “So you think I’m pretty?”

Marlene lunges.

(You are so tired of it all.)

Every night of your summer holiday, you spend it writhing on the floor, Agatha’s lessons on Occlumency taking its toll. She grows harsher, stricter, and more apathetic than the sun beating down on the manor windows. (“Again!” Fawley demands as you collapse to the ground, drenched in sweat and your head numb from her probing. “Do you think the Dark Lord will be lenient with you? Get up! We’re going again! If you want this to end, you will endure this without error!”) 

While your peers are out swimming in lakes and racing around in Quidditch brooms, you’re stuck within the confinements of your home. But you are not that naive, you’ve seen the headlines of the Daily Prophet. A coalition known as Death Eaters have begun making their mark on the wizarding society. There are rumors of a great, sinister power rising. People go missing everyday, and you worry that this might be the world that your mother has been preparing you for all this time. 

But why you? Why must you carry this burden all alone? Who will pick up the pieces of your battered soul when the weight of your burden crushes you entirely? 

There are times when you wish you never left the orphanage at all. 

A week into your summer break, you find out that your mother is dying. Violent coughing, dizzy spells, jaundiced skin, her eyes bloodshot, and the healer frequenting her bedroom quarters. You’re not allowed inside, of course, but you can hear her feeble voice and the doctor’s stern orders. 

You also learn that she’s absolutely insane—but that is a fact you’ve come to terms with years ago. One night, during dinner, you’d let it slip that you have your suspicions of a classmate being inflicted with a lycan’s curse. Agatha Fawley reacts just about as one would expect her to. 

“A werewolf? In Hogwarts?” Fawley staggers to her office, the tower of neatly-piled documents and research reports from the Ministry now fluttering to the floor. “No, no, no. . .” she utters to herself, panic seeping within her skin. It’s the most frazzled you have ever seen the great Agatha Fawley. You stare at her unraveling from the threshold of the room, unsure of what to do. “Dumbledore has gone mad! That old loon! What was he thinking? Sheltering a beast within the castle!” 

“Don’t worry, my dear,” says Agatha as she reaches for you, a ghastly smile on her face and a near-empty look in her eyes. Your brows pinch together in confusion—you hadn’t been worried about that student at all. “I’ll have that monster out of the castle in no time. The Ministry will have no choice but to listen to me.” 

“That’s it,” she mutters, haphazardly grabbing for her feather quill and blank parchment. “Perhaps a law to forbid werewolves from ever integrating into society. School, house properties—can you imagine if they manage to infiltrate the Ministry? Everything I’ve worked so hard for!” 

“Mother?” you call out hesitantly, crossing the distance, hand outstretched as Fawley slips on her footing, a muttered profanity under her breath. The woman before you is unrecognizable, a sallow casing of a moribund soul. “Mother, please, Remus is no threat to the castle,” you plead, ripping her hand away from the quill. “You can’t do this!” 

“Do not tell me what I can or cannot do!” Agatha seethes through her teeth, chest heaving as she glowers at you. “Everything I have done, I have done for you! Yet, you still continue to fight me? I should have left you in that orphanage to rot while I had the chance!” 

“Well then, why didn’t you?” you scream, pushing her away as the words force themselves out of your throat. “Maybe that Muggle father would have still been alive if you did! Maybe I wouldn’t have to suffer so much! To hell with you and your duty!” 

Fawley laughs to herself, a weak and feeble sound. At first, you think it’s in response to you, but then you watch her drag her palm down her face, unblinking when her fingers appear to be drenched in blood. You take a step forward and there’s crimson trickling down her nose, a pallid contrast against her skin. “Ha,” she chuckles once more, keeling over to the ground as she stares up at the ceiling, blood on her flesh. “Merlin, what have I done? I–I’ve gone too far—even the Gods cannot save me.”

The despair in her voice is confounding. “Come here, my love,” she croaks from the floor, reaching out to you with bloodstained hands. Reluctantly, you sink to her side, gnawing on your lower lip as she cups your face in her palms—how many times have you been in this position before? “I’m sorry,” she sobs, shoulders trembling. “Oh, my darling, I am so sorry. I’m afraid I’ve doomed the both of us.” She traces the frame of your jaw and cheekbones. “My child, my beautiful child. What have I done? Will you forgive me?” 

You realize that this must be the consequence of living in a constant lie. To be an imitation of a human person, with no room for grief, rage, fear, hope or even a semblance of love. You stay silent, drowning in the arms of your adoptive mother. “I am to die soon,” says Agatha with utmost finality, eyes boring into yours. “But you are better than me. Braver. Far stronger than I have ever been. I know this must be the heaviest burden a child can carry, but you must understand that the fate of this world is at stake. I am so sorry, my love, but I must leave this duty to you.” 

She lets her head hang limply. “I-I am tired, as well. I’ve pushed away everyone and anyone for this. To do what is right, to endure what is hard—that is what I’ve lived by all these years.”

“And so must you.” Agatha has been mourning all this time, but not for her life. 

You hate her. 

You hate her with all your heart. 

But even monsters need a heart to breathe. 

A month passes by in a blur, and you are now set to meet the ill-famed Tom Riddle. You know that he was a student of Professor Dumbledore; that Narcissa is extremely terrified of him, and that Lucius Malfoy idolizes him to a fault. (“This is the moment I have been preparing you for all these years,” your mother tells you, shields of Occlumency glimmering in her deep blue eyes. “Do not let him in no matter what.”) Soon thereafter, Missus Fawley apparates the both of you to the Malfoy manor. 

The dining room is bleak, befitting of a Malfoy; curtains drawn, fireplace idly crackling, and hushed murmurs upon your arrival. All eyes are on you, and you’re lucky to have dressed in your Sunday best. At the head of the table, you see Tom Riddle, with Abraxas and Cyprian Nott sitting on each side. You hear something large slithering across the polished floors—your breath hitches at the sight of a monstrous serpent curling around Tom Riddle’s chair. The glass chandelier chimes overhead and you wish it would fall from where he sits on his shrewd throne. 

(You find Regulus Black sitting beside Narcissa, cheeks flushed, body quivering as his skin pales to a deathly color; holding onto his left arm for dear life. And, your heart just physically breaks. You don’t understand why this is the world you must live in.) 

“Come here, my dear,” Tom Riddle hisses, urging you forward with a serpentine leer in his eyes. You feel like a circus lion forced to perform its tricks. 

Tom Riddle is handsome—you notice begrudgingly. A menacing kind of beauty that entices the weak and preys on the vulnerable. (You would not be one of his victims, you vow, raising your own walls against him.) His gaze drills into your own—instantly, you feel his magic snaking around in your head, searching for hidden truths. The sensation is staggering, dizzying, and you’re nearly brought to your knees. You clench your jaw at his Legilimency—obstinate bastard. 

“This one is lasting longer than your son, Abraxas.” Riddle chuckles, his finger tracing the curve of your jaw, as Abraxas forces a smile. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he leaves your mind. You release the breath you’ve been holding for the last thirty seconds. He finds none of your secrets, and you suppress a vindictive grin. Riddle glances at your mother. “How fascinating.” 

You wonder if his intrigue will keep you alive for another day or bring you closer to your death. 

“My Lord,” you greet windedly as you press a kiss to the cold signet of his ring. “What an honor to stand before you today. Although, I could have done with a more polite greeting from you.” 

Bellatrix snarls at you in warning. “Do not speak to the Dark Lord that way, you insolent brat!” 

“Enough, Bella,” Tom rasps, flicking her concern away, barely so much as sparing her a glance. “I’ve no need for a little girl to come to my defense.” She visibly wilts at his dismissive words and you almost feel pity for her—almost. Then, you remember this is the man who treats the Cruciatus curse like a treat to give away freely to children—now, you pity Bellatrix fully. The curly-haired girl twitches at the sight of him toying with his wand, Nagini’s forked tongue flicking in anticipation. 

“Tell me, my dear,” says Riddle, trailing his gaze down to your arm. “Has your mother arranged a marriage for you yet? Much like our dear Cissa here.”

You grow frigid in his hold. “Not at all, my Lord. Mother thought it best if I focused on my studies before anything else.” 

Tom hums in thought, eventually releasing you from his clutches. “I see. . . Then, have you considered other ways of pledging your allegiance to our cause?” 

Instinctively, you hide your left arm from his sight. “My Lord,” you begin, wondering how much longer you can address him as such without throwing up in his lap. “The only reason there isn’t much backlash to your. . . merciful endeavors is because Mother and I have ensured that the Daily Prophet’s eyes are elsewhere. The Ministry is blindsided, and no one expects a mondaine darling to be under your influence,” you say, desperation pouring from each word. 

You don’t want to carry his Mark. Not ever. You can endure it—you can endure it all so long as you aren’t eternally condemned to his name. 

“Take that away, and you’ll face significant repercussions,” you threaten boldly. “I promise you that. They look away because of me.” 

For every village and family terrorized, you had shifted the public’s attention to your facetious behavior. Throwing galas left and right, appearing out in public with various partners—you had done it all to bury the looming war. Rita Skeeter is at your beck and call. For every attack, your face is plastered on the front page. For every cry for help, the Ministry is busy dealing with trivial matters that your mother has proposed—such as anti-werewolf bills. 

And Voldemort would never notice that you’ve been thieving covert information from right under his nose and delivering it anonymously to a rising organization known as the Order of the Phoenix. 

(You’re also not pleased that they share similarities to your non de plume, the Firebird, but you suppose that is the least of your worries.) 

If Molly Weasley comes across a sealed letter on the steps of Grimmauld Place, with complete details and addresses of Death Eater hiding places, it is no one’s business but the Order’s—and yours. 

For every life taken, you remember that Muggle father in your mother’s cellar. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow—but you’ll dismantle the pureblood society yourself. All of them, one by one. 

Tom Riddle smiles, and you realize that no one threatens him and gets away with it unscathed. 

A day before you’re set to return to Hogwarts for your seventh-year, the Malfoy Manor is pervaded by your gut-wrenching screams. 

There you are, little Firebird with your wings clipped, writhing on the floor of Lucius Malfoy’s guest room—the Cruciatus curse surging through your veins like molten lava threatening to burn you from the inside out. You hear Narcissa and Missus Fawley’s voices blend into a cacophony of panic. They’re shouting for various things: warm towels, bandages, essence of Dittany, and water. Regulus’s hold on you is tight, near-suffocating, even. 

But you don’t feel anything other than the mutilated flesh of your arm. 

You scream, cry, and scream again—you feel his magic over and over again. Branding you. The ink blends into your skin—but it’s not your skin anymore. A part of you now will always belong to him. 

Bile rises to your throat. 

Tears fall from your eyes. 

(How cold is the floor? You don’t even care anymore.)

And, the worst part is that no one can see it. Riddle charmed it perfectly to coalesce against your skin tone. But you see it. You see the skull and the stupid, wriggling snake. You see Tom Riddle’s monstrous glee as he drives his wand into your arm—Abraxas and Lucius holding you down as you thrash and flail. Your only reprieve was your mother was there, cradling your head to her chest, blocking out their malignant laughter. (You can’t believe you never noticed, but your mother had been branded, too.) 

“I’ll. . . kill him,” you say to yourself, blood and saliva trickling from your lips. If it is the last thing you’ll ever do, you will have Voldemort’s head on a silver platter. 

“Don’t be foolish,” Narcissa scolds, tipping your mouth upwards to swallow the drops of Dittany. “None of us have the power to do that. We just have to make do with the life that we’re given.” 

“I promise. . .  you,” you gurgle through the searing pain, gasping for air, clawing at her arms. “I’ll destroy them all.” 

You pass out in her arms. 

When you awake, you’re on a train to Hogwarts, left arm bandaged and hidden under the sleeve of your school robes. 

You don’t bother attending your classes—seeing no more purpose in Transfiguration and Herbology when you’re just a pawn in someone’s, everyone’s plans, apparently. The professors express their concern when you no longer turn in your homework or assigned projects. Once again, you barely see the need to. Your meals during breakfast, lunch, and dinner go untouched. You stay away from Narcissa, Vittoria, Isadora, Lucius, and Regulus. Your only friends, Amos and Amelia, stay away from you, too, having seen news of your promiscuity in the Daily Prophet. You scoff internally—you’ve never even had your first kiss yet. But even that seems like a distant dream. 

You are tired. 

How much longer do you have to play this part? How much more of yourself do you have to give? 

You’re only seventeen—how can you even hope to defeat Voldemort like this? 

The castle walls have dulled, and you drift through the corridors like a wearisome ghost. The once colorful world that you have been brought into now pales in the face of curses, spilt blood, and the Mark on your arm. You wonder what would happen—if you just run away now. 

Why should you be the one to bear the burdens of this duty thrust upon you? Why do people like James Potter and Sirius Black find loyalty and a real family within Hogwarts, and there is no one willing to fight for you? 

Perhaps, you have no one else to blame but yourself. 

Rita Skeeter publishes her article on the growing rift between you and Vittoria Zabini—claiming that you had stolen her beau from her.

You toss the newspaper into the fire. 

Some nights, you don’t bother returning to the Hufflepuff dormitories anymore. You know what they think. You know what they say behind your back. 

For the third time this week, you find yourself at the top of the Astronomy Tower, legs dangling from the edge of the window, eyes blankly staring at the horizon—if you run towards there, you wonder how long it will take before they find you. The cold nips at your cheeks, but you barely feel anything other than a gnawing emptiness.

Your gaze falls to the ground below, thirty, fifty meters from where you sit. 

Maybe. . . 

If you move a few inches forward. . . 

If you just fly. 

You’d be free. 

“Oh, I didn’t know this window was occupied.” You loosely turn your head to find Remus Lupin standing before you with a crooked grin, hands shoved in his pockets as he awkwardly shuffles one foot over the other. He raises his arms up in surrender. “I guess I’ll. . . find somewhere else to brood.” 

I don’t care. 

Go away. 

I want to die.

If I disappear, would you care? Would anyone? 

You rest your head back on the windowsill, hugging your legs to your chest. 

Starlings chirp and fly past you—how liberating it must be, to soar in the skies. But all you can do is watch enviously. Powerless, little songbird with no more lullabies to sing and no more wings to fly with. 

You let your weight shift over the window. 

Maybe if you fall, you could see what it’s like to fly. 

“H-Hey! Don’t—!” Remus quickly snatches your hand and pulls you into his embrace—the both of you tumbling to the floor. You feel his chest heaving, arms trembling around you, and the sound of his rapid heartbeat. His eyes are wide as he looks over your face for any injuries. “Why would you do that? Are you mad?”

You sigh. 

Maybe tomorrow, then. 

“Oi!” Remus pokes your shoulder. “Don’t just ignore me! You scared the piss out of me, you know? Bloody hell.” His shoulders slump in relief, and he takes another peek at you—just to make sure you’re still in front of him. “A-Are you okay?” he asks softly, afraid to spook you further away. “Do you want to talk about it or anything?” 

You shrug. “Nothing to talk about.”

His gaze flickers from you to the window ledge. “I think that’s a big something to talk about, honestly. B-But I get it. Really. No judgment.” 

An unwilling chortle escapes past your lips. Remus Lupin and his marauding bunch of lions would never understand the burden you have to carry each day for the rest of your life.

Remus scratches the back of his head with a wolfish grin. “Hey. . . listen. We don’t know each other all that well—so this is going to sound terribly weird. But would you like a hug?”

He opens his arms wide enough for you to fit—and you stare at him in horror. “C’mon, then. It really seems like you need it. And honestly, I kind of need it, too, especially after a scare like that.” 

You stay silent. 

He shakes his hands, beckoning you forward, golden hair flopping over his eyes. “I don’t bite. Promise. One hug and we’ll go on pretending like we don’t know each other tomorrow. Marauder’s honor.”

“I haven’t done anything to deserve your kindness,” you say with a prominent sneer—certainly not kindness from him. It must be another prank of theirs. You wait for Peter Pettigrew and Sirius to jump out and spray you with garlic juice. 

Remus smiles. “I think you’ll find that my kindness is freely given.” 

You nibble on your bruised lip. 

Could you really? 

Maybe just this once. 

You’re only human, magic as you are. 

You take one step forward. 

Then another. 

Another.

Until you fall right into his arms, and you inhale the scent of honey, milk raspberry chocolate, and cedarwood. The warmth of his arms around you is real. His voice is real. He whispers cruel words into your ear, “You’re alright, love. Let it out. I’m here.” You burrow your head deep in the crook of his neck. The sound of his heartbeat is real. He tightens his hold around you, and the ground underneath feels real. For a few moments, you don’t feel like you’re floating away into oblivion. 

Maybe you’d stay alive—for a few more days. 

To do what is right. 

To endure. 

Perhaps, tomorrow will be easier—if such kindness is real, maybe you’re allowed to seek it for yourself every now and then. 

But your nightmare doesn’t end when you’re awake—it takes you by the throat when you find yourself summoned to the Malfoy Manor on Hallow’s Eve. 

You’re not the only one caught by surprise. One by one, Tom Riddle’s followers apparate into the dining room, stumbling inside with a bewildered expression. Their Dark Lord has called for them in the dead of night—it must be for something important. You stiffen, sinking into Lucius’s shadow. You search for your mother but she doesn’t appear to be anywhere in the room. Someone brushes their hands against yours—Narcissa. She stands by your side, face impassive, her pupils frantically trying to make sense of the situation. 

Then, Tom Riddle finally apparates into the room, startling you for a fraction of a second. Not far behind is Abraxas, Cyprian, the Lestranges, Bellatrix, and finally—

Your mother. 

Fawley looks worse for wear, her skin sinking into her bones, clothes tattered, and her face littered with bruises. Bellatrix drags her across the floor, hair wrapped around her hands. 

You move to stop Bellatrix, anger blinding your vision—Narcissa tightens her grip on your wrist, subtly shaking her head. You rip your hand away from her. 

“We have found a traitor in our midst!” Bellatrix cackles, throwing your mother to the ground—your fists clench, swallowing each lump in your throat with rage blinding your vision. “I caught the bitch helping the McKinnons escape!” 

“No,” you whisper, dread knocking you backwards—it just isn’t possible. The two of you had always been careful. Bellatrix hits her again, and you have to restrain yourself from marching forward and cursing her from where she stands. 

One moment of weakness, that is all Tom Riddle needs. He finds you in the crowd with ease. The crowd of Death Eaters part like the red sea, and you steel yourself with Occlumency before you are sharply pulled forward, the mark on your left arm blistering as though a hundred needles are driving into your skin repeatedly.

“If the mother is a blood traitor, the child is sure to follow!” Bellatrix hisses, spit flying into the floor, her eyes gleaming with maniacal glee.

Voldemort cruelly holds your jaw in his hand, nails digging into your flesh, threatening to break through your bones. “Is this true?” he asks, drawing blood from your skin. “Tell me!” 

“No!” you cry out, kicking and punching to get away from his hold. “It’s not—let me go! That is my mother! You’re hurting her! She’s sick!”

“That,” Riddle’s eyes flash with hostility, breath hot on your skin, “is a betrayer to our cause.” 

“She’s not!” you scream.

“How did she find out, then?” Voldemort flings you to the ground—immediately, you rush to your mother, gathering her in your arms. Tom Riddle cocks his head and you’re blasted into the walls—you feel his Legilimency trying to force its way in, exploiting your pain and shock. But you won’t let him in. He’ll have to pry your memories from your cold, dead body.

The pain is searing—you’re being torn apart from limb to limb. Your mark is burning, head throbbing from a concussion, and still fighting against Riddle’s magic. Through your blurry haze, you see Lucius holding Narcissa back from running to you. “We’re not traitors!” you cry out desperately, crawling pathetically to your mother’s listless body. “I swear!”

Voldemort sneers just before he points his wand at your mother. “Crucio!”

“No! No! Stop it! Please! Please, stop it!” you beg on the ground as your mother helplessly writhes on the floor, the Cruciatus curse reducing the once austere Agatha Fawley to a whimpering mess. “You’re killing her!”

Tom snarls, “Good.”

Bellatrix digs her claws into your neck, her laughter resounding throughout the manor—you swallow the sobs down your throat as she drives her wand into your flesh. “Your mummy over there is done for. But you—our precious jewel, you can still prove your loyalty to our Dark Lord.” 

She puts your wand and closes your fist over the wood—your eyes grow wide as you thrash in her hold, screaming as she forces you to look at Fawley. “Kill her. And you may live.” 

“Just say it,” Bellatrix whispers in your ear. “Two little words. You’ve already done this before, pet—the second time should be easy enough!”

“No!” you knock your head back into her nose, slipping away as her hold loosens and she screams profanities at you—but to your misfortune, Voldemort captures you, like a defenseless bunny running into a starving snake. 

“Mum, wake up, please!” 

You cry out helplessly, sobbing as Voldemort forces you to watch the life gradually fade away from her blue eyes. Her magic envelops you—and you remember warm holidays spent by the fire, Muggle storybooks before bed, surprising you with breakfast in bed for your birthdays. It’s a warm feeling, a stark contrast to Tom Riddle’s invasive magic. Her voice echoes in your head one last time.

“Thank you for showing me what love feels like, if not for a moment. I am sorry I could not show it as a proper mother would.”

“Kill her!” Voldemort rages into your ear. 

You watch as Fawley’s eyes drift to a close, an act of resignation. “It’s okay, my darling,” she whispers tiredly. “I. . . can rest now.”

For the second time in your life, you point your wand at someone’s heart—this time, it’s your mother’s. 

“What are you waiting for?” Bellatrix asks, twitching menacingly. “Kill her! Before I do it myself!” 

There’s a faint smile on her face. 

“I’m. . . sorry.”

Those are Agatha Fawley’s last words before you take away her life.

The incantation falls so delicately from your lips, an act of mercy for the woman you once called your mother and your greatest tormentor. 

But your eyes are on one person and one person only.

Tom Riddle. 

“Avada Kedavra!”

He will know your pain.

Not today, not tomorrow.

But you’ll destroy them all, one by one.

a/n: THERE IS KISSING IN THE NEXT SCENE I PROMISE.... AND TRUST MY LILY LOVERS WE WILL GET OUR REDEMPTION ARC SKDJHFGKJH and sirius lovers too,, but yall are well-fed every day so.. next part has the yule ball, likee,, there's no way THAT becomes angsty.. if you saw a plot-hole, no you didn't just CRY and enjoy sdhgsdf... come tell me what you thought!! (if you have any constructive criticisms, just come to my dms BUT PLS BE VERY GENTLE.... oh and don't hesitate to tell me if i accidentally wrote anything super specific like height, skin color, etc.!!) i promise to better in the final part!!!! (there's only two parts to this fic.) I LOVE YEW I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS STORY AAAAAAAAAAAA

[divinesolas]

the shortest marriage tour | finale

summary: you go through a whirlwind of events; struggles with wedding preparations, feasts in your honor, wedding ceremonies and the fun that comes with being married.

w.c: 6.6k

c.w: fluff, also a good amount of smut, father daemon, idk how weddings work, not proofread

a.n: i had so much fun with this series thank you all for the love !! sorry this took a little longer than expected i did not think this part would be so long 😭😭 MORE BEN TO COME TRUST !

benjicot series taglist: @poppyflower-22 @earth4angels @godofstory @melissaliciousx @jessie123878 @callsignwidow @kezibear @knight-of-flowerss @kitkat1sstuff @valdezthg @multyfangirl @duck-duck-goose2 @charvsz @bxdbxtxh15

part one - part two

As you had expected your parents were not happy with your wish to get married under the weirwood tree. Your father had been especially furious and the two of you got into a screaming match. You two have always had a playfully hateful relationship but you have never hated in the man and he you yet in these moments it was almost as if you two were enemies. Even your mother seemed more willing to give into the idea but your father was firm in denial which led you to now where the two of you would not even speak to one another.

You spent the majority of time with your mother though it was tense, she sort of danced around you as you mostly took reins on your wedding, picking out the food, contacting the seamstress for your dress it shocked your that your mother did not seem to be as involved until she dropped the bomb on you. “Your grandsire wishes for there to be a feast in your honor at the red keep. He,, wants to see you wedded in the sept.” you smash a glass on the ground as you glare at her. “And you tell me this now?!” “He is my father and your king, your grandsire he wishes to see you married,” she sighs as she watches you begin to pace around the room.

“So i am just meant to throw all the planning i have made out of the fucking window?!” Her face hardens, “I am your mother-” “then you should have told me! i would have been angry and furious but i would have compromised because he is the king but most of all you are my mother, and i shall always listen to my mother first.” Her face drops at your words, she walks over to you and grips your shoulders pressing her forehead against yours. “I am sorry. I should have told you sooner but you just seemed to happy and i dont know i did not want to ruin that for you. Maybe just wait a while longer to inform you.”

You sigh and take a step back before nodding. “I understand, well what am i to do with all ive done?” “We could hold a smaller event there?” You run you hands down along your face as you try not to curse. “So i am bound forever to have a boring wedding in front of the sept with every stuck up lord in all the kingdoms who wish to kiss my ass.” She laughs, “You sound so much like your father.”

You frown at the mention of your father and she grips your hand. “Speak to him.” You try to turn away at her words but she keeps you firmly in front of her. “He will never admit it but he misses you he has been mopping about since you two fought.”

You sigh. You hate to admit it but you miss him too and it pained you to see your mother upset that you too were not in a good place. So that night you walk out onto the beach to see him sitting on the dock staring out into the ocean. He does not turn to you when you sit down next to him but there is enough space between you two you are able to place the bottle of wine you had brought down with you.

“its seems we both lose father, i am to be married by a sept in kings landing.” He turns to you as you take a long sip from the bottle. “by whos decree?” “your brother, the king.” He takes the bottle as soon as you place it down and take a long chug from it. He sighs, “i will fight this, my daughter will not be married in a fucking sept.” “why? because its not the wedding you wished for me?” “because its not the wedding you want.”

You let out a stiff laugh with no joy in it as you admire the ocean. “im sorry.” You two sit in silence before he places a hand on your shoulder. No more words are exchanged but they dont need to be the two of you understand one another, actions speak louder than words.

The next day he argues against you getting married in the sept, much to everyone’s disbelief he flies out the next morning to kings landing to argue against it. It would be wrong for both of your beliefs, neither of you believe in the new gods and it would be out right disrespectful to both of you. After days of arguing with them, that you now know were the hightowers not so much your grandsire, daemon returned successful telling you a feast would be held in your honor but nothing more.

You are overjoyed and immediately run to write to benjicot about the news. True to his word the two of you had been exchanging letters back and forth since you left, the letters have been sweet, he tells you what he’s been up to, updates about the construction of the walk which is pretty much done and he even lets oscar and kermit write little notes to you asking you to come back because its boring with you around.

You had thought marriage would be miserable and leaving dragonstone would be much worse but this just proved to you your life would be full of a lot more joy then you had thought, you miss them, you miss being in raventree hall in the riverlands you miss the bright colored grass and waking up to the sound of ravens crowing and cattle moo’ing outside. You missed him.

The letters were nice but they could not fill the gap being without him made. You tended to tell him about your family and about the wedding preparations. The letters were always very sweet and normal until one day about one week away from your wedding a particular long letters is sent by ben to you and you were particularly curious about since he took much longer to write this one.

My love,

I hope all is still well since you last wrote to me. I apologize for the long wait i had been unsure of how to word my feelings properly as of late. I have been feeling particularly, off, as of late. Nothing bad of course but you have always run through my mind rampantly but as of recently i have begun to dream of you. See you when i close my eyes and when i think of you i begin to lose control of myself. My body my mind shivers and shakes at the thought of you. I should not say these things but it has been the only thing i have managed to think of. I imagine your lips, the way they had felt on mine but i imagine them going lower down my jaw to my neck down my chest.

Yet i would never allow you to go lower it would be rude you are a princess, i must worship you. find myself on my knees and defiling you. I imagine the way you would sound as i slipped my fingers inside you. would you scream in delight? or are you the type to sink your teeth into the side of my neck to silence yourself? would you be able to contain yourself as i lick at your most sacred area? would you pull on my hair has i wrap my lips around you bud? and when i stand to slide my way into you would your nails run marks down my back i am sure to be teased about?

i would wear your marks with honor. take me however you wish i would allow it i would let you do anything to me. I have imagined this all too well, so well in fact i have carved it into my memory that every night i must have to act upon my urges with my hand.

It is sinful and this letter is scandalous but i cannot stop myself. I dream of your perfume and the way it fills my lungs i could never get enough of you. Do you picture me? as i picture you?

with all my love, ben.

A knock on your door has you screaming and you slam a book on the letter as the maid walks into the room. One of your hands cover your mouth as you rush to take deep breaths. The maid looks startled at you as she almost drops the tray she had been holding in her hands. “tea?” you gesture her to place it on your table and she rushes to do so before she quickly leaves and you cannot manage to get your breath back to normal as you peer down at the letter once more. that monster! he had rejected all your teasing touches and scandalous words during your month there only to send such a letter to you now? right before the feast and your wedding? You stand up to pace as you think about what to do.

You first thought is to burn the letter and act like this never happened. But you did not want that. You liked the letter, a lot. Much more then you would like to admit with the way your soaked. You hate him. Why would he do this to you? An idea suddenly pops into your head and a grin appears on your face. You can play his game too, and win.

You rummage around in your drawers before finding what you wanted before running back to your desk and getting a paper in ink out before writing to him.

my beloved,

well hello to you too. you are certainly posses the best penmanship out of all the men ive ever written to. This was certainly a surprise to open up imagine i had been around my family! how awful. though before i begin i would like to tell you i have been well, and my dress has finally been completed though by your words that certainly does not matter much to you. Have a pictured you? you certainly already know the answer i have told you as much? do you remember the night you had rejected me out in the woods?

i had gone back to my room and touched myself in ways i had hoped you would. did you not hear me? when i cried your name on my lips as i peaked? i tried to be loud enough i guess i will need to try harder. You should know i am never one to be quiet. as for your predictions and thoughts i shall leave you guessing until our fateful wedding night but let me leave you with this. if you shiver at the mere thoughts of me you will certainly love what i plan to do to you.

if you forbid me from going on my knees then i can certainly find other ways to play with you. my hands would slide down your chest as i wrap my hands around your cock and stroke you until you are shaking and then i would push you back onto the bed and ride you until you are seeing stars. i would grab your hand and have your rub my bud as your hips thrusted up to meet mine in a fury and as you grow closer i will tell you to wait. and you’ll wait and wait and wait until you are begging me to let you release and when you do i will not stop. Maybe you’ll flip me over and take me again? who knows im just throwing out ideas.

i hope you’re taking notes as this is what how im expecting our long waited first night to go. since you missed my scent so much i hope this letter brings you some relief. and maybe even my other gift will too, they’re freshly washed maybe you’re disappointed by that you dirty man.

my heart,

you sign your name and grab your lipstick to apply it and press a kiss to the bottom on the page before soaking the letter in way too many sprays of your perfume before you roll it up and slip it into the small pouch you had put one of your pairs of underwear in before tying the small bag to your bird. “Go take this to benjicot.” Your bird flies off down the familiar path its probably done a hundred times by now and you try to shake off your nerves. Maybe you shouldnt have done that. what if someone else gets to it? you won’t know until you see him in the keep as he certainly wont have enough time to get one out to you now.

You ring the bell and ask the maids to run you a cold bath. as cold as they can make it. You begin to feel sticky and you could not stop lightly shaking as your hands itched to bring you some sort of comfort but you forbid yourself until you got into the bath and dismissed the maids knowing nobody would bother you for the rest of the night.

You anxiously await seeing him. you had ridden with your parents and viserys joffrey and aegon in a carriage having left your dragon in raventree not too long ago with some maesters until you return soon. You arrived a day earlier than your siblings and benjicot and rush to see your siblings the second they arrive. You have a quick greeting with them until you urge them to follow you.

“Why the rush dear sister?” “Maybe because she is eager to see her soon to be husband jace.” baela laces her arm through yours and grins at you. “I am excited to meet this mystery man, father even talks highly of him.” “and father talks highly of no one.” rhaena cut in but you merely laugh and shake your head. “Or maybe it is because i am eager to get this feast over with who wants to spend the evening with the fucking hightowers?”

They were completely right. you were more than excited to see ben and looked around the compound for him as soon as you arrived. You force down the pout that grows on your face as you cant seem to see him anywhere and turn to your siblings who all stare with a knowing look. “What? don’t look at me like that?” Jace places a hand on your shoulder but the mischievous grin he has on his face offers you no comfort. “Don’t cry dear sister im sure he will show up soon.” You slap his arm off your shoulder as they begin to laugh and you roll your eyes. “You are an insufferable little shit.”

“she does not deny she is about to cry oh dont cry dear sister.” you knock lucerys on the head and he winces, “once you can hold a fucking sword in your hand then you can speak to me like that.” “You’re so mean sister.” you open your mouth to argue but a whistle behind you and when you turn around a big grin forms on your face. You rush away from your siblings and when you get close enough he wraps you in his arms and spins you around once before setting you back down on the ground and pressing his forehead against yours.

As much as you wish to kiss him you know that would cause too much of a scandal so you simple press a kiss against his cheek as he grins. “I have missed you.” “I missed you a lot more.” You press your head into his neck where you lips are right next to his ear. “Did you like my letter?” He hums as his arms tighten around you, his head dips into the crook of your neck and he takes a long deep breath in. “did i like it?,” you feel him pinch at your side, “You know the answer.” you pull away slightly and look him in the eye. “And what of my gift?” He rubs his nose against yours as he lets out a shaky breath. “the things i have done with your gift are, unspeakable.” you feel the heat build up in your face as you slap him his shoulder and push him away.

“no hugs for us?” You turn to oscar and kermit and you throw your arms around their shoulders. Your siblings had walked over at some point and had begun introducing themselves so when you turn back around it looks like they are full on interrogating him. When you slip your arm though bens he shoots you a smile that screams ‘please save me’. Jace in particular has his arms crossed as he glares at ben, “oh relax jace he is a nice man.” your brother huffs and benjicot wipes a bead of sweat that drops down his forehead.

“You’re scaring him, trust me if he wanted to defile me i gave him many the opportunity yet my purity is in tact.” This has your brother tensing as baela covers her mouth with a laugh, “Whatever are you talking about?” “when i had waited for him in the library in nothing but my silk night gown he merely took off his cloak and told me i must be cold imagine my disappointment.” he deadpans as he looks between the two of you and turns back to you alarmed when ben merely turns away with his ears bright red “tell me you are jesting.” “if it will make you feel better.” “it would.” “then of course i was kidding! do you really think i am so deprave?”

he glares at you as a guard walks over and tells you your parents wished to see you and you turn to ben who squeezes your hand. “i shall see you later.” he lifts up your hand to press a kiss on the back before he walks off with a small wave. “he seems sweet, you pick well dear sister” You smile at baela and thank her as you watch ben walk off with oscar and kermit in his tail. it really hits you that you’re going to be married in a few days time and you cant help but grow more and more excited. “you really like him.” “i do.”

Your afternoon is a blur, you watch as your siblings greet your parents and dreadfully greet alicent and her children who look less than happy to see any of you but you all suck it up for the sake of the day knowing you’ll be gone before the sun even rises tomorrow. You are suddenly rushed to your room to get dressed in some fancy dress and some ridiculous hair that has you itching. its just for one night, you repeat to yourself over and over agin in the hopes you will not tear off your clothes or scratch at your hair so the pins would fall out.

The only thing that brings you relief is seeing benjicot sitting with the rest of your family at the end table with a spot empty right next to you. “well you clean up nicely.” He certainly did. His hair slicked back away from his forehead while outfit is completely black with red accents, if you look closely you could see little ravens stitched into the fabric. a light blush covers his face as he looks you up and down as he smiles, “you are the prettiest woman ive ever seen.” you slap his shoulder lightly as your grin, “and you are the most handsome man ive ever seen” his chest puffs up at your complimentary words and he helps you into your seat.

Your grandsire and your parents give speeches you don’t bother to listen to simply playing with bens fingers under the table until people start coming up to you to give you there congratulations. this was the part you hated the most, where every lord and lady comes up and tells you how happy they are for you and sneakily try to tell you they brought a very nice gift that you will probably never look at and you have to sit there with a painful smile as benjicot took over as you barely even wanted to look at these people. He was a much better communicator than you were and everyone who spoke to him seemed please you were happy at least one of you would be good at dealing with the stuck up lord and ladies.

Except when he walked up and you could tell he was growing angry. you place a hand on his chest and scoot up further in your chair in a silent motion telling him you’ll handle this. “lord braken,” he bows his head and aeron practically hides behind his father, “what a pleasure.” benjicot laces his fingers with yours and squeezed them tightly as he tried not to speak. “congratulations are in order princess what a wonderful occasion.” you grind your jaw as you smile and nod, “thank you lord braken.” He does allow his eyes to look at benjicot for a moment before he looks back at you. This was not going to be good.

“though it is quite a shame you are marrying a man of, his nature.” benjicots knees hits the table and everyones eyes turn to look at him but he remains silent. You grip his hand tightly but keep your eyes on the lord braken. you can see aeron tug on the his fathers back trying to get him to step back and walk away but lord braken does not falter. so you lean across the table and grin at him, “if you do not get the fuck out of my sight in the next five seconds you and your family will be nothing but food for my fucking dragon so i suggest you walk away. Now.”

He laughs awkwardly and takes a couple steps back as you settle back into your seat, “good day.” he quickly runs away and you begin to laugh. You turn to benjicot pleased and see him admiring you, “what?” he just shakes his head, “i really like you.” you blow raspberries as you try to ignore pounding of your heart and the heat in your stomach, “i would hope so.”

He suddenly stands and you look at him confused until he holds his hand out to you, “would my lady like to dance with me?” You grab his hand and let him pull you up, “you sure you want to i am an awful dancer?” he leads you to the floor anyway, “im sure you’re better than you say.” you laugh, “if you say so, if your feet begin to bruise its not my fault.”

You are a fine dancer, maybe a little sloppy and out of practice but he is more than happy to dance with you. You felt so happy like it could never get better than this, just you and benjicot. The rest of the night went just as well, no more annoying lord as you spent the rest of night on the dance floor until the two of you called it a night.

you would head back to dragonstone for some final prep while benjicot head to raventree hall for the wedding. You did not want to leave him once again but he assured you these last couple days would fly by and your wedding would be here before you knew it. “once this is all over we’ll get to spend the rest of our lives together.” You would be flying back alone and the rest of your family would be traveling together in carriage to raventree hall and you would meet them there as after the wedding they would come back to king's landing.

It was odd packing up all your stuff, your room now barren and empty. all the things you’ve ever known packed up in boxes. It did not bother you much to leave kings landing it never felt like home despite never knowing anywhere else but here? in dragonstone where you grew up with your siblings? where you learned how to use a sword? you find yourself staring at the castle before forcing yourself into the carriage and letting it take you and all your stuff to raventree hall. You did not think you would cry but you do and you’re thankful nobody else is there to see it.

Its snowing. all the land that the eye could see was covered in snow. Raventree hall is packed by the time you arrive and people rush to you the second you jump out of the carriage, “please theres enough of me to go around.” oscar rolls his eyes and grabs you, “come on you need to see this.” he drags you off with kermit not too far behind and you have no clue what he could be showing you until you are standing in front of it. “wow.” “i know right, its amazing.”

The boarder between the lands stood tall, the dark oak wood towers over you, its much taller than you had thought it would be. oscar smacks you on the shoulder, “this wouldn’t be possible without you my benevolent princess.” he dips into a low bow and you cant help but laugh, “yes i am rather charitable dont you think? it is my duty to help the needy.” You hope it makes him happy, the stones gone and you can no longer even see the braken castle. “does he like it?” kermit laughs at your question, “like it? i swear he’s never looked happier.”

The three of you are soon dragged back to the castle walls and you are forced into the main hall. Benjicot is not there much to your disappointment but two very unfamiliar faces are. You quickly find out they are lord cregan stark and his wife alysanne stark aka benjicots aunt. “it is so nice to finally meet you princess. Benji writes so much about you.” ”no need to be so formal alysanne we are to be family.”

with your que alysanne, who begged you call her aly, asks you many questions about your relationship with benjicot and you ask her about the north where cregan buts in and the three of you engage in a very long conversation. The two of them are very nice people and they make you promise to come to the north sometime to spend some time there and you assure them you will.

as the night grows later you find it odd benjicot has not come out to greet you until you find out the two of you are not to see each other until you walk down the aisle. Its just one more night, one more night until you spend the rest of your lives together. You toss and turn that night despite the fact everyone told you to get as much rest as possible. you stare up at the ceiling and wonder if benjicot is in the same state, if he cant sleep because he’s thinking about you.

You certainly have no time to be exhausted when you are immediately woken up and tossed into a whirlwind of events. a piece of bread is shoved into your mouth as maids urge you into the bath, scrubbing you down head to toe. You barely have any idea whats going on until your mother walks into the room and she gasps at you. “you look beautiful.” they had been working on your hair for only the gods know how long but you had been tied tightly into your dress. your mother stands before you with tears in her eyes, “oh look at you.”

“oh don’t cry mother ill ruin my makeup.” you cannot handle seeing her cry, already overwhelmed with emotions. she wipes the tears off her face but they dont seem to stop leading your eyes to well up so badly one of the maids had to walk over and put a cloth near your eyes to catch the tears. “i am so happy for you.” “thank you mother.”

she nods and composes herself, sitting on the bed and you narrow your eyes at her serious look. “what?” she sighs and runs her hands along her skirt. “there are things that happen on your wedding night,” “oh my gods.” you turn around and the maids rush around you to continue working on your hair. “i have to tell you this, unless you already know.” you look at her through the mirror and you can tell what she means immediately by her words. “do you all think so low of me everyone assumes i have been defiled? i am as a girl my age is.” she lets out a sigh of relief but she ends up tilting your head at your wording. “what does that mean?” “it means i have touched myself.” the maids freeze at your words and so does your mother but you shrug. “what? i am a growing women.” “how do you even know about that?” “father gave me a book.” “daemon?”

The man in question walks into the room and every pair of eyes turns to look at him. “what?” “father remember that book you gave me?” daemon looks up and he looks thoroughly confused until a flash comes across his face and he brightens up with a laugh. “yes yes i remember.” rhaenyra glares at him but he just shrugs, “she was complaining to me about feeling, pains, and i simply provided her the resources to make it go away.” she glares at him and mumbles something about them talking about it later.

Your father eyes you, “face me.” you turn around again as the maids finally finish and they all stepped away from you. rhaenyra stands next to daemon the two look at you. you see the tears in rhaenyras eyes again and she wipes them away. “oh my beautiful girl.” daemon says nothing but he has an unreadable face as he stares at you. you punch him lightly in the stomach, “not even going to tell me i look pretty?” he lightly chuckles, “you already know that.” you pout at him, “it would be nice to hear.” he grabs yours shoulders and you are shocked by the sudden contact, “you are the prettiest princess in the whole realm.” you would normally think hes kidding, his word choice as comedic as always but you can tell he’s being serious. “thank you father.”

Before you know it you are being looked over once more before being taken outside for the ceremony. You had not taken into account when designing your dress that it would be snowing but luckily alys had brought her wedding cloak for you to wear. She had worn it when she got married in the cold snowy winter in winterfell and assured you it would keep you as warm as a freshly baked bread. You almost tear up again at the gesture but you try your best to compose yourself. your father stands at your side and you loop your arm through his.

“can you believe that when you crushed my toe with your heel we would end up like this?” you laugh and shove him with your elbow and he laughs with you. “see are you now thankful i insisted we leave that night.” he hums but says nothing and you look at him. He looks, sad? you turn to him and grab his hands. “i shall visit you father i promise, you will not grow older and bitter without me.” he rolls his eyes but he looks more than pleased at your words, “then i shall bother you for the rest of my life.” you groan as the two of you stand back into proper place. “oh please i take it all back i did not mean it.”

with one final laugh he ques for the doors to be open and the first thing you notice is the cold rush that hits your face. you close your eyes at the rush but make sure to maintain your pace, the covering you have on your face doing nothing to protect you. yet when you finally open your eyes you see the face of everyone you love yet your eyes cant seem to tear away from him. Standing tall infront of the weirwood tree you almost burst into tears. dawned with furs and his hair slicked back once again, his hair is covered in white snow flakes with a bright smile on his face. he wipes his eyes quickly as you begin to get closer. you turn to your father who lifts up your veil and presses a small kiss on your forehead before walking off and you stand in front of benjicot.

His eyes swell up as he looks at you and you cant help but do the same. “you are so beautiful.” he whispers to you as the maester begins to speak. the ceremony is everything you could have dreamed of and more. Your hands tied together and words spoken in sync, sealing you together forever with a perfect kiss. it was the most magical moment of your life. the crowd cheers as you look up at the ravens who stare you down and you can hear morningstar roar in the background this day could not get any better.

the feast afterwards was much better than the one in the red keep. nobody bothering, no need to pretend for a single second you were overjoyed and ben could not keep his hands off you, calling you his wife any chance he could get. though you could barely eat, too excited for the events that will occur after you call it a night and it seemed ben could not wait either as his hands massaged any skin he could get and he pressed his head into your neck to smell you.

after way too long you two finally call it a night, ignoring the whistles of your friends you sprinted down the halls with bens hand in yours as the two of you laugh. You finally reach his room and the two of you simply stare at one another with stupid smiles. “have i told you that you are gorgeous?” you take a step towards him and he does the same, “only a couple hundred times.” his lips dance over yours and his next words come out as a hushed whisper, “i feel as though i have not done it enough.”

he kisses you slowly as his hands find its way to your back and begin to untie the dress much slower than you would like. his lips trail down your neck and you throw your head back. as he continues to unlace every tie, “ben.” you hear him rumble in annoyance, “why does this thing have so many ties?” you laugh and reach behind you to help him and your dress suddenly drops to the floor, leaving you bare in front of him. He steps back and his eyes dart all over your body.

You smirk and spin around for him, “you pleased?” he jumps you like a dog you fall back onto the bed with a squeal as he grips your tits in his hands, “i am more than fucking pleased.” you moan as his hands continue to knead at your skin and his lips dance around your collarbone. “you are wearing too much.” you manage to get out as you would much rather feel his skin against yours. he laughs and pulls away from you, “as my lady commands.” you sit up on your elbows as you watch him strip down into nothing licking your lips at him. he crawls back onto of you and you run your hands down his chest, “you were hiding all this under your stupid tunics.” he pinches your slide as his hands find your core and rub the folds of your slit, “does my lady wish for me to wear no shirt?” “your lady wishes for you to stick your fingers inside her.”

he does exactly as you say and grip his shoulder, his fingers were longer than yours, thicker and more coarse, which just two fingers he can reach places you had only ever dreamed about. “please ben.” “please what?” “another one.” he adds another finger and his lips wrap around one of your nipples as his free hand places with your other one. His fingers suddenly press just right against your walls and you cry out, “right there oh fuck.” he continues to hit that point over and over as his thumb circled around your clit. the stimulation of his fingers and his mouth are too much for you to bare and your legs shake as you release all over his fingers.

when he pulls his fingers out he wraps them around his cock. you whine at his actions and wiggle your hips towards him, “please fuck me ben.” he laughs and moans as his hand quickens, “i thought you had so many wonderful ideas of what were were going to do?” “lets save it for another night, ben please.”

“anything my lady says.” with a couple more tugs of his hand he lines himself up before he pushes into you slowly. it aches. stretches you out you begin to hiss, he presses his lips against yours as he slides in fully. the two of you stay like that for awhile. he doesn’t dare move an inch without your okay. he pulls away from your lips and grips your face with his hands, “are you good?” you nod and test the waters by moving your hips a little. It did not ache as much and the sound he lets out is more than enough to please you. “fuck me.” he looks at you for assurance and you nod right before he begins to move his hips. your legs wrap around his hips and you shove your head into his neck as he pounds into you.

your hands scratch down his back and he hisses, “fuck you feel so good.” you can do nothing but mumble nonsense as you such into the skin of his neck. the room full of the sounds of skin slapping and the wet sounds of him pushing in and out of you. You bite into his neck once his hand slips between you too and plays with your clit once again. “ben,” you could not stop the bubble feeling in your stomach, the hot rushes all over your body. your skins burned against one another you could start a fire. “im gonna,” you words have him somehow moving fast and you feel him nod against you, “please do please.” you realize he has been waiting for you to release, most likely already way beyond his peak. once he feels you spur around him he also release, painting the inside of your walls.

the two of you lay still. he does not dare slip out of you. the two of you are sweaty and sticky but you have never been happier when he pulls back to look at you. “we should have been doing thats sooner.” you laugh and slap his chest, “i was trying you fool but you would not give in.” you feel him grow harder inside of you but he slips out suddenly, before you can whine about feeling empty he flips you back over and quickly slips back into you. “lets make up for lost time then.”

[scarlet-star-witch]

The moon and his sun (Part IV)

Aemond Targaryen x female reader

Summary: People would remember their story. Even decades after they were gone, Septa’s would tell young children about the one-eyed dragon prince and his sweet wife as if they were a part of a fairytale, too good to be true for the harshness real life possessed.

Aemond meets a young girl who quickly becomes his most cherished friend and changes the course of history.

Word count: 11.5 K

Warnings: Angst begins, still lots of fluff, smut (of course), Aegon still being an ass

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

~~

The court was in a frenzy.

The news of their betrothal spread through King’s Landing like wildfire. It was all anyone could talk about for days on end. Some felt vindicated, that the rumors they had been spreading for months had finally come to fruition, while others were skeptical, unsure of what such a sweet young girl saw in the surly one-eyed Prince. 

The gossip was never ending, with many speculating the couple had been consorting inappropriately in private. While many knew of Ixtal’s customs, that they weren’t as strict about their Ladies maidenhood as they were in the rest of Westeros, it didn’t stop the looks of indignation she received from certain members of the court who turned their noses up at the mere possibility she had sullied herself before her marriage.

While Aemond hated the speculation and had to be held back more than once from storming over to a group of tittering Ladies and threatening to take their tongues for daring to speak ill of his betrothed, she found it laughable. She had to remind her betrothed they weren’t exactly wrong. 

Their nights of pleasure together were only all the more exciting and mind blowing knowing they would have each other forever, that they no longer needed to fear what the future held. 

They could finally relax, they would soon be each other’s in the eyes of the Gods and no one could take that away from them. 

Their wedding was spared no expense. Lords and Ladies of great houses from across the realm traveled to the Capitol to witness the union of a Targaryen Prince and the daughter of the most prosperous house in the realm. 

Aemond paid no mind to the fanfare. All he cared about was her. 

He barely got to see her in the weeks leading up to their wedding, with her swept up with the Ladies of the court in dress fittings and as her family arrived at King’s Landing, she was rarely seen without her dear younger sister or mother at her side. 

The King demanded a three day tourney be held to celebrate, with lavish hunts and feasts raving practically each night. Aemond had never seen his father so excited and he knew it had little to do with him and all to do with his dear friend, the Lord of Ixtal, that their families would officially be uniting. 

He rolled his eyes at the whole affair. He just wanted to marry his love. He didn’t want all this attention and unnecessary flourish. 

She would laugh softly everytime he slunk into her chambers at night, her bright eyes alight with mischief, a delighted smile on her face at the annoyance on his.

“Couldn’t stay away?”

“You know I couldn’t.” He crooned, inhaling her scent as he hugged her tightly from behind. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“I am.” She answered with a blissful smile. “Are you?”

“I was ready to marry you years ago.” 

She practically swooned, leaning her head back onto his shoulder, her gaze filled with nothing but devotion. She never would have pictured this for herself. She never could have imagined she would be able to marry her best friend, that she would find a love so pure and so beautiful for herself. She didn’t think that kind of love even existed. 

“Everything seems so perfect.” She spoke softly, reveling in his embrace. 

He hummed in agreement, wishing they could go find a Maester now to perform a ceremony and bind themselves together. He didn’t want to wait another minute. He just wanted to be her husband. 

The next morning, the entire Keep was a flurry of activity. Maids scurried in and out of her chambers to prepare her, most desperate to catch a glimpse of the Island girl that would soon become a Targaryen princess. 

She sat nervously at her vanity, her hands fidgeting in her lap. 

Today was the day she would finally marry her best friend. It all seemed too good to be true, as though they had gotten away with some elaborate plan. 

“You look beautiful, my love.” Her mother spoke, her eyes already brimming my tears.

“I’m not even in my dress yet.” She laughed as her mother waved her off, wiping under her eyes as she had been doing all morning. 

To her left, Alicent stood, her demeanor much more reserved than that of her own mother and sister, who could barely contain their excitement. The Queen had yet to crack a smile since she had entered her chambers and had been silently picking out jewelry for her to wear, barely sparing a glance to her soon to be good daughter. 

A nervous lump grew in her throat. She didn’t have the best relationship with Aemond’s mother, even as children, the woman seemed disinterested in speaking more than a few words to her. She at least thought the day she wedded her son she’d try to bridge the gap between them, but it seemed she still had little interest. 

She didn’t seem all that thrilled her son was even getting married. 

The maids around her all gestured for her to stand and move towards the floor length mirror, their excited giggles growing in volume as her dress was brought forward. 

Her breath hitched. It was real. This was happening. 

Her heart was racing as the maids helped her dress, her eyes beginning to sting with the pressure to cry the happiest of tears. 

“I assume you know what is expected of you tonight.” Alicent’s voice broke through the throng of excited chattering, abruptly shattering the positive energy in the room. 

The way Alicent looked at her, so intently, almost judgmentally, made her want to shrink. She swallowed and nodded. 

She felt a hand at her shoulder, her mother’s presence steadily at her side.

“We have already discussed what her duty is tonight.” Her mother answered for her, her voice sounder stiffer than before. 

Her mother had been in King’s Landing barely a day before she figured out what her daughter and her betrothed had been up to for months. Aemond had been horrified when his future good mother blurted out their long held secret. 

She was sure he would be blushing for the rest of his life. Even after her mother laughed heartily and assured them she would never tell a soul, that she held no judgment for them, he still had trouble meeting her eye out of sheer embarrassment. 

With one look at Alicent, the Lady of Ixtal knew she would do whatever she needed to do, say whatever she needed to say, to not let the frigid woman before her try to sink her claws into her daughter. 

She would not ruin her daughter’s big day. 

 Alicent hummed, the sound neither that of satisfaction or disdain, and she remained quiet, though her critical eye never lessened. She had no compliments for the young girl who donned her beautiful, extravagant dress, she had no well wishes for the girl as her eyes brimmed with happy tears.

All Alicent could fixate on was how angry her father was at the turn of events. They had lost a monumental opportunity to gain allies due to the girl in front of her. She had bewitched her son, her uncivilized ways weakening Aemond’s sense of duty and proprietary. She never forgot how her son had stormed into her room, practically demanding a betrothal. It was so unlike him, not at all how he had been raised to act and she knew the Ixtal girl was to blame. 

All she could do was plaster on a fake smile and hope everything her father had worked on for years wasn’t all for naught. 

~~

She was a vision as she stepped out of the carriage, her pulse thrumming in her ears, her hands trembling in anticipation. 

In a matter of minutes, she was going to be married to the love of her life.

“Are you ready?” Her father asked, a soft smile on his face as he stared at his first daughter with barely contained emotion. She nodded eagerly, latching onto his arm, taking in a final deep breath before they stepped inside. 

The crowd of guests were in awe as she passed, though she could not spare a glance to any of the onlookers that seemed to swoon at the sight of her. Her gaze was locked onto the man at the front of the room, meeting his eye effortlessly.

Aemond had been watching the door and nothing else for the past few minutes, anxiously awaiting her arrival. The second she stepped inside, his breath had been stolen from him. 

He felt nervous flutters within him, as if he was once again that little boy who was in love with his best friend before he even knew what it meant to love someone. 

His vision blurred slightly as tears gathered in his eye at the sight of her, so beautiful, so perfect, his wife. 

They couldn’t take their eyes off each other as her father removed the cloak from her shoulders. Aemond felt his breath hitch at the sight of her in her dress, the shape of her body, the delicate silk outlining every curve he had spent many nights memorizing and worshiping. 

As he stood before her, placing the heavy Targaryen cloak over her shoulders, he breathed in her familiar scent, calming every one of his nerves. 

He took her hand, guiding her up the steps of the dais. No one said a word as he kept his hand in hers, the crowd was absolutely enraptured by the sight of them, the Ladies dramatically sharing looks of longing at the couple as neither one of them spared a glance to the Septon that began the service. 

They only had eyes for each other. 

No one could deny the love they shared. As they spoke the words that bound them together, their smiles dazzling, no one could deny this was a marriage of pure love. 

“I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days.”

The words left him with ease. He used to dread this moment as a child, hating the idea of being bound to a woman he didn’t know and didn’t care for for the rest of his life, purely out of duty. 

Now, he couldn’t imagine saying the words to any other person but the woman in front of him. The thought of spending the rest of his days with her, his love, brought him nothing but relief and endless happiness, a feeling he never pictured for himself. 

Since he lost his eye, since a piece of him had literally been taken from him, he had always felt slighted, but now, as the Septon announced their union, as he kissed her for the first time as his wife, he felt whole again. 

He was no longer that overlooked second son, he was no longer that scarred and feared man who longed for revenge. 

He was a husband, he was her protector, her friend, her love. He felt he finally had a meaningful purpose, one that meant so much more than the duty his family expected from him. 

The crowd cheered voraciously. It wasn’t often they got to witness a union so blessed by affection. 

Aemond kept his awed gaze on her as they made their way down the aisle, his hand clasped tightly in hers, paying no mind to anyone else around him. 

They could scarcely keep their hands from each other. 

During the feast, Aemond kept his hand on her thigh, his touch thankfully hidden by the long train covering the table. As both of their fathers gave speeches, spouting lovely rhetorics of family and peace, he couldn’t bring himself to listen to a word of it. 

His attention was focused solely on the woman beside him. His wife. 

He felt himself smiling just at the thought of it, that he could finally say the word. 

When the music started and they made their way to the floor to share their first dance, a moment Aemond had been dreading for weeks, he found he couldn’t care less that everyone’s eyes were on him. 

He realized nothing else mattered. Everything he thought would make him feel insecure wasn’t even a thought in his mind. He held her closely, his heart racing as if they were dancing for the first time, as if he was touching her for the first time.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much.” She spoke with a laugh.

“I have a good reason to smile.” He responded with a smirk as he twirled her. 

The guests couldn’t take their eyes off the couple as they danced. Most felt they were intruding on an intimate moment with how intently they gazed at each other, their love radiating from each of them effortlessly. 

They noticed how the couple sparsely ceased their touch from each other. The Lords present couldn’t help but feel slighted there would be no bedding ceremony. They were sure it would be a spectacle with how the Prince eyed his new wife with a hunger most men couldn’t conceive for their own wives. 

Aemond’s pout as his new wife accepted Helaena’s offer to dance, leaving him to sit by himself, would be fodder for most of the gossip the next morning. 

He watched her with a small smile, looking more at ease than the court had ever seen him, content at the mere sight of her delight as she twirled around with Helaena, their shared laughter ringing out louder than the music playing. 

He took a small sip from his wine, content to not drink much more, knowing he’d rather have a clear head for what the rest of the night held. He would finally take her as his wife, he would lay with her, spill his seed inside her without consequence. 

After tonight, her stomach could swell with his child and no one could say a thing. 

The thought made him desperate to drag her to their new shared chambers. He would be eager to see the end of the feast and lay with her for the rest of the night, but with how happy she was, he wouldn’t do a thing to take her away from it. 

As she twirled with Helaena, her head back, eyes closed, a picture of pure happiness, she suddenly lost her footing. She stumbled slightly, her eyes widening, but sturdy hands on her waist stopped her from falling to the floor. 

“Mind if I cut in?” 

She stiffened at the voice in her ear, turning to see Aegon’s smarmy smile. She wanted nothing more than to wrench his hands off her, but she couldn’t make a scene at her own wedding. If she displayed any ounce of discomfort by his hands, she was sure Aemond would forever be tainted as the man who killed his own brother on his wedding night.

“Aegon…” Helaena called out wearily, not wanting her dear friend to be subjected to her brother’s cruel games, though she didn’t have power in her own corner to derail him.

“It’s alright Helaena.” She assured her, giving her a weak smile to the Princess who eyed her worriedly for a moment before retreating back to the head table. 

She cleared her throat and stood stiffly, holding back a grimace as Aegon’s hand slipped around her waist, his other taking hers, his grip tight and domineering, as if he wanted to prove to her how much stronger he was than her.

“You were lucky my grandsire allowed this to happen so quickly.” He spoke blatantly as they began to dance. “I was hoping to expose your big secret to the court.”

She felt her insides twist. Knowing Aegon was aware of her and Aemond’s secret, of their sneaking around, had her wanting to retreat where no one would find her. Even now they were married, Aegon still had the power to destroy her reputation.

She just hoped he ruined his own before he had the chance to tear her down. 

“You think they would listen to the words of a drunken idiot?” 

His smile turned wicked, his disdain for her clear, though there was no denying the lust in his gaze as he looked at her. He didn’t have to like her to fuck her. 

“More than they would listen to a whore who spreads her legs for anyone.”

“You mean my husband?” She retaliated, her patience for him wearing thin. 

Aegon chuckled, though his bitterness was clear. He leaned in close, his nose almost brushing against hers. She jerked back, sending him a vicious scowl, all she could allow herself under the prying eyes that surrounded her. 

“You could have been mine.” He crooned, the wine on his breath making her feel nauseous. “Gods only know why you decided to settle for my twat of a brother. As if he could please you better than I could, as if he could fuck you the way I could. I bet you were the first woman he ever bedded.”

His words made her feel sick to her stomach as she staunchly looked past his shoulder, refusing to look him in the eye. She didn’t want him to know how much he could get under her skin. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“I would rather let the entire brothel of whores you sully yourself with flay every layer of my skin off slowly until I beg for death than ever crawl into bed with you.”

Aegon only smirked joyously.

“The mouth on you.” He admired with a shake of his head. “Such a shame it’s wasted on my brother.”

“Aegon.”

The stern voice of his brother made his eyes widen for a fraction of a second and he quickly schooled his expression, quickly removing his hands from his new good sister, plastering on a smirk so his brother wouldn’t see how successfully he could intimidate him.

She turned, meeting the questioning gaze of her husband. She nodded subtly, silently assuring him she was ok. 

He’d been chatting with her brother but the moment he spotted her in Aegon’s arms, he had abruptly given his well wishes to his new family and was quickly making his way to rescue her from his lecherous brother’s grip.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded eagerly, linking her arm through his, more than eager to say goodbye to the feast and make her way to bed with her new husband. 

“What, no bedding ceremony?” Aegon called out, forcing Aemond to send him a wicked glare. 

“Not if you wish to live, brother.” He spat and turned on his heel, desperate to get his wife far away from his depravity. 

He was more than thankful his good father had appealed to his father about doing away with the bedding ceremony. The Lord of Ixtal cared about his daughter too much to put her through that embarrassment. 

“Did he do anything?” He asked under his breath as they walked away, ignoring the cheers of congratulations from the guests he cared little for.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched in anger, his instincts telling him to turn back and threaten his brother within an inch of his life for daring to speak to his wife in ways that were anything but cordial. 

The moment they stepped out of the grand hall, allowing them a brief moment of privacy in the empty hallway, she pulled her arm from his and took his hands in her own, turning to face him, a soft smile on her face.

“Don’t let him ruin our night. This isn’t about him or anyone else. It’s about us.” 

He let out a long breath and nodded, though it wasn’t an easy feat to let go of the anger that burned hotly at the mere mention of his debauched brother’s attention on his love. 

“Besides, I’m quite eager to get to bed and if my husband chooses to delay any longer, I might begin to rethink this union.” She teased, smiling victoriously as his eye darkened with desire.

Her laughter echoed in the halls as Aemond practically dragged her to their chambers, his quick pace signaling he was equally as eager as she was to lose themselves in bliss.

~~

She lay draped across his bare chest, the sheets pooled at their hips. She hummed in contentment, her limbs aching, her eyes heavy with exhaustion as Aemond gently ran his fingers up and down the length of her arm. 

Any other night, his touch would lull her into much needed sleep, but the excitement that continued to course through her veins stubbornly kept her eyes open. 

She turned her head, looking up at her husband.

Gods, she would never get over saying that.

He looked down, their shared smiles growing as their gazes met. 

Her hand that was placed on his strong chest cheekily began to move lower, making him laugh.

“You can’t possibly be needing more.” He spoke tiredly. They had already gone multiple rounds, he had already pulled a countless number of orgasms from her. 

“I thought I married a dragon.” She teased. “Are you saying you no longer have the stamina to please your wife?” 

Aemond’s gaze darkened, his exhaustion worn out by his desire she could so effortlessly spark. 

“You dare to doubt me, wife?” He crooned, knowing how deeply the word affected her, watching with satisfaction as she practically preened against him, a wickedly delightful thrill coursing through her at the mention of their newly married status. 

She laughed and pushed at his chest, forcing him to lay back onto the pillows below him. He eagerly expected her to crawl atop him and ride him in the deliriously, mind bending way she could, but he was left in a pleasured surprise as she began to press heated kisses across his abdomen, moving lower torturously slowly.

He let out a heavy breath, his body thrumming with anticipation. He hissed as she took him in her mouth, his head falling back, already feeling weak under her touch, sensitive from his previous leg-shaking peaks. 

Her wicked tongue knew exactly what to do to render him a useless fool who couldn’t remember his own name. His hand tangled in her hair that was already a mess from their previous passionate rounds. 

His breath left him in heavy pants as she worked him with her mouth at a quick pace. He knew her well, he knew the determined glint in her eye signaled trouble for him. She went further and further and took him deep in her mouth until the tip of him hit the back of her throat. 

He whined, writhing against the bed, his hand that wasn’t pulling at her hair pathetically fisting the sheets below him in an effort to keep himself tethered to some semblance of control that she was steadily shattering. 

“You are wicked.” He moaned, the delight in his voice causing her lips to curl around him in the guise of a victorious smile. 

His lips were parted with a litany of moans and whines as he watched her, eagerly taking in the sight of her, his cock in her mouth, her eyes alight with desire, greedily taking his pleasure. She sped up the pace of her mouth, delighted at the sound of his loud groan echoing throughout the room. 

His toes began to curl, his weak body, already spent from hours of ecstasy, leaving him powerless under her. 

He called out her name frantically, sounding more debauched than he ever would have imagined he could have. 

“Oh fuck, just like that, darling, don’t stop.” 

She doubled her efforts, eager to see him fall apart. She loved to hear his noises of pleasure, to see him so unrestrained as he let himself fall to the haze of bliss. His back arched, both of his hands grabbing fistfuls of her hair, as if to ensure she wouldn’t leave him wanting, that she stayed worshiping him as she was, as only she could.

“Love,” He warned, feeling his end nearing, feeling the familiar fire beginning to stir within him, one that came before a powerful release. With only a few more flicks of her tongue, he felt himself shatter. 

He cried out, a loud, desperate sound most wouldn’t believe to have come from the surly Prince, as he came. His vision was stolen from him as he had squeezed his eye shut in the moment of climax, though he wouldn’t have denied that she had just extricated his soul from his body, leaving him to lose what was left of his sight. He didn’t doubt she had the ability. 

His chest heaved, his jaw slack, small whines leaving him as she was slow to part from him, her mouth lazily working his spent cock that twitched in overstimulation at her touch. 

He reached for her blindly, his limbs weak as though he had just fought a grueling battle. She grabbed his hand, laughing softly at the sight of him thoroughly exhausted. 

She allowed him to pull her over him, his hands desperate to touch her, to feel her close to him, to prolong the pleasure running through him. 

He kissed her hand, his lips moving up the length of her arm until he reached her neck, smiling at the sound of the contented noise that left her lips as he found the spot that always made her giggle with ticklish delight. 

“One of these days you are going to stop my heart.” He told her, still working to catch breath. 

“I would never do such a thing.” 

He smiled and kissed her firmly, his mind a haze of delirium. He briefly wondered if he was dreaming, for this seemed too perfect to be his life. He kissed her again, as if to confirm that this was real, that the woman that just brought him pleasure like no other was truly before him, that he was lucky enough to now call her his wife. 

“Give me five minutes and I will return the favor.”

~~

Their marriage was nothing short of blissful. Now there was no longer a need to hide, the public was shocked by how affectionate the dragon Prince acted towards his wife. One was seldom seen without the other. 

Maids constantly gossiped about the salacious noises heard from their shared chambers practically all hours of the day. With the noises the new Princess made nightly they couldn’t help but begin to lust over the elusive Prince, or at least wish he could give some tips to their own lovers. They almost fought over who got to service the Prince and his new wife to catch a glimpse of the lovesick expression on the feared one-eyed dragon’s face. 

It had to be seen to be believed. 

They knew it wouldn’t be long until the announcement of a new Targaryen babe was made. 

Aemond hated the attention. He wished he could take his wife across the sea and indulge in their newly wedded bliss in private. 

He had just sneered at yet another passing Lady who practically fawned at the sight of the two of them, when she laughed, tucking her arm tighter in his. 

They had simply been walking in the gardens together and still couldn’t escape the gossiping Ladies of the court who could talk of nothing else but their marriage and ponder about the feared one-eyed Prince’s new found prowess among the Ladies. 

“Do they have nothing better to do?” Aemond muttered in annoyance.

“Our novelty will wear off soon.” She assured him. “They are just not quite used to seeing you so… soft.”

“I am not soft.”

She laughed, the sound causing him to look over at his wife incredulously. The disbelieving look on his face only had her suppressing more laughter, 

“Tell me, dear husband, if I told you my legs were hurting and I couldn’t possibly make it to that bench over there, would you not carry me?”

Aemond regarded her for a moment, an almost imperceptible pout growing on his lips as he contemplated the situation. He knew there was no way he wouldn’t indulge her in anything she asked for. 

“That does not make me soft.” He answered defensively, though he knew he was a lost cause. 

She giggled at the obvious answer as they continued to walk. Aemond looked over at her, eyeing her carefully for a few moments, his brows furrowing.

“Your legs are not hurting are they?” 

Her laughter rang out in the gardens as she leaned in closer to his side. Aemond felt his own smile tugging at his lips and he placed a kiss to the top of her head.

He knew he would endure all of the petty gossip that came his way. He would endure a lot worse just to hear that laugh again. 

He almost couldn’t believe the bliss he was living in. He loved her more than he thought it was possible to love someone. Now that they no longer had to hide their true feelings for each other, now that they were married and could freely show affection without any repercussions, he found himself living in a dreamlike state. 

It felt too good to be true. 

Every day was spent showing the rest of the court just how much she meant to him, how he was hers and she was his and no one else mattered, while late nights were spent tangled in bed, their limbs weak with pleasure, a time just for them and no one else. 

As she got up to pour them another cup of wine they had been drinking before he had dragged her to their bed, she looked over her shoulder at her husband who was looking up at the ceiling tiredly, a content smile on his face.

“Have I finally worn you out?” She teased as she handed him his cup. 

He chuckled softly and took the cup, drinking down much needed swallows of the sweet wine. She crawled back into bed beside him, settling herself in his open arms once again. She pressed teasing kisses across his chest, feeling the hum of soft moans that escaped him. 

He cupped her face and kissed her firmly, the gesture lacking much heat as they were both thoroughly spent from the haze of pleasure they’d been tangled in for hours. 

He pulled away, letting his forehead rest against hers as he took her in, simply admiring his wife with an awe that was certainly not unfamiliar to either of them. 

She noticed a flicker of something she didn’t recognize flash across his face, his eye softening almost imperceptibly. 

“What’s on your mind, Love?” She asked, nuzzling in closer to him as she sensed his sudden anxious energy. 

He stayed quiet for a moment longer, carefully contemplating his next words and if he should divulge the sudden thought in his head to her. 

“What if…” He started softly, his teeth worrying his lip as he feared her reaction. “What if you didn’t drink any moon tea tomorrow?”

Her expression smoothed out in surprise at his request. She couldn’t deny that it was something she had thought of since their wedding, but she had never spoken of her fantasies of silver haired children with her husband. She knew he had complicated feelings for his own family, especially his father, and she never wanted to bring it up in fear of pushing him to something he feared.  

“Is that something you want?” 

“I want everything with you.” He told her sincerely. 

The beaming smile that grew on her lips soothed every ounce of anxiety he had and he breathed out deeply, leaning forward to kiss her once more. 

“You’re going to be a wonderful father.” 

Her whispered words made his insides twist and flutter in ways that left him holding back the flood of emotions he hadn’t expected, her words soothing the deep rooted anxiety he felt at the prospect of starting a family, no matter how badly he wanted it. He had no way to tell her how grateful he was for her, there were no words conceivable to tell her the depth of his love for her. 

So he settled for kissing her, silently thanking the Gods above for bringing him to the woman in his arms. 

~~

Aemond stepped into their shared chambers the same time he always did, his perfect hair slightly disheveled from his time spent training. He stopped in his tracks, the warmth in his expression gone in an instant as he eyed the Maester sitting before her with growing apprehension.

“What’s wrong?” 

She laughed at his blatant worry as he approached her quickly, reaching for her hand. 

“Everything’s fine, Darling.” 

“What happened?” He turned to ask the Maester, all care gone from his voice, leaving nothing but strict power as he demanded an answer. 

“The Princess wasn’t feeling well this morn-”

“Are you alright? Why didn’t you tell me?” He interrupted, turning his attention back to her, his concerned tone back in full force, all traces of the demanding Prince gone as he kneeled before her, his expression wracked with worry. 

She smiled again in amusement and looked to the Maester. 

“Would you mind giving us a moment?” 

The old man nodded respectfully, giving her a warm smile and hastily leaving the room, most likely relieved to gain some distance from the dragon Prince with the feared temper. 

She intertwined her fingers with Aemond’s, taking in a deep breath as she prepared herself to bring him the life changing news. 

“I have been feeling a little off the last few days and I called the Maester to confirm my suspicion.” She explained vaguely, her mischievous smirk remaining as she watched Aemond’s brow furrow deeper in concern. 

“And?”

Deciding to finally let her husband off the hook and spare him his heart that was no doubt racing in anticipation, his dramatic mind probably conjuring horrible conclusions, she guided his hand forward, letting his palm rest flatly on her stomach. 

She watched him carefully, noting the exact moment he realized what she was telling him. His lips parted and his gaze moved from his hand to her face abruptly, his eye shrouded in disbelief, looking at her pleadingly, as if needing confirmation that this was real. 

She let out a laugh and nodded, tears brimming in her eyes at the pure love she saw in Aemond’s. He let out a breathless laugh, the sound of delight one she had never remembered ever hearing from him before. He grabbed her hands, swiftly bringing her to her feet and barely a second later, he was hugging her tightly, his hands gripping onto her desperately.

Her delighted laughter filled the room as he twirled her around, the moment filled with nothing but elation. 

“Thank you.” He whispered from where his head rested in the crook of her neck. 

She smiled, her own emotions rising at the sound of him so touched, so loved. 

He pulled out of the embrace, his gaze immediately falling to her stomach that had yet to show any evidence of the life that grew there. He pictured it swelling, the bump that would grow with their child, the life they had created together and he was sure his heart was moment away from bursting out of sheer love. 

“I can’t believe it.” He breathed out in awe. It had only been about a month since they had made the decision to forgo moontea, he had no idea it would happen for them this quickly. 

“With how often you take me to bed, surely this isn’t a surprise.” 

He looked almost proud at her jest and she shook her head, pulling him in for another embrace that he gladly returned, his arms holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world and if anyone were to ask, Aemond would certainly agree. 

He kissed the top of her head and pulled back, taking her face in his hands as he looked down at her reverently.

“You have given me more than I ever could have imagined I would have.” He told her honestly. “You’ve made me the happiest man to ever live.” 

He kissed her with all the love he could, hoping it would be enough to convey every ounce of adoration he held for her. 

However, their peace didn’t last long. 

Rhaenyra and her sons would soon be arriving at King’s Landing to counter Vaemond Velaryon’s petition for the Driftmark throne.

The moment Aemond heard the news, he became reserved, building that familiar brooding wall around him, portraying that of the feared one-eyed prince the court loved to gossip about. 

The night before they were due to arrive, he had resided in their chambers, wishing to avoid the prying eyes of the court and their whispers about his bastard nephews and the likelihood of there being another duel between them that would result in bloodshed.

He heard the door of their shared chambers open and close, but his gaze remained on the flickering flames in the hearth in front of him. 

“There you are.” Her sweet voice called out, his wife taking her place at his side. “I’ve barely seen you all day.”

“I’ve been here.” He responded softly, his voice lacking its usual warmth that was always present with her. 

She watched him carefully, knowing exactly what was eating away at him, but hesitant to mention it, unsure of how he would react. The mere mention of his nephews was enough to incite his rage. 

“Do you wish to talk about it?” She asked softly.

“No.”

His voice was curt, betraying just how tormented he felt. A flare of pain lashed his scar, the sapphire in place of his eye seemingly burning, as if the thought of that Strong bastard’s imminent arrival alone could cut him like the dagger he wielded that night. 

A tense silence lingered between them, one they both hated. 

With a pained hiss, he tore his eye path off, tossing it to the side carelessly, his sharp features contorted in pain. He leaned his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands as the sapphire in his eye bloomed with pain. 

It wasn’t often the wound still caused him aggravation, but in the moments it did, he always felt like he was that young, helpless boy again. His hands shook slightly as the pain flared so deeply it was all he could do to breathe through it. 

Within seconds he felt gentle hands on his, carefully prying them from his face. He looked up to his wife sitting before him, the concern on her face stirring his emotions he tried desperately to hold back. 

He noticed the vial of ointment in her hands, the one the Maesters gave to him to use whenever his wound became unbearable. He was tense as she cradled his cheek, her thumb caressing the edge of his scar, her eyes taking in the angry looking wound. She had seen him do this for himself a few times but he had never let her do it before. 

She looked at him thoughtfully, posing a silent question to which he nodded slightly, still hesitant to let her touch what was his greatest shame, but the pain was becoming unbearable, he was left out of options. 

She dipped her finger into the ointment and carefully applied it to his eye, her own heart racing as she felt her husband was baring a piece of himself he had been adamant on hiding for so long. 

As her fingers brushed as gently as possible across his wounded eye, the cooling ointment bringing him relief immediately, he finally started to let himself relax, releasing a long breath. 

She reached out with her other hand, laying it over his own that was still clenched into a fist, beginning to trace meaningless shapes over his knuckles. Her touch soothed something in him he didn’t even know could be soothed, the simple gesture enough for him to feel comforted in a way only she could give him. He sighed loudly as he sank into his seat, the rigidity leaving him limb by limb. 

Smiling softly at the sight of him so much calmer than before, she moved to sit next to him once she was finished. Aemond was quick to close the distance between them, moving in closer to her side, taking her hand in his, eager for her touch. 

“Thank you.” He whispered, the look of reverence he sent her stirring her own emotions and she suddenly found herself on the verge of tears. She would never understand what he went through as a child, she would never understand what he felt for his nephews, but she was adamant she would be there for him in the moments he struggled. 

“You never need to thank me for this.” She assured him. 

Another heavy breath escaped him, as if his ire was leaving him with each exhale. His resentment was no match for the love his wife gave him. It would succumb to her each and every time. 

His hand roamed gently over her body, eventually finding its place on her stomach, where it stayed, pulling a small laugh from her.

“You do realize there’s no bump yet.”

Aemond just shrugged, the look of contentment on his face a far cry from the derision that had steadily remained all day. 

“It doesn’t matter. He’s still in there.”

“He?”

He seemed bashful as he looked up at his wife, a slight blush on his cheeks, as if embarrassed to admit the many nights he spent thinking about their child, imagining their son as the perfect mix of them both, of how much he already loved their child. 

“It’s just a feeling.” 

She began to picture it, Aemond cradling their son, his eyes the same vibrant blue of his father’s, his smile wide, his cheeks chubby, every bit of him absolutely perfect. 

Her own smile grew, her vision growing blurry as tears gathered in her eyes at the thought, her hormones that were now on a hair trigger since her pregnancy, coming to a head. 

“Hey,” Aemond called out in concern, reaching up to caress her cheek and she shook her head, letting out a small laugh.

“They’re happy tears.” 

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her softly. It was easy to forget the turmoil he felt, that he was soon to face the object of his anger, when he was next to his wife, their child growing within her. 

That night, he was ravenous. He had taken her with a fervor he hadn’t felt in weeks. He had been insatiable when he knew of her pregnancy, but he seemed to treat her like glass, as if she were now delicate because of the precious life that grew within her. 

His touches had always been gentle, but urgent, hungry yet loving. 

Tonight, he was starved. He fucked her as if they were newlyweds again, every touch portraying just how desperate he felt for her. 

“Aemond!” She cried out, her hands tangled in his hair, pulling hard as he brought her to yet another blissful orgasm.

He growled, burying his face in the crook of her neck, the enticing nip at her neck making her moan. His steady pace never faltered, his powerful hips crashing against hers as he chased his own end. 

Her cries turned to laughs, delirious with pleasure. 

“I love you.” She breathed out and screamed as his pace became quicker, his thrusts becoming harsher, more frantic as he quickly approached his high. 

“Say it again.” He growled, now hovering over her as he gazed down at the beauty beneath him, his eye and the striking sapphire a sight that left her shivering under his tight grip.

“I love you.” She repeated, hoping he believed every word, hoping he knew just how much she cherished him, how much he meant to her. “You are the only man I’ve ever loved, the only man I’ll ever love for the rest of my life.”

His jaw clenched, his eye squeezing shut as the sight of her below him, writhing in pleasure, was just too much to handle. He was powerless against her. 

His thrusts became relentless, the bed shaking beneath them with every one of his brutal strokes. 

He breathed harshly, feeling as though flames were alight in his veins. 

“Again.” He commanded roughly. 

She shivered at the commanding edge of his voice, her toes curling as she felt sparks ignite within her. 

“I love you, more than anything.” 

Her breathless words were his undoing. He shouted a curse and groaned loudly, his arms feeling weak as he practically fell over her, never stopping his movements, his cock thrusting into her almost violently as he came, his body shaking against hers. 

She gasped at the feeling of him spilling inside her, her arms wrapping tighter around him, her head thrown back as she cried out, his name falling from her lips in a chant, as if he were a deity she prayed to for salvation. 

“I love you.” She whispered breathlessly and began to laugh tiredly as he planted kisses over the expanse of her neck, making his way upwards until he met her lips, kissing her soundly, as if she were the very air he breathed. 

“I love you.” He panted in a blissful daze. 

By the next morning, every good feeling Aemond had coveted the night before had dissipated like smoke in the wind. 

He woke early and spared his sleeping wife a kiss to the forehead before heading to the training yard where he spent the rest of the morning, endlessly sparring with Ser Criston and any other worthy opponent available when the knight needed a break from his endless plights. 

Those that dared to step up were left bloody and bruised in a matter of minutes. 

Aemond was wound tightly, his entire being ready to snap as he laid his eye on his nephews for the first time in years. The fury that had been buried deeply within him for years bubbled to the surface with one look at the brown haired bastards. 

The sapphire in place of his eye burned as his glare remained steady on them. 

He preened inwardly as they cowered under his eye. To know they couldn’t meet his gaze brought him more satisfaction than he had expected. He grabbed his sword and gestured to Ser Criston to get into position.

He fought with determination as if he were in actual battle, as if his life was truly threatened and every movement dictated his survival. With every powerful strike of his sword against Criston’s shield, he felt vindicated, as though the years of shame that had come from the bullying he endured from his own brother and nephews stripped off layer by layer with each powerful swing of his weapon. 

His eye drifted to his nephews, a sickly satisfied smirk growing at the sight of their intimidation. 

They held no power over him now. He had made sure of it. 

“Husband.” 

Her voice cut through the haze of victory he had been lavishing in. He turned on his heel, confusion overtaking him as he saw his wife standing in the training yard. He dropped his sword and rushed over to her side. 

“What are you doing down here? Is everything alright?”

She didn’t often make her way down into the training yards and with her current state, he couldn’t help but fret over her every minute of the day he was with her.

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t killing yourself before the petition.”

He sighed heavily. He didn’t know if he loved or hated how easily his wife could read him. She took his hand and he let her guide him out of the yard. 

“You’ve been here for hours, I think you’ve earned yourself a break.” 

He opened his mouth to retort, but she stopped him with a knowing look. 

“Based on the looks on your nephews face’s I think you’ve proven everything you needed to prove.”

The smirk that grew on his lips should have worried her, but she couldn’t find it in herself to feel any concern for the ire he felt for his nephews. It was more than justified, she just hoped it would be enough, that their visit to the Keep wouldn’t result in any more bloodshed. 

Aemond looked back into the training yard, as if hesitant to leave the glory he’d managed to carve out for himself, for the retribution he felt he had finally earned, no matter how slight it was, but her hand in his forced him back to her in an instant. 

“Don’t let them get to you. They hold no power over you.” She told him softly and he let out a long breath, allowing the hatred that had been clouding him all day roll over him like dark thunder clouds making way for the shining sun to warm up the earth after a vicious storm. 

His hand remained steadily in hers, as if needing her like a lifeline in tumultuous waves. She was the only thing that kept him tethered to himself, that kept him from spiraling into his anger. 

She could see how tense he was and if it were any other day, if they didn’t have royal duties to attend to, she would’ve been content to keep him in their chambers and let him use her to both of their delights until he was spent, too exhausted to feel any anger at all. 

She didn’t like to see him in this state. It was so unlike the sweet boy that had been by her side for years. She didn’t like what her nephews had created in him the night he claimed Vhagar. 

~~

The petition unfolded as she expected. While King Viserys’ presence had been a surprise, Vaemond’s demise certainly wasn’t, especially after the accusations he had spouted to Princess Rhaenyra and her sons. 

Aemond had tugged on her arm, instinctively pulling her behind him as Daemon brought his sword down upon the man. 

He had shielded her from the violent display, something she had been grateful for. With the pregnancy hormones swirling within her, she most often felt nauseous around anything that wasn’t plain bread. The sight of Vaemond’s severed head would’ve been enough to put her off eating for the rest of her life. 

As the court reacted in a frenzy to the brutal display, Aemond had placed his hand on her stomach, his eye looking her over carefully, ready to rush her out of the room at the slightest hint of nausea. 

She gripped his hand and nodded to his silent question, assuring him she was ok, that she wasn’t about to spill her guts in front of everyone, though the darkened look in his eye remained. Who it was targeted at, she wasn’t quite sure. 

Neither one of them had been looking forward to the family dinner Viserys was adamant on hosting. It was as if he was completely oblivious to the tension in the family as he forced them in proximity to each other. 

Aemond had barely spoken a word as they readied themselves for dinner. He was tense, his face drawn tightly, as if he expected the worst to unfold, as if he were facing enemies on a battlefield and not a simple dinner with his family. 

“We don’t have to attend.” She told him, wishing she could protect him from the torment he felt in the face of his nephews. 

He didn’t spare a look to her, every inch of him was shrouded in anger, barely contained fury that he couldn’t shake. He didn’t seem like the man she married at that moment. 

“Why wouldn’t I attend?” He asked, as if his torment wasn’t visible, as if she wasn’t aware of the burning anger he couldn’t shake, the vitriol he experienced as a child coming back to the forefront of his mind, reminding him of the slights that he had been faced with. 

“Aemond,” She started softly. “No one expects you to forgive them.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head, his expression filled with bitter irritation. 

“No one expects me to hold any anger at all.” 

She frowned deeply and approached him slowly, eyeing him carefully. She had never felt so out of depth when it came to her husband but she would be damned if she left him to suffer alone.

“We don’t have to go.”

He clenched his jaw, his eye holding a faraway look, signaling he was deep in thought. 

She reached out, cupping his face in his hands, startling him out of his reverie that was filled with nothing but hatred. 

“You just tell me and we’ll leave. I’ll make an excuse and we can go without any question.”

Her words, her ability to show him she was staunchly in his corner, a feeling no one else had ever assured him of, disarmed him completely. There was one thing his nephews would never take from him, the love he felt from his wife stood the test of time, standing strongly against any other force that dared to weaken him. His eye softened, his hand reaching out to grasp her arm, his fingers gently caressing her skin. 

“What have I done to deserve you?” He whispered, his voice cloaked with reverence, as if surprised by the love she held for him. 

She frowned, hating when he spoke as if he didn’t deserve the love she showed him, as if it was some kind of gift he wasn’t worthy of coveting. 

“You read to me my second day here.” She answered simply, reminding him of the beginning of it all, when they were nothing more than two wonderstruck children. 

He exhaled deeply, desperately wanting to hold onto that feeling that always surrounded him when he thought of their childhood together, like warmth embracing him soundly. 

It was a feeling he kept close to him as they walked to the dining hall, though he knew it was futile. The feeling would be gone, shielded in the depths of him in the face of his family.

As they stepped into the hall, Aemond left her side to grab her a drink from the servers, allowing her to step towards Rhaena and Baela, greeting them politely. Rhaena was quick to give her a smile, while Baela only had distrustful eyes to throw in her direction. 

Her name was called and she turned to see Rhaenyra approaching her with a warm smile. 

She smiled and embraced the Princess slightly awkwardly. She had fond memories of the woman growing up, especially in times when she was desperately missing her own mother, but it had been years since she had seen her and knowing her actions on the night Aemond’s eye had been taken had irrevocably changed her view of the woman since.

“It’s good to see you again, Dear.” Rhaenyra smiled warmly at her. “Where is your father, I was hoping to say hello.”

“He’s at Ixtal. He was missing my mother and decided to take a short visit.” 

“You didn’t join him?”

She felt her cheeks heat at the question and she couldn’t help but smile. 

“I would, but I wasn’t exactly in a good state to travel.” She explained and placed her hand on her stomach exaggeratedly. 

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened and she beamed a smile, laughing happily. 

“That is wonderful news.” The Princess congratulated. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother.” 

A hand on the small of her back made her look up to see her husband now at her side, his steely eye locked onto his half-sister whose smile faltered at his sudden presence. She cleared her throat, her demeanor now tense as she nodded politely in greeting.

Rhaenyra left their side quickly, leaving her to wonder just how deeply one family could fracture. She couldn’t imagine ever greeting her brothers in that manner. She couldn’t imagine hating the ones she shared blood with. 

Letting out a long breath, knowing she was in for an eventful night, she turned to Aemond, placing her hand on his arm that was stiff, as if he wouldn't allow himself to relax or even take a breath in their presence. 

They all took their seats, the tension in the room strangling as King Viserys was carried in. 

She held back a grimace at the sight of the decrepit King. He was a far cry from the man she had met all those years ago, far from the man who was a dear friend to her father. 

The awkward aura in the room remained steadfast, with most avoiding eye contact with each other. Even Viserys’ heartened speech about family and the uniting of the house of the dragon did little to mend the obvious rift in the family.

Until Rhaenyra stood. She was shocked to hear her speak such lovely words about the Queen and for the Queen to return the sentiment. 

Their apparent truce for the time being broke the tension, though her husband at her side remained tense, his lone eye unflinchingly cold as he regarded his distant family. 

Her eyes kept circling back to him, as if waiting for the moment he would strike. She wondered when the wood of the chair under his white-knuckled grip would splinter. She wondered when the night would take an irredeemable turn.

She didn’t even get to enjoy Helaena’s thinly veiled jab towards Aegon in her toast, she was too worried about her husband to pay attention to the others around her. 

When the music began, signaling the end of the toasts, she leaned back in her seat, giving her husband a small encouraging smile, anticipating that they had made it through the worst the night had to offer. 

Aemond remained stiff as stone, his posture straight and rigid. She noticed his eye darken further, his gaze locked past her and she turned, her brows furrowing slightly as Jacaerys stepped towards her, a hopeful smile on his face.

“Would you care to dance, Princess?” He asked, offering her his hand. 

She stared at his hand for a long second, contemplating her choices. With the entirety of the table watching the exchange, she knew she had little choice but to accept his offer. 

She spared a brief glance to her husband beside her and the fury that blazed in his lone eye would have melted the wall in the great north. With a heavy breath, she gingerly took Jace’s hand and stood from her seat, allowing him to guide her away from the table.

Her husband’s gaze practically burned at her back. 

Aemond watched with barely contained rage as the bastard danced with his wife. His teeth grinded together so harshly it was a wonder they didn’t crack. He briefly contemplated what the repercussions would be if he murdered the Strong bastard where he stood. 

The fire within him was simmering, ready to unleash as he watched another man touch his wife. The smile on the bastard’s face left Aemond wondering whether he should slit his throat, dismember him, or let Vhagar turn him to ash. 

None of the choices seemed punishment enough. 

As Jace twirled her, her eyes briefly met Aemond’s and her stomach twisted at his expression. She knew tonight wouldn’t end peacefully. 

She flinched slightly as Jace quickly spun her back into his arms, causing her to almost crash into his chest, forcing her much closer to him than she felt was necessary. She leaned back to gain some distance, hoping it wasn’t noticeable, hoping her husband hadn’t been able to tell she had been uncomfortable for a mere second.

Jace would be dead and buried before the sun rose if that were the case. 

“I have to admit, I was quite shocked when I heard the news of your wedding.” Jace suddenly spoke, keeping his voice low so only she would hear. 

“What was so shocking?”

“I didn’t expect you to end up with someone like him.”

“Someone like him? You mean my oldest friend?” She questioned, disdain creeping through her tone, her defenses raised, which didn’t allow her the wherewithal to speak in a friendly manner. 

Jace sighed, as if wanting to dispute the simple fact that she and Aemond had been close for years before marriage was even a thought in either of their heads. 

“You two are very different.” He said with a slight shrug. “I pictured you with someone more… warm, romantic even.” 

“I assure you, my prince, my husband is plenty romantic. You do not need to worry yourself about my marriage.” She smiled stiffly. 

Jace, seeming to sense her attitude, remained silent for the remainder of the dance. As the song ended, she politely curtsied and was walking back to the table before he could rise from his bow. 

The tension didn’t dissipate as she took her seat at her husband’s side once more. If anything, the fury radiating from the man beside her only set her more on edge. Aemond leaned into her, making her shoulders tense both in apprehension and desire. 

“If he touches you again, I will break every bone in his body.” Aemond hissed in her ear, smirking delightedly at the shiver she repressed. 

She looked up at him, his fury now morphed into an insatiable hunger only she could tame. She knew she would be in for a long night. 

She was just thankful he seemed to be feeling anything other than murderous rage. 

But it did not last long. 

She had been speaking quietly to Helaena, Aemond’s hand in hers, his thumb caressing over her knuckles a steady comfort when he suddenly pulled away. 

She barely had time to look over at her husband before he was bolting out of his chair. His fist that slammed on the table made her flinch in surprise, her wide eyes looking up at him in confusion.

“Final tribute.” 

Her heart raced wildly in her chest, her gaze wandering around the table, wondering what could have possibly stoked his fury. It wasn’t until she saw the sheepish guilt that permeated with fear on Lucerys’ expression that she began to understand. 

“To the health of my nephews. Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… strong.”

She felt her breath hitch in her throat, her wide eyed gaze meeting Alicent’s for a brief moment, his mother looking equally as petrified for what was to unfold. 

“Let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.”

She sent her husband a pleading look, but it was lost on him, his gaze, full of hatred, cemented on his nephews. 

“I dare you to say that again.”

“Why? Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?”

She gasped, her hand covering her mouth as Jace landed a punch to Aemond’s cheek. The room erupted in chaos. She could watch with disappointment as her husband pushed his nephew to the ground, as Aegon joined in and shoved Lucerys against the table. 

Helaena stood from her seat and rushed towards her, her face shrouded in fear. She sighed and stood from her seat, wrapping her arm around her friend who seemed disturbed by the rift tearing in her family before her. 

“It’s alright.” She assured her. 

Across the room, Rhaenyra’s eyes bored into hers, pleading, as if she had any control over her husband’s ire. She sent her an apologetic look and bowed her head, wishing Aemond had taken up her offer to avoid the dinner altogether. 

The room came to a standstill, the fighting men separated, a room divided by two factions. 

Aemond glared at his uncle who looked at him as if disappointed, as if he were out of line to enact revenge for the slight against him. 

He grit his teeth and in a quick motion, swallowed the wine left in his cup before turning back to the table. He avoided looking at his wife as he grabbed her hand, pulling her along with him as he stormed out of the room.

Her feet moved quickly to keep up with his quick pace, her heart in her throat as he led them through the halls.

Once they were back in their chambers, her eyes seldom left him, watching every one of his movements carefully, noticing how highly strung he still was, how stiffly he moved as paced for a moment before he finally took a seat on the edge of the bed. 

His anger wouldn’t be leaving him easily. 

“Are you alright?”

He stayed quiet for a long moment, gazing ahead blankly, the burning fury that simmered in his veins leaving him practically trembling, the desire to wreak havoc not yet dissipating. 

Every part of him was wrought with tension, his mind a mess of thoughts, though his anger was the easiest to make sense of. 

“Don’t try to convince me that what I did was wrong.” He spoke bitterly.

“I won’t.” 

His jaw clenched, the events of the last few minutes running through his head on a loop, keeping him in the state of rage that made him shake, that made his hands twitch, wishing he had done more, wishing he could hurt that bastard the way he had been hurt all those years ago.

The thought briefly startled him. It was a thought he used to have frequently, when the rage in his heart was so new he didn’t know what to do with it. It was a thought he hadn’t focused on since being with her. 

The revelation had an unfamiliar upset stirring within him.

“I should sleep in my old chambers tonight.” He muttered tersely. 

The bitter anger burned within him, he felt on the edge of cracking and he would hate himself if he ever took it out on her, his sweet wife. He felt he needed to be far away from her to avoid darkening her with his presence.

“What?”

The sadness in her voice almost broke him. He closed his eye and bowed his head, he couldn’t bear to see the look on her face. 

“I don’t want you to see me like this.” 

It was quiet for a long moment, his words lingering in the room like an ominous death rattle that signaled the bitter end after a long, torturous fight. 

But she refused to let him sink into his despair. 

He flinched as she stepped before him, catching his gaze. Her hands smoothed out the doublet he wore, roaming upwards to brush the hair off his shoulders and gently caressing his neck as she reached up to hold his jaw affectionately. 

He let out a deep breath, the tension slowly but surely easing from him in waves under her touch. 

“I am not letting you feel this alone.” She told him, her voice soft yet stern, letting him know there was no way he would change her mind about this, that nothing could force her to accept his absence from her side. 

“I don’t seem to recognize myself around them.”

His whispered confession hit her harder than she had expected and she felt her breath hitch in her throat, her own emotions rising to the surface at the sight of him so tormented. 

“You can never undo what they took from you.” She began slowly, her voice wavering slightly. “I’ll never understand what you’ve been through. I wish I could and I’m so sorry I don’t, but you cannot let this consume you.”

His face remained a mask of torment, his derision and anger battling against the exhaustion that permeated his bitterness, that left him feeling weak in the aftermath of his rage. 

She gently guided him to tilt his head upward so she could look at him, so he could see her and the resolution on her face and understand her honesty.

“You are more than your eye. You are more than the rage you feel when you look at them. You are more than them.”

He almost shuddered under her hands, the words striking him with force as though they were dealt with a physical hit. 

“I see you, the real you. The one I fell in love with, my sweet husband, the father of my child.” 

With that, she grabbed his hand to place it over her stomach and his expression changed in an instant, the anger gone as he caressed where his child grew. 

He leaned forward, his forehead falling to rest against her chest, his arms circling her waist. He spread his legs, allowing her to step closer to him, her own arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding him tightly. 

She ran her fingers through his hair, the soft motions pulling a soft sound from deep within him, his rigid body falling lax against her. 

As she hugged him tightly she felt her eyes begin to sting with tears. She wished she could pull the agony from him, untangle the strings of rage that wound him so tightly. 

She wished she could’ve gone back in time and held tighter to the wounded boy who hid his despair from her for so long. 

~~

The girls are fightinggg

And the angst is coming xx

~~

Tag List:

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[ellecdc]

so what if im ovulating 🙄 doesnt change anything

anyways closer to a full moon remus would be so mean and rough and sirius would have to be the one thats soft with you and praises you and its such a 180 it makes you feel even dizzier than you were already feeling, hed coo and tell you how “youre doing such a good job for our moony, sweet girl” and remus would just be grunting “mine mine mine mine”

ive not rly studied for my exam do u think theyd pass me if i wrote this instead? xoxo

....... I'm not proud of this.......

wolfstar x fem/afab!reader close to the full moon (nsfw, 18+)

CW: pure filth, 100% smut. little fluff in the aftercare. p in v sex, cumming inside someone, over stimulation, slight subspace mention (?), slight dom/sub dynamics if you really squint and look at it sideways, writer is still new to writing smut and not well versed so be nice

There were quite a few things that Remus and Sirius had in common.

They were both very mischievous, they were both funny and teasing, they were both very protective and possessive, and they both seemed crazy about you.

But there were also a lot of differences between your two boyfriends. 

Remus was calm and assured; he was your rock and safe space when life got crazy. He was the good cop to Sirius’ bad cop, he was always down to leave the party early, and he was so incredibly soft with you.

And Sirius, whilst soft on you, was rarely ever soft with you. He was boisterous and excitable; always down for fun and adventure. He was quick to anger but just as quick to fold when your lip wobbled or you bat your eyelashes at him, and he knew how to push all of your buttons like a professional pianist’s fingers dancing along the keys of your soul. 

And it was because of this that you found your current predicament quite contrary to the norm (and thus, so much hotter). 

“I…I can’t, I can’t.” You cried breathlessly; currently held upright by a strong arm around your ribs and another hand gripping your neck.

The only response you got from the boy behind you was a low grumble as he tightened his grip on you and thrusted into you with new vigor. 

“Can you give Rem one more, sweetness?” Your usually very brazen  boyfriend murmured softly, pushing some of your sweaty  hair away from your face so he could see you. 

You keened and shook your head as you felt Remus move his hand that had been roughly gripping your waist down to your clit; every muscle in your body strung taut in response. 

“She’s close.” Remus gruffed from behind you before replacing his teeth gently into your neck.

“Are you close, sweets?” Sirius confirmed. 

It was too much, too much. You were very quickly reaching your… (third? Fourth?) orgasm of the evening and you weren’t even sure you’d been going at it for that long. 

Sirius was in much the same state, currently soft and satiated below you where he’d just spilled down your throat before you were pulled back up vertically to the sound of steady chants of “mine” by Remus. 

That had been his third of the evening too. 

“You’ve been so good, baby; so good for our Moony, yeah?” He cooed at you softly as he sat up. You felt tears form in your eyes as Remus shifted you in his grip so that your knees were barely touching the bed any longer. 

“Tell her she’s been a good girl, Moons.” Sirius encouraged gently, taking your hand in his that you quickly held in a death grip.

“S’good.” Remus nearly growled behind you. “My perfect girl.”

You cried out as you felt yourself fall over the edge one last time, tears falling down your cheeks as Remus fucked you through it.

Remus shifted his hands again to grip each of your wrists behind your hips and let your torso fall forward into the bed as he sped up his already merciless pace into your sopping cunt; the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing against the walls of the room. 

You felt Sirius’ hand push hair away from your neck and rub a thumb against your temple. 

“Gonna fill your good girl up, Rem?” He purred to your boyfriend.

Though you couldn’t see it, you could hear the two of them share a deep kiss which never even slowed Remus’ thrusts. 

“Mine.” Remus repeated as he pulled away from Sirius.

“All yours, Moony. Show her how much you love her, hm?”

And with that, Remus’ thrusts stuttered before he was spilling deep inside of you.

He came with a sound that bordered a whine and a growl as he fell forward; his body blanketing yours and burying his face into your neck as you both fought to catch your breath.

You’re not sure if you had fallen asleep, but the next thing you knew you could feel gentle kisses being pressed to your shoulder as Remus pulled out of you as gently as possible; with how oversensitive you were, it still caused you to hiss.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, dovey.” He whispered; pressing more kisses to your neck. “Are you sore?”

You whined in response and tried to shove your face further into the bed.

“Talk to us baby, are you okay?” Sirius added, appearing beside you and encouraging you to face him.

“M’Okay.” You mumbled, staring what you were sure was rather dopily at your long-haired boyfriend.

“I think Pads ran you a bath, sweet thing.” Remus murmured quietly, rubbing soothing strokes up and down your spine from behind you. “You feel okay to get up?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, though made no movements to rise from your current horizontal position.

You heard Sirius chuckle but Remus made a sympathetic cooing sound. “I’m so sorry, dovey. Are you sore?”

“No. Just sensitive.” You grumbled as you pushed yourself up to sit back on your ankles. “That was a lot.”

Remus sighed and brushed some hair away from your face. “It was a lot, but was it too much?” He clarified; tone inlaid with a subtle vulnerability completely at odds with the relentlessness he’d just treated you with.

“No.” You said as you offered him a sleepy smile. “Not too much.”

“I, for one, had a ton of fun.” Sirius said with a clap of his hands, causing Remus to snort a laugh.

“Yeah I bet you did.” He responded teasingly. 

“Wanna take a bath, princess? Go pee and then you can climb in with moons.” Sirius instructed as he helped you stand up on slightly wobbly legs. 

“No, she can climb in with you.” Remus argued. 

“Why would she climb in with me? I ran the bath for the two of you.”

“I was the one who took things too far, so-” Remus started, causing both you and Sirius to squawk in protest.

“She just said it wasn’t too much.” Sirius drawled. “Let me take care of you guys!”

“No!”You listened to the two boys argue over who got to perform the aftercare for the other (and thus, who loved each other the most, according to Sirius) as you went pee and then sunk into the perfectly drawn bath alone.

[daegall]

☆ tiny mishap

➷ in which your very protective boyfriend interrogates you about a certain wound you have

pairing: (opla!)bf!zoro x reader

genre: fluff, slight crack, established relationship!AU

warnings: injuries, booze, mentions of self harm (it is assumed, but false) based off opla!zoro, but has chopper bc chopper <3

word count: 1.5k words

a/n: to my nct audience; LOL SORRY IF THIS CAME UP IN UR FEED AND YOU GOT CONFUSED 😇🙏 currently obssesed over one piece live action dude i physically cannot explain how much i love all the characters :( (esp koby and nami's character development!!!) anw ive been having a major zoro brainrot so :) enjoy!!!

You grumble and keep a hand to your cheek, shoulders slumped and sore, as you walk into the kitchen, in search of someone specific.

Chopper, your trusty nurse and adorable friend, of course. Who else would heal the cut on your face and bruises on your arm?

Hearing a little action going on in the kitchen, you can only assume is your captain Luffy, or Usopp, as they both are food lovers, after all.

"Hey, have you guys seen Chopper anywhe–"

However, once you make it inside the kitchen, you are shocked to see the person you've been avoiding this whole morning.

"Oh," You breathe out. A frown curls on your lips once you realize he's got a bottle of booze wrapped in his hand, bringing it up to his lips as he turns to gaze at you. "Damn it, I thought I hid those..."

Your boyfriend's got a nasty habit of drinking alcohol. Anytime he wanted. Bored? He's either napping, training, or drinking his stupid booze. Tired? Booze. Feeling happy or sad? Stupid booze.

You've been trying to stop him before he becomes 80% alcohol, but he's better at finding it than you are at hiding it.

"Morning," Zoro mumbles, as he puts his bottle down. "tried to hide these just like you've been hiding from me me all day?"

At his words, you look away, taking a step away from him. "I don't know what you're talking about,"

"Why are you holding your cheek?"

When your eyes flicker back at him, he's got a worried frown, a crease in his eyebrows some might mistake as anger, but you recognize it as care.

He cares for you, and you hate how soft it makes you.

"It's just... cold," You attempt to lie, rubbing at your skin. Bad idea, as you fail to stop your hiss of pain.

Zoro instantly walks towards you, his hands releasing his bottle of beer, and his swords, to raise it to your face. One hand hovers over your uncovered cheek, the other wrapping it's fingers around your wrist gently.

"Show me."

You still, not knowing what to do. You know you're gonna succumb to him anyway, so there's no need to put up a fight, but you can't help how stubborn you are.

So, you don't step away, but you don't lower your hand anyway.

"Y/N," Zoro says sternly.

"It's nothing, I swear, just a tiny... mishap,"

"Then show me,"

Despite his voice being so harsh, and his gaze just as much, you know this is all because he loves you. You can tell by the way his thumb softly runs over your skin, you can tell by the way he steps closer to observe further, you can tell by the way he doesn't force you. He trusts that you trust him, and you hate how it works on you every time.

"Do you at least have any bandages?"

With your tiny voice and small gaze up at him, Zoro knows you've given in.

"You know I always do,"

It's true. With the amount of fights he gets himself into, he has at least 2 packs on him. Also in case you scrape your knee or get a papercut. It's the small things he does that assure you he cares.

He finally releases his grip on your wrist, walking back to pick up his bottle of beer on the counter. Before he can even take a sip, however, you hop onto the counter in front of him, and snatch the bottle, shaking your head.

"It's 10 in the morning." You remind him sternly.

Zoro can't stop the tiny smirk on the corner of his lips, huffing. "Yeah, yeah,"

You know he loves you, he knows you love him too.

It's the tiny things like this that prove it. The way you try to make him a better man, the way you'd instantly take care of his wounds yourself, the way you shush the other crewmembers when he's napping. And unlike you, he loves how soft it makes him.

"Take your hand off now."

Though you have a disapproving look, and grimace, you comply, slowly lowering your hand from your cheek.

You look down at your lap once you hear his sharp intake of air, playing with the hem of your shirt.

Zoro can't take his eyes off the cut on your cheekbone, his heart sinking impossibly quickly, cracking when he sees a bruise right under the cut. "What the fuck happened?"

"It just... happened," You mumble weakly.

"Who did it?" Zoro'a voice, once again, is harsh, but you hear the shake in it, worry.

"...I did,"

You know he takes it the wrong way the next second, considering how you answered him, you would have skipped to conclusions yourself.

"You're harming yourself?!"

You interject immediently, reaching out to grab his wrist, "No! God, no, Zoro,"

You haven't said his name until now, and it still manages to send a wave of warmth over his body. The way you are so quick to reassure him, the way you lean into his warmth, how your skin rubs against his comfortingly, it all warms him inside. He's only ever felt warm with you, which is why he loves you so much.

"Then how did it happen?"

At his question, you frown again, but it's less serious than before, it's more of a pout, if anything.

"It's stupid."

"It's not stupid if you're getting hurt."

"You'll think it's stupid,"

"Our captain is Luffy, whatever you do can't be that bad."

Zoro waits patiently for your answer, taking out the band-aid from his pocket. His eyes shine with anticipation, no longer (that) angry, and you're glad he isn't as worried anymore. You hate making him worry.

"I..." You hesitate for a second, tearing your eyes away from his gaze. You decide that it doesn't matter if he laughs or not in the end, because he won't ever see you differently. He's your Zoro, and he'll always be by your side.

"You know how there was a storm last night?"

Your boyfriend's eyebrows raise at your words, and he nods silently, gently sticking the band-aid to your cheek. He blows on it, making sure it's secure.

"I fell off my bed and face planted onto the floor,"

At your words, Zoro completely freezes, his fingers grazing the skin of your jaw. You can't tell what he's quite feeling, as one, you didn't have the pride to look at him for more than 2 seconds, and two, he remains as emotionless as a rock.

"...Zoro?"

Suddenly, there's a sound. A strange sound that comes from him. It's unfamiliar, but... strangely warm. You come to a conclusion that Roronoa Zoro, your cold, stoic boyfriend, is laughing. He's laughing with his whole heart, eyes squinting as he finally smiles, the prettiest, most precious smile you have ever seen.

Zoro's forehead lands on your shoulder as he continues, an arm wrapping around your waist to secure you in place.

"Roronoa Zoro are you laughing at me?"

"N-no–" He snorts. How dare he lie to your face.

Although he did flat out lie to your face, it's endearing. His laugh and smile is new, comforting, and you swear your could listen to it your whole life and not complain.

"I-I'm not laughing at you, I promise!"

"Doesn't look like it," You huff out with a grumble, facing away from, attempting to hide the shy smile curling on your lips.

"N-nooo!" Zoro chuckles. A sudden warm feeling envelops not only your chin, but your whole entire being, as Zoro tilts your head back to him, your heart almost stopping at the sight of his charming grin.

He's grinning.

And it's all because of you.

You have to admit, you're proud of yourself.

"You're just... too adorable,"

"Roronoa Zoro, you're flirting with me now?!"

"Shhh!" He shushes you, though its playful, and loving, placing his index finger on your smiley lips.

You two sit there, alone and together, for minutes on end, unable to let the moment become a memory. Zoro resumes with patching you up, caressing the bruises on your arm comfortingly.

It's moments like these that make you realize just how special you are to Zoro, and just how special he is to you, because who else on planet earth would be able to get him to laugh thay hard, grin that much, and love you that much?

You'd crash into the floor a million times if it meant seeing Zoro's smile, you'd admit to any embarassing moment, if it meant having to hear his melodious laugh.

"You know," He breaks the peaceful silence, causing you to grow concious of how you were staring at him. To be fair, the both of you don't mind staring at each other. What's there to hide? You love him, he loves you.

"you could come nap with me if you want. I could keep you anchored to the bed so you don't fall out again."

Considering how much he valued his hours of sleep, and alone time, this is something big he asks you of, and you feel a sweet warmth stirr in you.

This time, you don't grow shy, or snarl at his sarcastic remark. Rather, you grin at your lover, reaching up to pinch his chin playfully. "You'd like that, huh?"

"Don't say you wouldn't,"

"And if I drag you down with me?"

Zoro shrugs, ruffling your bed-head. "We'll both get to laugh and patch each other up."

You reach up to peck his cheek, before hopping off the counter. "I'll take you up on that someday,"

[hannieween]

chaser | heartbreaker series | c.sc

Breakups are tough. For years, you had to push your feelings down to try and move on. But now, you were back again with Choi Seungcheol, rekindling the ardent flame of your love, and lost promises.

✧ pairing: choi seungcheol x female reader ✧ genre: angst, fluff, smut (18+) ✧ aus: bar owner seungcheol, ex seungcheol, secret relationship ✧ word count: 15.8k

›🎧: up late – gemini | can we go back – dojaejung | come back to me – rm | blue – v | i love it – dean, dok2 | merry go – dpr ian | healing killing – tabber | shadow – ten | mon amour – gemini | different – woodz

→ previous chapters – read more

› smut warnings under the cut

✧ warnings: smut with plot, dubcon (slight somnophilia), daddy kink, dom seungcheol, sub reader, reader is on birth control, big dick seungcheol, multiple sex scenes (these two are unstoppable), literal love making, pussy eating, morning sex, unprotected p in v sex, creampies, overstimming, rough fucking, manhandling, dirty talk, edging, seungcheol is kind of a menace, creampies, aftercare, pillowtalk, exhibitionism: groping in the workspace, quickie in the workspace. pet names: love, baby, angel (hers) daddy, babe (his) ✧ author's note: this is very long overdue, i kept putting it off and on because i wasn't feeling it and honestly, the city lights series is kind of a hyperfixation of mine so... yeah hehe. i hope you like this!! (❁´◡`❁) ✧ disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂

part iv

It was more than just a dream.

You remember everything quite well. It was one of those games in which you were certain that Seungcheol could get anything he wanted only by his determination.

Seungcheol was sweaty. His long black hair stuck to the back of his neck and his forehead. He grabbed the hem of the red jersey he wore, lifted it up, to clean the sweat on his upper lip, revealing his abdomen in the process.

You remember overhearing the chattering and muffled giggles from the girls sitting behind you on the bleachers. You didn't bother to look back, or to even try and listen to what they were saying. Because all eyes were on him.

Seungcheol was the team captain, top of his class. And he was hot as fuck. So that made him inadvertently popular around the campus.

It also didn't help that he was putting on a show. It was late at night but the misty summer breeze didn't help to alleviate the heat that had him covered in sweat, plus the exercise he got from running on the field.

He would let his head hang back a little as he crossed the field with a slow, exhausted walk, recovering with hard and deep breaths before jumping on a sprint. Sometimes, whenever he was just on standby, he would grab his shirt by the hem and lift it upwards, fanning some air to his sweaty tummy.

Slowly, you felt the dream slip away from you as wakefulness started to kick in. You tried to hold on to the faint slivers of your dream, to the memory of Seungcheol's gummy smile, running to you, victorious.

You were fully awake now, but you had to force yourself to remember. He lifted you in his arms, spinning you around, laughing at the squeal you made. It was his last game as a university student. And he had won, just as he always did.

"You won, baby," he told you.

"I didn't, you did," you smiled at him, encircling his neck with your arms.

"You gave me luck," he said, as he always did.

The sunlight poured through the tall windows and onto the large bed, until slowly as the morning rolled in, you felt its warm soaking on your skin, pouring slowly onto your exposed arm and chest, and then onto your face.

Upon blinking you realized that you had shed some tears in your sleep.

A heavy arm slid on your waist and circled your torso with a pleased sigh, pulling you so his front was pressed to your back. The warmth radiating from his body was unlike the sunlight creeping onto your bodies. It was snuggly and familiar.

Seungcheol hummed softly, half asleep but conscious enough to plant a kiss in your hair, nuzzling his face with another soft sigh. The arm wrapped around you moved again, his hand sliding to the centre of your tummy.

You were still trying to come to terms that you were back to reality, barely aware of what Seungcheol was up to when with a small grunt, he moved his body on top of yours, littering your chest with kisses, trailing down to your tummy.

In seconds, his hands were angling your thighs open for him, kissing your lower tummy, making you arch your back to get more of his open kisses, the slight brush of his wet lips against your inner thighs making you open your eyes.

You brought up a hand to gather your tears, feeling a bit puzzled as the other hand found his head nuzzled between your languid thighs, when his teeth grazed your skin softly, bringing out a groggy moan from you.

Your hands quickly grabbed the sides of his head. "Babe?" you rasped. "Cheol, what are you doing?"

His mouth was already sliding on your mound with sweet, wet kisses, trailing down to lick and softly bite your pussy lips, bringing you back to life in a second.

"Baby, oh god, yes," you mewled, body jolting on the bed, you pulled back the bedsheets, uncovering your body, Seungcheol between your thighs as he slowly began to push his mouth between your folds, kissing you openly.

You arched your back instinctively, letting out a raspy moan as his tongue laved generously at the arousal already pooling at your entrance.

Your mind fragmented between the dream and reality. Your ex-boyfriend's hair was long, but now it was dyed in a pale blond. As you propped yourself up on one elbow, you saw his upper back, stockier than you remembered it.

But there was no denying that no matter how long it had passed, Seungcheol still knew you like the back of his hand. He pushed a hand on your lower tummy, very close to your mound, leaving the top of it exposed, your swollen clit to the mercy of his tongue.

Seungcheol paused, casting a loving look at you before diving right back into your pussy, letting out a raspy hum like a man starved, his free hand creeping up to your chest, finding your breast to give a gentle squeeze with his fingers, a thumb brushing over your nipple.

"Cheol," you called softly, fingers grazing his scalp as you held onto his hair. "Just like that, daddy, please."

He groaned in response, moving his tongue in swift side to side movements on your clit, his hand pressing harder on your lower tummy, the feeling in your cunt intensifying.

"Oh god!" you gasped when his fingers pinched your nipple and tugged at it, caressing your boob with his fingers just to hear more of the noises you made.

He trapped your puffy clit between his lips, pulling at it, causing smacking noises as he continued to do it repeatedly, humming in your pussy, the sound vibrating in your sensitive bud.

"Cheol," you mewled, closing your eyes to the pleasure burning in your body. "God, daddy, I'm close," you whispered.

He wrapped his lips around your clit, immediately starting to suckle at it, the slurping sounding loudly in between your lewd whimpers and sharp gasps.

You used the hand clenching on his hair to press him down your cunt almost as a reflex before your head lolled back, pleasure consuming your body quickly, tingling in your face and making you cry out his name.

As your orgasm flooded inside your body, Seungcheol continued teasing your clit with his mouth, waiting for you to relax into your high. His big eyes darted a look up at you, but his mouth didn't relent.

"Mmn, Cheol," you called in a breathy tone, being that you were a languid mess. "So good."

His tongue pressed flatly on your core again, drinking in your arousal with a pleased and raspy moan.

Seungcheol didn't say anything, pressing kisses on your pussy lips before detaching his mouth from it, pulling his body back so he stood on his knees.

The bed covers and the sheets fell from his back. Your eyes roamed all over his body, wholly naked in between your thighs. His milky white skin bathed by the morning sunlight contrasting beautifully with the dark backdrop of his bedroom.

You would never get enough of such a sight. His body was perfect, his broad chest and beefy and strong arms that held you throughout the night, his meaty thighs, his long and thick cock, standing fully hard now. Seungcheol was perfect.

Seungcheol noticed your eyes on him, giving you a smile that could heal every wound, every ache you have ever felt. Your heart jolted in your chest, you loved him so much still that you could sob.

"You're okay there, baby?" he asked softly. There was a light frown on his face, probably noticing the tears brimming in your eyes.

You nodded, leaning your back into the mattress and you extended a hand to him. "I need you. Right now, Cheol."

Seungcheol trusted you. He knew that if you were not okay, you would speak out. But that didn't ease the frown. He moved his body on top of you, his big arms framing your head, his face leaning closer to yours.

"Are you sure? Am I doing something wrong?" he whispered with genuine worry lacing his tone.

You used the proximity to his face to press feathery kisses on his lips. "No, I'm sure," you whispered. "Don't stop, please, Cheol."

The corner of his lips quirked up slightly, but he didn't reply verbally. He moved one arm from the side to your head, sneaking it between your body and his to grab his cock, guiding it to your core.

"Look at me, angel," he breathed, nudging his cockhead in your entrance.

If you could lose yourself in those sweet, but dark eyes, you would. As he started pushing in, you felt the muscles of your face go lax, making your mouth part.

Seungcheol mimicked your expression, his full lips parting as he sheathed himself inside you slowly, a quiet, strangled groan coiling in his throat, making his Adam's apple bob.

His eyebrows knitted when his hips met your own, making him sigh deeply, his cock fully inside you now, his arm returned to frame your head and you realized that you had pushed your eyebrows inward too.

Your hands held onto his strong shoulders, then your fingernails dug deeply into the hard muscle on his back, making him moan as he dragged his thick cock back and pushed it right into your tight and warm walls.

"God," he breathed, his eyelids fluttering when he closed them briefly.

The experience of being with him after so long of being apart was nearly mind-shattering for a second. You never wanted something more than being with him like this, the nights spent dreaming with memories of him... and now you were there. It was real.

"Seungcheol?" you called, your voice tiny, but quivering slightly.

"Yes, baby?" he rasped, hips rolling slowly on top of yours, moving his cock inside you at a deliciously good pace.

You shivered slightly when his fingers grazed your scalp, twisting gently in the locks of your hair.

"Baby? What's wrong?" he asked softly, his brow furrowed again when your eyes finally let your tears go.

You moved one hand from his back, meeting his cheek. A tiny sob broke inside you when Seungcheol leaned his face against the palm of your hand. The movement was almost instinctive, as though his body remembered all of the times he did that in the past.

"I love you," you whispered.

For a moment, it seemed that the world had stopped, because your heart had. It had been years since you uttered those words to anyone, and the last person to hear those words coming from you was him.

His dark eyes glinted with some emotion, reading the features of your face swiftly. His frown had relaxed the moment he heard you utter those words to him.

"I love you," he whispered back, gulped hard and dropped his forehead on top of yours with a moany sigh. "I love you. I love you."

You sobbed, your other hand finding his other cheek so you were cupping his face fully now, lips meeting in tender and brief kisses as he kept moving his hips in deep and slow thrusts.

"Cheol," you sighed, instinctively pushing your knees back angling your hips for him to push his own against yours, his cock reaching deeper in this new position.

"I'm here, baby," he whispered, and then with a sharp intake of breath, added: "I never stopped loving you."

"Neither did I," you breathed.

Seungcheol let out a sound between a raspy moan and sighed as he crushed his mouth with yours, kissing you deeply, as if trying to convey all of the I love yous he didn't get to say when you left.

His chest pressed flush against yours as he rolled his hips on yours. "You are my everything," he muttered, though his voice broke halfway through the sentence.

You knew him well enough to know that he struggled with saying what his heart felt. So hearing that caused a powerful shudder in you. "You are too, Seungcheol," you whispered, swallowing your tears. "Always have been."

"I missed you so much," he continued, as if in a maddened frenzy, pushing his hips slowly and urgently, his pace pushing your body in the sheets slightly, if it were now for his arms framing your head.

"I missed you too," you breathed, running your fingers through his hair to then link them on his nape. "Everyday, all the time."

"God, baby," he whispered, squeezing his eyelids shut for a second. "Angel, I'm close."

You only nodded with your head, not caring anymore about coming for a second time, you just wanted to feel him, to hear his raspy moans and sighs, to be this close to him.

However, Seungcheol thought differently. "I want you to come again," he said, hooking one of your legs on his shoulder expertly, and then the other.

Your eyes brimmed with tears of pleasure as he pushed his cock inside you but deeper this time, eliciting a long and raw moan from you from the change. Your hands tightened the grip on his hard biceps as his hips plowed on you.

"God, " you mewled as your head sank back on the pillow, writhing under his body. "Please, please, Cheol, don't stop, please."

"That's it, angel," he praised, sighing a pleased smile that wrinkled the corners of his eyes. But then, you could see his own orgasm overtaking him, his dark eyes glazing over the overwhelming pleasure, his lower lip quivering slightly as he let out a guttural moan but his eyes never left your face, watching your face as you came around him. "That's it, baby. Come for me."

As if on command, you felt pleasure blooming inside you, waves of bliss washing and sizzling from under your skin. The feeling so strong that you had to squeeze your eyes for a second, seeing stars in the sudden darkness. "Fuck," you mouthed, being overcome by ecstasy. "Cheol, babe," you mewled.

"I'm here," he whispered. "Look at me, baby," he pleaded in a louder, raspy tone.

When you opened your eyes, you saw his lips parting, his eyes glistening, his nose wrinkled a little bit before he grunted with his mouth slightly opened. "God, baby," he groaned, pushing his hips against you sloppily, his cock clamped by your pulsating warmth, tipping him over too.

You moved your hand to cup his cheek, locking eyes with him as he came. There was a sense of satisfaction filling your chest when he too, looked overwhelmed by pleasure. He sucked in a breath, and a grunt left his mouth next, thrusting his cum inside you slowly and forcefully, until he stopped, breathless.

Your hand slided on his cheek, running the pad of your thumb on his lower lip as you kept your gaze on the features of his face, smiling at him when he did the same, moving one hand clumsily to caress your face.

"Hi, baby," he sighed heavily, his red lips stretching in a wide smile.

"Hi, Cheol," you giggled, his gaze softening when he heard your laugh.

"Are you okay, love?" he asked then, his eyes roaming over the features of your face, reading you expertly.

"Yeah, I'm okay, babe," you gave him a nod with your head.

"Are you sure?" he insisted, his hand on your cheek slipped beneath your head, leaning over to leave a kiss on your forehead.

"I was just feeling a little sentimental," you mumbled, pushing his long blond hair back, using the pads of your fingers to caress his face. "I dreamt of you, that's all," you explained, now toying with the earrings adorning his earlobe.

"Oh, yeah?" he whispered with a sweet, endearing looking grin. "What did you dream about that got you tearing up, baby?"

"Remember your last match in uni?" you ventured to ask, pausing for him to give you a short nod with his head. "That's it, I guess it was more like a memory than a dream."

"And that was the reason you were crying, baby?" his tone was sweet, his dark, glistening eyes still outlining your features. He grinned when you nodded at him again. "Really? Why?"

"I'm–I just miss you," you whispered nervously, choking up with the memory of him in his university days, when your relationship was blooming and you felt like nothing could tear you down, as long as you were with him.

"I'm here, baby," he leaned over, bumping the tip of his nose with yours before he pressed his smiling lips on yours, grazing them before he locked yours in a brief, warm kiss. "Not going anywhere."

You giggled. "Neither will I," you mumbled with a shaky voice, feeling like you were threading down a dangerous path with that sentence.

"I'm not letting you go either way," he replied, his tone had dropped to a raspy low one.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he replied with certainty. "I meant what I said, I'm ready for us," he said and you pretty much understood that he was calling back to the big discussion you had when you finalized your relationship with him.

"I'm ready too," you said, choking up again at the memory of that night.

"I know," he smirked.

After all, he knew you better than anyone in the world.

He propped his hands on the pillows to peel his body off yours, thus pulling out of your sopping wet walls, with a tired grunt. "Come here," he whispered when he climbed off the bed.

You obediently crawled to the edge of the bed, where he promptly lifted you up, bridal style. "You know I can walk there," you smiled at the proud look on his face.

"And you know that you don't have to, baby," he replied, the tips of his ears turning red. "Don't pretend you don't like it."

That made you giggle giddily. "You may have a point there, Cheol," you shrugged slightly.

Seungcheol set you down on the bathroom floor, turning his back on you to reach out to turn the shower on. You looked around the room, aimlessly.

"What?" he asked, his eyebrow cocking up slightly when he read your face.

"Can you... give me a minute, please?" you asked meekly.

"Seriously?" he started with a breathy laugh. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I'm serious!" you replied in kind.

"Why are you being shy about that?" he asked bewilderedly. "I've seen you pee before. Like thousands of times."

You scrunched up your face in a grimace. "Please, babe. I don't know if I can hold it anymore."

His laugh bounced on the walls of the polished bathroom. "Okay, okay!" he replied, still giggling himself silly.

But he did not turn and walk out of the bathroom, instead, he just simply hopped in the shower, closing the glass door and moving to stand under the shower head.

"Babe!" you squealed, eliciting another goofy laugh from him.

"What, I'm not watching!" he protested. "My eyes are closed!"

You sat on the toilet, biting your lower lip in concentration, feeling your brow furrow and you let out a big sigh.

Seungcheol heard that. "Baby, just go," he sneaked a look through the glass door of the shower, hair completely wet and pushed back, his naked, gorgeous body glistening wet.

"I can't if you're watching me," you said shyly, a smile breaking the concentration written in your face.

"Why? You've done it in front of me before," he shrugged and returned to stand under the stream of water. "Countless times."

"Yeah but..." you sighed again, but now in relief as you finally could relieve yourself.

Seungcheol smiled when you stepped into the shower floor afterwards, moving so you could stand beneath the showerhead. "What were you saying?"

"Nothing," you pressed your lips into a smile. "You're right, I was just feeling shy."

"It's okay baby. I get it," he shrugged, his eyes set on the movements of your body as you started rubbing your shampoo on your scalp.

"I guess we have been away from each other for so long that it's hard to get myself back to how we were before."

The honesty in your words was so blunt that it hit you only after you had already uttered them. Time froze for a second and you blinked the water from your lashes to sneak a look to his face.

He looked solemn, nodding slowly but you noticed the sad glint in his eyes, dimming the natural spark in them. "I understand," he muttered, but you noticed right away that he felt rejected. "I don't want you to feel pressured into doing stuff that we used to do like before. We can take it step by step. Mark new boundaries."

And with that, he stepped out of the shower, leaving you to continue showering in your own space.

Seungcheol was so quick to jump back to the relationship that he did not share the same burden that you carried. It was stupid, but you still felt like you had a lot to atone. And that stopped you from jumping with him.

You felt bad, but not only because of the dejectedness your words caused Seungcheol to feel. You felt bad for all of the time that you lost while being away from him. You felt bad for not being able to pick up where you left off with him.

And you wanted to change that, consequences be damned.

Kim Mingyu missed his shift for the second time the following day.

He sent a text early in the morning in the group chat, telling Seungcheol he had family matters to tend to.

But Seungcheol knew Mingyu well enough to tell when he was bullshitting.

"He's not doing great at the moment," Wonwoo informed his boss as they were setting up before open hours.

"I'll talk to him," Seungcheol stated with decisiveness, drawing a curious glance from you.

"Sure, boss?" Wonwoo asked. "I can do it. He's been avoiding everyone."

Wonwoo brought a hand to his nape, scratching aimlessly as he appeared to consider something over a moment. "On second thought..." he paused, then brought a lithe finger to push up the frames sitting on the nose of his bridge. "I think it's a good idea. You should talk to him, boss. Maybe he'll listen to you."

Seungcheol gave no verbal reply. He just nodded his pale blond head and disappeared behind the kitchen doors.

"Is Mingyu alright, though?" you asked curiously as you wiped a glass jar with a dishcloth.

"Absolutely not," Wonwoo confessed with a hollow laugh. "He's been a mess. He doesn't leave his room."

Wonwoo was worried, you could tell from the way the muscles above his eyebrows dipped slightly.

"And you think Seungcheol talking to him is a good idea?" you wondered, a genuine curiosity reverberating in your tone.

Wonwoo sent a side glance at you. The tall man was standing beside you, now that you were overtaking Mingyu's position for the day. It was a very slow day though, but Seungcheol had asked for you to cover.

"Boss might not be the most tactful guy I know," Wonwoo muttered between his teeth, sending casual glances to the kitchen doors. "But he definitely has more experience than me around... this stuff."

You stilled for a fraction of a second before resuming to clean the next jar. "What do you mean?" you pressed, trying to sound as unknowingly as you could.

"Mmn, let's just say that I've never been through a breakup like this," he put in with a nonchalant tone. "But boss has."

Your heart skipped a beat, sending a painful spasm in your chest. "Oh," you blinked. "I didn't know that."

It appeared as though Wonwoo believed your lie, pressing his lips into a tight line as he nodded slowly. "I met him after it happened, but it apparently shocked everyone that knew him and his ex. We have some friends in common, so that's how I heard of it."

"Sounds like a big breakup," you smiled stiffly.

"Yeah, I mean," Wonwoo cocked his head towards the very big neon sign on the wall behind the bartop that read Heartbreaker in red letters.

You filled your tummy with a big breath to suppress the guilt trying to set right in. "That explains some things," you sighed awkwardly.

"I've only heard stories," Wonwoo said with a low tone, still sending cautious glances at the kitchen door. "Boss has never actually said nothing about it. Well, to be honest, he rarely ever tells nothing about himself. He's all work."

"Really?" your voice shot up slightly.

Wonwoo's gaze panned over to where you stood behind the bartop. "Really. I've known him for two years already, he's never said a thing," he told you casually. "But I met him through a friend who knows him from a while back so, word got around that he was left broken pretty badly."

You had expected to hear something like this, but not from Wonwoo, not from someone that was not aware that it was you who broke his heart. The guilt consumed you like a fiery discomfort settling on the pit of your stomach, but with a gulp of air, you tried your best to compose yourself.

It was too late, Wonwoo had his head tilted to one side, his eyes analyzing your face. He didn't budge like you did, when Seungcheol came back to the general area.

"Everything alright?" Seungcheol asked, noticing the very evident interruption in the conversation.

"Everything alright, boss," Wonwoo replied without deterring his eyes from your face, a second passed and then he turned to Seungcheol. "Are you handling the tables tonight, then?"

"It's a slow day, so I might help you out here and there," he looked around, a frown on his face. "Where is the new kid? Chan."

Wonwoo shook his head. "He only comes on the weekends."

"Right," Seungcheol scrunched up his nose, palming the lacquered bartop with his hand. "Well, then I'm going to be handling the tables tonight. And maybe we should think of hiring more people starting next month."

He pressed his lips into a line before walking to the door that led to the back of the bar and disappeared.

"What is your deal with him, anyway?" Wonwoo asked abruptly, grabbing a box of beers to place in an organized rows inside the fridges.

"I just... want to understand why he is like this," you explained, though your words were uncertain, making your tone sound hollow.

"It was worse when I met him," he muttered, stretching his arm into the fridge to obsessively place the bottles into neat rows. "Like you said, he is not that bad now. And to be fair, he hasn't been nearly as bad to you as he was to Mings when he was the newbie."

You realized that the bottles were organized by the brewing style as well. "I see," you replied unconvincingly.

Wonwoo closed the door of the fridge for a moment, wiping his hands with a dry cloth as he took some reluctant steps towards you. "In fact, he's gotten a lot better lately. It wasn't until you arrived here that he got all pissy again."

"Is that so?" you asked, trying to keep a blank face, but you were pretty sure that he had you all figured out already.

"That's so," Wonwoo said, his voice dropping to a mere whisper, the corner of his mouth curved up slightly.

You and your stupid mouth.

You knew there was no issue with Seungcheol if Wonwoo and Mingyu knew about your shared past. He has told you time and time again that you could trust the two bartenders because he trusts them both with his life.

The truth was, you were scared. You didn't want to bear witness to Wonwoo or Mingyu treating you differently if they knew you were partially the reason why their boss had this reputation of being a jerk.

But it was clear that Wonwoo, being the detective that he was, had already noticed your very difficult to hide attraction to Seungcheol. That, on top with your brief interrogation might be two things to put together, thus uncovering you as the evil ex that left him badly broken.

"Maybe he likes you," he shrugged, clicking his tongue and sucking in a slow breath.

"Wonwoo!" you reprimanded in an scandalous fashion, dropping your hands at your sides and you felt the muscles of your eyes stretch wildly. "You can't know that!"

Jeon Wonwoo laughed, the bridge of his nose wrinkling in the process so he had to push his glasses back up with the tip of his finger. "I mean, that's the only explanation in my mind. Why would he get this pissy? Maybe he finds a certain attraction for you but can't really express it, you know? He's a difficult man when it comes to that stuff."

"What do you mean?" you tilted your head to one side, pretending to be completely clueless.

"He uh..." he shot a look to the door that led to the backrooms. And being certain that the coast was clear, he continued, he even leaned back against the door of the fridge. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but I am also intrigued, so, whatever," he shrugged. "He dated someone briefly not long ago, cut it off shortly after, worst week of my life."

A sharp pain crossed your heart like a lightning bolt, making the muscles of your face freeze. "Of your life?" you tried smiling but it came out as a stiff recoil of your facial features. "Seems a bit much, doesn't it?"

"I'm not saying that to make it about myself, I get how it sounds but," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "The man was pissed off all the time."

"Well, maybe it just didn't work out like he expected," you muttered, pretending to be cleaning the surface of the bartop thoroughly, but your heart was pounding a mile per second, each pump hurting your chest, robbing you of air.

A thought crossed the back of your mind: the way Seungcheol comfortably threw the comment of you dating other people, having sex with other people during the time you were abroad. He assumed that you also moved on, because he had too.

Wonwoo muttered something under his breath that sounded like: "It makes me wonder," but did not proceed to tell you more. And you did not push.

Because you were trying with all of your might to appear uninterested. Even if Wonwoo was apparently open to the idea to talk about your boss behind his back, you were completely unequipped to take this new information with a blank face.

"So have you found a place to stay?" Wonwoo asked some minutes after.

You understood that the question came from a place of genuine interest and not just because he wanted to change the subject of conversation. "Yeah, I'm staying with someone," you pressed your lips in a tight smile when your voice broke at the last word.

"Oh, that's good to hear," he muttered, resuming to place the beer bottles neatly on the shelves of the fridge. "So you do have friends after all."

"What is that supposed to mean now?" you laughed and you noticed him raise his eyes above the rim of his glasses to take a look at your smile.

He smiled too. "You said you didn't have friends, if I remember correctly," he muttered with an awkwardness about his manner.

"You don't," you chuckled. "I never said that. I do have friends... just not that many."

"Imaginary friends don't count."

"He's not imaginary, he's very real!" you protested with a high-keen tone.

"He?" he huffed with a small grin. "So it's just one friend."

"Yeah," you sighed shamefully, your tone dropping to a tiny one. "Just one."

"Well, consider me and Mings as friends," he closed the fridge, swinging the cloth over his shoulder. "So it's plural now. Friends."

Friends.

Something warm and cozy filled your chest. It felt nice, it felt right.

"I usually don't drink on mondays," Yoon Jeonghan stated, looking down at the table as the large jug of pale beer was set in the middle along with your food.

"You're gonna," you replied to him, pouring him and yourself a glass.

"Damn, you do need it," his eyes widened and his jaw dropped in a wide smile.

"I do," you sighed, chugging the half of your glass before stopping to breathe. "I don't think I can do this sober."

He chuckled with his mouth wide open. "Fair enough," he lifted his glass and drank, throwing you a curious glance.

"What?" you inquired.

He let out a breath after chugging half of his glass to be on par with you. "Nothing, it's just... I never thought I would see you again, y'know?"

"I could say the same," you admitted.

"Before you start explaining and I really do want to hear your version of this, let me put you in my perspective," he spoke fast, and you could tell he was nervous because he was bouncing on his seat like a little kid.

"Okay," you conceded, though it was unnecessary because this was Jeonghan, he was going to have his way.

He set his palms down on the restaurant table. "One night you were telling me that you were dropping all of your plans of getting your master's degree and the next day, you were gone."

You blinked and nodded, understanding how the situation looked for him.

He continued. "I had to find out from your crazy ass parents that you were gone."

"Seungcheol didn't tell you?" you had to ask, feeling shy to interrupt him.

He shook his black haired head. "He didn't speak to me or to anyone I know for a month. He hid from everyone, to this day, I don't know where he went," he paused and you saw that he was still upset about it. "I showed up to your parents' and had to ask what the hell was happening 'cause you were out of reach and Seungcheol didn't answer his phone," his gaze fell out of focus, lost in the memory. "When I saw him again, he was packing up his stuff, moving to another apartment."

"God, I'm so sorry, Han," you muttered, dropping your gaze in utter shame.

"And then, you know what your parents say?" he pushed his hair back from his forehead, getting angrier at the mention of your parents. "They told me that you were not coming back. They acted like it was funny that I was looking for you. They told me you were continuing your studies and god knows where you were coming back."

You nodded slowly, biting your lower lip.

"So you do know about that. Great," he sat back and drank the remaining half of his glass. "Care to take it from there?"

"That's why I'm not on speaking terms with my parents," you begun to explain. "They wanted me married to some old guy by the time I received my master's diploma."

"Let me tell you this before you continue," he placed a hand softly on your forearm. "Your parents are the worst people I've ever met in my life."

"I know," you nodded again, hearing that from your closest friends wasn't exactly a new thing but you wondered for how long Jeonghan held that back.

"Shittiest parents in the world," he went on, throwing his hand away.

"Damn, okay," you laughed.

"Sorry," he chuckled again. "Got carried off."

You had to pause upon hearing his laugh, it sent a warm, fuzzy feeling inside you almost in an instant. Much as if your best friend's laugh was the kind of medicine you were missing for so long.

"Where was I?" you frowned. "Ah, yes—my parents married me off to some dude to form another political alliance and I didn't proceed so that's why I got cut off and been living alone since then."

Jeonghan blinked. "Jesus," he muttered. "You actually got married?"

"God, no," you shook your head violently. "They made me sign a binding contract saying that I'd marry anyone they selected for me. I broke the contract, paid a lawyer and everything."

"Jesus," he hissed again, dropping his chopsticks to his plate. "That's insane. Does Cheol know about that?"

You shook your head again and poured more beer in his glass and then yours, avoiding his gaze.

"Fuck, that's crazy," he muttered again, ruffling his fluffy black hair irately. "Your family is fucking crazy."

"I knoooow," you whispered, feeling the alcohol take its effect slowly, making your cheeks hot. "That's not the end of it, though."

"There's more?" his eyes widened in alarm. "You were right, I can't do this sober either."

Jeonghan chugged some more beer and you waited for him to stop swallowing it because you've known him to spit out his drink if he hears something shocking or worthy of a laugh.

"Because I had to pay a bunch of legal fees, and the PhD and everything I kind of started blowing off my savings and used my stipend to survive but, it wasn't enough so–"

"You ended up in Cheol's bar," he inferred.

"That's right," you nodded.

"And you didn't see him?" he asked with a frown. "He practically lives there."

"All the hiring process was handled by Wonwoo," you pressed your lips in a fine line. "I didn't see Seungcheol until it was my first day at the job."

He set his empty glass down on the table with a blank expression on his face. "You have the most terrible luck on earth, let me tell you that."

You started laughing—not out of joy. It was almost a crazed laugh, probably fuelled by coming clean and the two glasses of beer that you already downed.

"I know, I know," you wiped off a tear from your maniacal laugh.

"So what are you planning on doing now?" he asked, intrigued by your drunken laugh and honesty. "With Seungcheol."

You sent him an inquisitive look. "He told you something."

He sighed heavily and set aside his chopsticks again. "He didn't. But I'm not dumb and I know you two fuckers better than anyone else in the world."

Jeonghan was right, he was quick on reading you as well as Seungcheol.

"So are you back together?" he inquired.

You nodded.

"Do you still love him? After all this time?"

"I do," you frowned. "You know I didn't want to leave, right?"

"He told me something like that," he nodded. "Even if he didn't say a lot."

"Jeonghan," you placed a hand on top of his, drawing his gaze to yours. "I'm sorry for leaving with no explanation. I know I could've done things differently, and I'm sorry for not trying back then."

"You were dumb, I know. But I also know that you'll make things right," he pressed his lips in a comfy smile. "Everything's forgiven."

You smiled at that and he pulled you into a side hug and rubbed the back of your head briefly.

"You can start setting things straight by paying the bill," he laughed. "I'm kidding, 'mkidding!"

He laughed at the cold stare you sent him.

"Right, you're broke now so I should be treating you," he chuckled again.

"I'm not broke," you countered, toying with the hem of your shirt. "Well, just a bit."

"You'll be fine," he said soothingly.

"And how are you?" you asked, casting a glance upon the man you swore you'd be best friends with your whole life.

"I am alright," he shrugged, his eyes lost on the table below his arms. But you knew him like you knew yourself. He was avoidant, he didn't open up unless he was insisted to.

"I've seen that your company has grown a lot," you smiled with both hurt and pride. Pride for Jeonghan coming this far, hurt for not being there for him.

"Yeah, I've been doing well," he smiled shyly as he usually did, avoiding your gaze with a long blink of his eyes.

"Do you..." you inhaled deeply, and your pause was long enough for Jeonghan to search your eyes again. "Do you have someone special in your life now? Has someone finally worked up into Yoon Jeonghan's heart?"

Jeonghan looked hurt for a second before shaking his head. "Nah," he let out a characteristic low chuckle. "I gave up on that shit a while ago."

"Seriously?" you tried to give him a grin, but it failed when you saw that he did not respond to your expression well.

Jeonghan planted his elbow on the table to prop his head on his fist, the other hand pushing his plate aside. "If you knew how my fucking love life looks like right now," he laughed bitterly. "I don't know if this is the kind of conversation you want to have after years of not seeing each other."

Your heart deflated in your chest, causing some slight pain as you tried to recuperate yourself fast. "Tell me," you prompted. "I want to know everything I missed."

Jeonghan's eyes read your face, a downturned smile on his face as he pondered on your request.

"Jeonghan," you started, sliding a hand on the table to grab his own. "I haven't seen you in two years, or heard from you. I wanna know anything you have to tell me..."

He let out a deep sigh. "Okay," he conceded. "Although my life is not as crazy as yours, it has been a little... chaotic this past month."

"Pfft," you huffed. "I think it'll take a big, big scandalous thing to shock me."

Your best friend paused for a second, still reading your face with his big brown eyes before letting out with a shameful smile trying to break the features of his face. "Wow, you really missed out on so much," he realized for a second, now mustering some boldness before blurting: "I'm in love with my best friend's girlfriend."

For a second, you believed he might be trying to pull a prank on you. After all, you knew him as someone that likes to be a bit of a jester, to get the biggest reaction from you, in particular.

So you just stared him down in disbelief. "Be serious, Jeonghan."

"I'm being completely serious," he blinked slowly, the downturn smile turning into something sad, shameful even. "We might or might not have had sex a week ago."

"What?" you gasped, looking at the tables surrounding the one where you and Jeonghan sat. "Shouldn't you—shouldn't you tell your friend about this?"

"I don't have to tell him," he shrugged again, seemingly upon remembering something. "He knows about it. He knows everything. He was there too. Watched the whole thing."

"Hannie," your eyes were widened in bewilderment. "What the fuck?"

Jeonghan nodded, releasing a tired sigh that told you how emotionally worn he actually was. "He knows I love her. She doesn't," he bristled in pain, you noticed, the way that he blinked pausedly and the joints of his arms stiffened. "But I'm alright," he choked out, his fingers fidgeting with the edges of the table. "I will be fine."

"God, Jeonghan," you sighed, covering your mouth with a hand.

Jeonghan looked at you as if he were enjoying your reaction. "Is my love life more complicated than yours now?"

"Well..." you sucked in a breath in pause. "Would you believe me if I told you that I don't think so? What are you going to do now, Han?"

"I don't know," he laughed. "Try and forget about her. Try to make amends with my friend. Move on. Keep myself busy with work."

Your heart crushed when Jeonghan's gaze dropped to his lap, he breathed in through his nose, chest swelling slowly and you instantly knew that your best friend was hurting inside.

"Oh, Hannie," you sighed again, feeling his pain, knowing what he was going through perfectly.

"I'm alright," he insisted, but his pointed finger was scratching at an invisible spot on the table now. "I'll be fine. They'll be fine. Someday I'll be at their wedding and this will all be a thing to fucking laugh at."

You heard the hollow tone in his voice, the way his gaze darkened when it got lost in the void at his lap.

Your heart sank.

You were well aware of how that felt like. For many nights you wondered about Seungcheol when you were far away. With a tight pain in your heart you wondered if he had moved on. You wondered if he had fallen in love with someone else.

You wondered if he loved you still.

"Hey," you whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It'll get better for you, Hannie. You'll be okay."

Jeonghan smiled, his knuckles still pushing his cheek in, making his smile twist. "I know," he muttered, meeting your hand with his own. "At least I have you back."

"And I have you," you smiled at him, and that made his gaze soften.

"Is it weird to be back with Seungcheol?" he asked, setting an elbow on the table to prop his head on his hand. "I mean, after all this time, you surely are not the same people. He's changed, and my guess is that you have changed too."

Jeonghan was right about that. Seungcheol had changed so much that sometimes you missed the spark you used to see in his eyes two years ago. The spark was there still, but it was rare to see now,

"It's weird, yeah. We are definitely not the same, and I think that the breakup made me more guarded, in a way. And as for Seungcheol..." you sighed, driving your gaze away from Jeonghan's face. "I think he is trying hard to get back to what he had before... but I don't know why I can't."

"Do you think that being away changed you?" he pouted slightly, his lower lip protruding out. "I mean, you two were very dependent on each other. And then you just weren't. That changes people."

You nodded in agreement. "It broke me to leave him behind," you whispered, taking your time to breathe in slowly to not break into tears. "You're right, I was really dependent on him, for years. And then I was single and in a totally different place. I had to relearn things about myself and I changed. I don't know if I can be the same as I was before."

"You don't have to," he shrugged, cocking his head further, still propped in one hand. "Seungcheol loves you. And yeah, he has changed a lot too, but I don't think that matters for you two."

"What do you mean?" you asked dumbly.

"I mean, you two are weird," he smiled shyly, showing his beautiful set of white teeth. "The kind that just clicks together, you know?"

"He wants me to move in with him," you blurted after some seconds of silence between you, only interrupted by the busy buzzing of the restaurant on a monday night.

"What do you want to do?" he asked with genuine curiosity, identifying that this was the thing troubling your mind the most.

"I don't know," you sighed. "I don't want to move too fast but. I like living alone, but I also want to be with him. I want to rebuild my life back with him but... I don't want to make a mistake again."

"Look," Jeonghan straightened up, setting his hands on the table again and leaned towards you looking at you straight in your eyes. "Fuck what anyone thinks, don't even listen to what I think if that's what you want. But, Seungcheol still loves you, even after all of the shit you put him through, he loves you. And wants to be with you. What more could you want?"

You remained silent, as you did not have any answers for that.

So he continued. "If I had an opportunity like that, I would take it. In a heartbeat."

"Jeonghan..." your chest deflated, but you instantly understood that this was painful to him, and he was dead serious about it.

"Sorry," he shook his head slightly and then smiled awkwardly at you. "Don't take my advice if you don't want to, again. I just think that you are thinking way too much about something that you want."

"Yeah, I might be," you sighed.

Jeonghan sighed, but you could see that he was gearing up to change the subject, leaning back on the seat to reach inside the pocket of his jeans, drawing out his wallet.

"Next time is on you," he nodded his head at you before calling for the bill.

"This is fancy," you giggled as you slided on the creamy colored seats of his BMW. "I like it."

"You know what," he huffed, tip of his tongue gliding between his lips. "I thought you would, when I bought it."

"You're lying," you gasped. "Really?"

"Yeah," he smiled. "I remembered you told me you liked this model. I got it a year ago."

"It's really nice," you smiled, looking around the leather seats. It smelled new.

Jeonghan winked at you, giving you a smile right before he ignited the engine, the soft purr of it making the features of your face change into awe.

"Nice," you repeated.

"Hehe."

He grabbed his vape pen from the cup holder, drawing a big gulp of smoke which he slowly exhaled from his nose.

"Oh, I see you quit alright," you chastised, enjoying the way a pang of guilt crossed his face, making him smile and chuckle goofily.

"Ah, but I did quit. For a time," he said as he turned the wheel, you noticed he quickly took the route to Seungcheol's, no questions asked. "But then you left, Cheol stopped speaking to me and it was either gambling or smoking. So I decided to quit gambling for good."

"That is a terrible excuse, Jeonghan," you giggled, negating with your head in disapproval. "But I'm glad you're not gambling anymore. I suppose that's progress."

"Yeah, but I run a gambling house, with your boyfriend," he tilted his head to one side, leaning his elbow on the middle console so he could rub the tips of his fingers on his chin. "Is he your ex, still? Or are you guys like, calling each other girlfriend and boyfriend again?"

"Huh," you huffed and tilted your head to. "I actually don't know. We haven't talked about it yet."

"Well, what do you two do, then?" he asked, shooting you a look and then quickly put: "No, no, you know what, don't answer that."

"What?" you blurted.

"I know you two only fucked once and decided to get back together, so don't even attempt to tell me that you aired out all of the shit you went through."

"We do talk, Jeonghan!" you squealed, trying to sound as outraged as you could. "We had a serious talk when we saw each other again."

The car came to a stop slowly before the red lights, which illuminated Jeonghan's face as he stared you down for a long second.

"Ok, we did fuck," you conceded after he narrowed his eyes at you. "But we also talked, Hannie."

"Oh, right," he giggled briefly. "So I'm taking you to your ex's place, then."

"Yeah, we're a mess," you nodded with a flat tone.

In the back of your mind, the memories of a healthy relationship floated in the vague background. Seungcheol and you just clicked, like Jeonghan said. Yes, you were codependent on each other, but at that time, neither of you cared.

It was a great relationship, with more highs than lows. More promises than deceptions. Seungcheol was your first love, and he was very much determined to be your last. And as soon as you saw how sure he was about you, you started to reciprocate. You missed that.

Now that you were changed, you wondered if you would handle everything differently. Because it was a very loving relationship. But the big fallacy was that he turned into your whole world.

Until the day that he was not.

"Hey," Jeonghan noticed your silent divagation, sending you looks in quick succession. "You'll work it out. Don't worry about it," he offered you a smile, pressing his lips together. "At least you didn't sleep with your best friend's girlfriend, right?"

"Jeonghan," you immediately gave him a look. "Self-deprecation is not your best look."

"Yeah, yeah," he dismissed with some hurt pride. "But you can't deny that it helps."

Seungcheol gave you a copy of his fob key, which you used right before stepping inside the elevator, where as soon as you were confined in its walls, started to think of the pleasant encounter with your former best friend.

You were sure that you could pick up your friendship with Jeonghan straight away, and now after being with him and catching up, you felt stupid for ever thinking that he would turn his back on you.

Thank you for today, Hannie. Felt nice to catch up. You wrote him before the elevator reached the second to last floor of the building with a soft ding.

You pay for next time! He replied as you walked out and into the hallway, making you smile at the phone screen when he added. Joking. But I also enjoyed it. Missed you.

You reached the door and stopped for a second to remember the passcode. Typing the numbers of your anniversary date felt somehow mind-splitting, much as if going back to the days when that date was the best day of every year for four years of your life.

"Babe?" you called as you crossed the door, catching some noise in the distance.

Seungcheol was walking down the hall as you peeked inside. "Hey, baby," he sighed with a pleased smile, bending down on his knees a little as he spread his arms wide.

You squealed briefly when he lifted you up from the floor, wrapping your body with his strong and beefy arms. "Hi there," you cooed, cupping his face with your hands.

"How did it go?" he asked, his eyes outlining the features of your face and then he showed you a broad smile. "Did you drink beer?"

"Oh, do I smell?" you tried to recoil, but Seungcheol leaned his face to press a kiss on your lips.

"Yeah," he giggled goofily, lowering your body back to the floor. But his hands quickly moved to grab your face. "Give me more of that," he muttered when you hummed against his kisses. "Kiss me."

"Let me go rinse first," you used your hands on his chest to push him, but unsurprisingly, he did not even budge.

"I don't care about that," you felt his lips stretch against yours in a smile. "Kiss me more."

"Seungcheol," you whined, but his hands were already helping his lips to bring you to submission. One hand gently placed beneath your chin and the other one circling to your lower back, pulling you closer to his warm body. "Mmn."

"How did it go?" he asked with a honeyed tone, pressing his lips repeatedly against yours capturing your lower lip between his, humming as he appeared to become more and more addicted to kissing you

"It was fine," you replied dryly, focused on getting more of his lips, his hands were sliding to your waist, fingers pinching the fabric of your pretty blouse to hike it up, so his hands could touch your skin now. "Cheol," you muttered between his lips.

"Yes," he replied, his hands gripping the sides of your waist, fingertips digging gently on your skin, using his grip to bring you close to him, his front pressed to your own.

"Can we–," a shaky sigh left your mouth when in a sudden move he bent down on his knees again, lifting your feet up and set you down on the nearest countertop of the kitchen.

"Yes, angel?" he egged you on, lifting his gaze to find your face, and he took a second to outline the features of your face with his starry eyes.

"Can we talk?" you muttered meekly, being eye to eye with him now you could return the gesture and trace the beautiful line of his cupid's bow with your eyes.

"Of course," he blinked, and in a second his entire demeanor switched to a more serious one. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," you sighed with a smile, biting your lower lip as you searched in your head for the right words to say.

Seungcheol pushed his thick eyebrows up. "Well, what do you want to talk about?"

You decided that there was no perfect way to speak your mind. Besides that, you trusted Seungcheol and you did not need to say things lightly with him.

"Did you date someone recently?" you asked, and wished your tone had sounded more certain. Instead, it sounded shaky, and tiny.

Seungcheol bristled initially, his eyes dimming and going over the features of your face swiftly. His lower lip trembled and you knew instantly that he was about to say something but stopped himself. He nodded. "Yes, I did. Three months ago," he choked out, but you knew he was being honest.

"I just wanted to know. You know, he haven't caught up with our lives recently," you explained and saw his features change and soften when he also noticed your tone quiver.

Your ex boyfriend leaned his head to one side, but did not deter his gaze from your face. "I didn't mention it because it was a brief thing. I didn't think that it would matter."

"You sure?" you mumbled, bringing up a hand to pinch his chin and his eyelids fluttered at your touch. "You know, I don't want us to jump into something if you still have some things to heal."

Seungcheol grabbed the hand that was still on his chin and pressed his lips on your fingers. "No, I know, baby. It just didn't work."

"Can I ask why?" you whispered, heart thumping wildly against your chest.

Seungcheol shrugged. "She wanted more," he closed his eyes for a second. "And I couldn't give it to her."

Your mouth parted but then you stopped yourself before you could prod more.

He noticed and decided to answer your unspoken question. "I just didn't feel it," he whispered. "I tried, but it wasn't honest. So I broke it off."

"Oh, Seungcheol," you breathed, heart deflating painfully and your eyes watered. "I'm sorry," you said solemnly.

"No, baby, this isn't your fault," he replied, his eyes had started to glisten slightly, but he kept them zeroed on your face. "I tried to move on from what you and I had, I healed and forgave you. This is different, the reason why it didn't work out with her has nothing to do with us."

"Really?" you asked but quickly put: "I just want to know that we're doing this right this time."

"We are, baby," he muttered warmly, head tilting to catch your gaze. "Is there something else you need to know?"

"No, I don't think so," you gathered your tears with the pads of your finger as you sniffled quietly. "I dated other people too. Didn't work either. I couldn't do it."

Seungcheol smiled, wrinkles appearing on the corners of his eyes. "Baby, you don't need to tell me any details, it's okay," he whispered, pressing his hands on your thighs, rubbing small circles to soothe you. "I assumed as much, and I'm glad that you did."

"Why?" you whispered.

"Because it tells me that you also tried to move on," he shrugged slightly, gulping hard and that told you that this was as difficult for him as it was for you. "Besides, you were in a different country, completely alone. I'm glad that you tried to seek company."

You nodded slowly, coming to terms with the fact that even though you and Seungcheol have changed, there was still something so strong pulling you together. It was not a love fueled by memories alone.

"Is there something you want to know?" you reverted the question back to him.

He shook his head briefly. "No, baby. Not right now," he paused and then, "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you pressed your lips in a small smile. "I'm just feeling a little emotional, that's all," you whispered.

"Did Jeonghan say something?" he asked, but the light frown on his face told you that he thought this to be highly unlikely.

You shook your head no. "Wonwoo told me," you sniffled and tried to hide a guilty smile. "I might've prodded a little bit more and found out something I wasn't ready to hear," you confessed, batting a shameful look at him.

Seungcheol leaned his head to the side even further. "Baby," he started in a reproachful manner. "Why didn't you just ask me?"

"There are some things I'm scared to ask you," you replied meekly.

"Is my dating life something you were scared to know more of?" he pushed his eyebrows, his lips pouting: "Why?"

"It may sound silly to you, but it feels weird to know that you were with someone else not long ago," you shrugged.

"It doesn't," he corrected, straightening up slightly, but his hands were planted still at the sides of your thighs, on the kitchen countertop. "If the tables were flipped, I too would feel something," he said with full certainty. "That's why I'm not asking about your past partners. I don't want to know more. I'm content with knowing that you weren't completely alone."

"I wasn't," you whispered, gaze losing focus over his shoulder, in your mind you recalled the times you felt utterly alone and lost. "Sometimes I felt like I was, but I made some friendships. Short-lived."

"I'm sorry," he whispered too, calling your eyes to his.

"Don't worry about it," you blurted, lip quivering uncontrollably when in a flashing thought, the weight of your guilt and regret crashed down on you.

"Come on, let's get to bed, okay?" he muttered softly, grabbing your hands after you nodded at him. "Here," he helped you down from the counter and kept one of your hands in his own as you made your way to his bedroom.

A somber feeling had fallen between you and Seungcheol. You did not need to ask, you knew that his mind was reeling, you knew that being deep in thought also meant that he had started to plan ahead.

So you waited. In silence, you changed into pyjamas, and did your bedtime routine as normal, keeping an eye on him randomly, trying not to make it obvious that you were aware that he was overthinking.

But maybe, you thought, he knew that too.

When you slid beneath the bed-sheets, he had already made it to his side of the bed, sheets and covers up to his waist, chest exposed and bare.

Immediately, as you laid your body down on the mattress, he outstretched an arm sliding it under you and curled it, so he was now wrapping you into a side hug, egging you to rest your head on his chest.

"You're okay, babe?" you asked timidly, eyeing him up and down to get anything that might tell you about his mood.

"I'm just thinking," Seungcheol replied gently.

"Oh," you paused. "What about?"

"About us," he sighed and took a hand to run his fingers through his blond hair. "I want to put your mind at ease. I don't want this to overwhelm you."

You lifted your head from his chest to look at his face fully. Seungcheol sent you a glance, waiting for your answer.

"I–," gulping hard, you stammered: "I j-just, this is happening fast but I want this, Cheol."

However, your response seemed to do the contrary for him. He looked conflicted for a split second, his frown deepening slightly, making a couple of lines show between his eyebrows. But then, he lifted one hand and pinched your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, making his gaze soften.

"Is there something else you're thinking?" you whispered, knowing that look on his face.

Seungcheol never spoke his deeper thoughts unless prompted. He was a man that kept his emotions safe, only voicing them out when the moment was appropriate.

He removed his fingers from your chin to push your hair and tucked it on one of your ears, the pressure of his fingers on the crook behind your ear making your skin tingle.

"Sometimes I wished that you found someone," he mumbled with a sleepy sigh. "Even if it hurt me to think that I'd never see you again, I never wanted you to be lonely."

Your heart contracted so painfully that you instinctively had to blink your pain away. "I wished that for you too," you replied through a shaky sob. "I wished for someone to treat you well, to love you."

"I had that, baby," he whispered, seemingly unable to speak any louder. "Probably not with a partner, but I kept close to my family."

"Did you ever try to find someone?" you prodded with more confidence now, but you still held your breath.

"No," he breathed, blinking pausedly. "I wanted to heal, to focus on my goals, so I put a pause on that."

You nodded slowly, but you could not yank your gaze from his big and dark eyes.

"You?" he asked after a few seconds.

"Yeah, I did," you replied with a shrinking feeling in your heart, making your voice sound tiny.

Seungcheol only stared at you for a long second, and you could almost hear the gears of his brain turning. You prepared for him to ask more, you thought of all the possible questions, and all the possible answers, lies and truths that you could give him.

After all, you did not want him to know how much you actually hurt while you were away. Even if you were buried with school work, there was an unbearable ache gripping your heart tightly every day, for months.

You tried everything to yank him out of your life like a thorn in your chest. From burying yourself with school-work, to partying every weekend, to seeking comfort in other partners.

"And did... you meet someone?" he finally asked, his tone sounded steady, but his rapid breathing betrayed him.

"I–," you choked out, clearing your voice you tried again: "I didn't," you replied with honesty. "They were all good people but I was the one that didn't make it work. After some time, I stopped dating."

The truth was, you were hurting. And you took that hurt everywhere you went, and sadly, you turned into something you never thought you would become and started hurting people.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, shifting his face on his pillow, as if nuzzling it slightly to remove the discomfort you knew he felt inside. Because you felt it too.

"Me too," you pressed your lips in a smile. "I was dumb, burdened with pain and guilt. I know that now."

"We both did things in the past," he said with some languor from his long day. "What matters is what we do from now on, right?"

"Right," you nodded once.

"I want to do right by you," he said, mustering some energy to look straight into your eyes. "I want us to grow together."

"That sounds good, Seungcheol," you whispered, tone quivering slightly. "I want that too."

"Are you sure?" he uttered, sounding so small that your heart faltered painfully. "

"I'm sure," you decided. "This is just a little hard for me," you confessed, ignoring the wild vibration in your chest.

"I know," he blinked slowly, his tone soft and breathy as he took in a deep breath, saying: "You have been hiding inside a shell for two years. I get it because I feel it too."

"I'm scared, Seungcheol," you conceded, and he nodded with his head.

"I'm scared too," he whispered. "But I want to help you, I want to be with you. I'm all in for you."

With a sigh, you closed the space between you on the bed, and Seungcheol was already wrapping you with both of his arms.

"We could take this step by step," he whispered after a long second of silence. The tips of his fingers had begun to trace shapeless lines on your arm. "Whatever you want to do, if you want to go fast or slow, I can do it. Just say the word, and I'm in."

"I just want to be with you right now. I don't want to think," you replied with a whisper, realizing that it had been some days since your last dive into searching for an apartment, or a room where you could move your stuff into.

You have grown comfortable with this for the past few days. Even though there was an anxiety about living with Seungcheol after everything that went down with you. You realized that you wanted more nights like this, sleeping soundly in his arms.

"I know, baby. But at some point, we need to come to a solution. I can wait but I also want reassurance."

You shifted once again to take a look at his face, beneath all the tiredness and conflict, he looked sincere.

"I'll give you time, baby."

You gave him a small smile. "Thank you, babe."

Maybe Jeonghan was right. Your thoughts were getting in your way.

"Move aside," you whined holding a heavy tray loaded with clean jars.

"Na-ah, you know the conditions," Jeon Wonwoo shook his head slowly, crossing his arms on his chest.

"Fuck your conditions, Wonwoo. This is heavy!" you squealed dramatically.

"I've seen you carry twice the weight of that," he pointed a finger to the tray in your arms.

"Ah, it's slipping off, come on!" you gasped, your arms about to give out.

"Tsk, you–," Wonwoo chuckled briefly but came to your aid quickly, grabbing the tray from your arms before you dropped it to the ground.

"You know what," Seungcheol announced, breaking the stare down contest between you and Wonwoo. "I'll handle the bar, since you two can't seem to stop fighting."

You turned on your feet to find Seungcheol going under the bartop, his hair ruffling slightly before he pushed it back with a large hand. "You'll have the tables tonight, okay?" he told Wonwoo.

"Me?" the recused arched his eyebrows, a finger pointing at his chest.

"Yes, you, Jeon Wonwoo," he snapped, nodding his head once sharply at the tables. "And you, stop distracting him."

"S-sorry boss," you stammered awkwardly, raising your eyes to find his big dark ones. You knew that the scolding was not as heavy handed just by the way that he sounded, he tried to mask a smirk by running the tip of his tongue on his upper teeth.

"Go," he ordered impatiently. "We'll open when you're ready," Seungcheol informed him as he passed by.

"You didn't have to be an asshole," you whispered, eyes raised to find his.

"Why not, it's fun to be the asshole the guys paint me as sometimes," he shrugged, now smiling deviously as he lowered his gaze to your body. "Besides, you can't blame me for wanting to be beside you."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Y-you did that just so you could be close to me?" you shook your head swiftly, snapping into realization. "Really?"

"Like I said," he took a step back, squaring his shoulders when he noticed Wonwoo glancing towards you and Seungcheol. "It'll be fun," he mumbled, trying to be subtle but you did not miss the way that one of the corners of his mouth curved up slightly.

"Right," you muttered, feeling flustered already.

Working with Seungcheol must be difficult, you imagined that it must be difficult to stay away or to not look his way every time he passes by. He is incredibly attractive, every movement he performed was eye-catching.

Now, him being your ex only added to this level of frustration that you felt already.

Seungcheol smirked at you after you huffed loudly.

He had been teasing you at every chance he could get. Every time he passed behind you, his hand somehow found your ass, patting it slightly—or hard. Depending on the given chance.

He also sent you suggestive glances, when he had the chance to and knowing no one was looking his way, he would lean back against the countertop and check you out, crossing his arms and tilting his head to one side.

"Boss," you hissed, eyes flaring at him alarmingly. "Behave."

Seungcheol chuckled, the sound of his laughter traveling across the bar, drawing some curious eyes to him.

"Okay, okay," he muttered and turned to take one of the orders that the printer had just sent.

Seungcheol had decided to wear some tight black denim jeans that hugged his ass just right. And every time he walked off, you just had to sneak a discrete look.

That gave you some pause. At that moment, you concocted a small plan to retaliate. If he thought that he could tease you all he wanted in the workspace, then you could too.

So firing back, you took every single opportunity you had to brush shoulders with him, sparking his curiosity at first. He just arched one eyebrow at you, but did not catch your intentions to draw his attention to you.

That was, until you started to do some more suggestive things, such as shooting looks at him, placing a hand on his back every time you had to reach for something from his side of the bar. Sometimes you would let your hand fall languidly, bumping with his ass.

"Stop it now," he whispered the third time you did this.

"Stop what, boss?" you inquired, batting your eyelashes at him.

"Whatever it is you think you're doing," he huffed, but a smile appeared on his lips.

"I'm not doing anything," you replied, making him frown slightly at you.

"Right," he cocked his head sideways.

"Maybe you're imagining things, baby," you mumbled, smiling sweetly at him before leaning against the countertop of the bar, nearly bending over completely.

A sly smirk appeared on his face, crossing his arms once again to lean against the countertop to check you out freely and for a second you thought he was being way too obvious.

But no, it appeared that you were in your own world. Everyone else kept busy with their tasks, and the guests did not even pay a second look towards Seungcheol or you this time.

This was fun, you decided.

". . . and that, according to him, is a Freudian slip, but I think he is just making things up," you rambled aimlessly for minutes, now fully aware that Seungcheol was not completely in the conversation anymore, no matter how much you tried to drive his attention back to what you were talking about before.

"Mm-mmph," he nodded, pushing his eyebrows up ever so slightly. "Right."

"Boss?" you called with some caution, but a small smile curved your lips. "Focus."

You leaned back against the countertop, facing him as he enclosed the space between you in a disclosed manner, your thigh brushing his.

"You started this," he said, gripping the edge of the countertop with both hands, he ran his tongue on his front teeth, eyes set on the rest of the establishment behind you.

"Started what?" you crossed your arms by your tummy, hands on your elbows.

"The teasing, the name calling, I can go on and on," he replied with a tight jaw, still not looking at you.

"Please do," you challenged with a confident smirk. "To me it sounds like I didn't do much."

"Oh no, yeah, you're still doing it," one eyebrow cocked up and now his eyes zeroed on your face. "Bending over the counter, wearing those fucking shorts," he let out a huff and clicked his tongue.

"I didn't start anything, you did," you shrugged, a smile on your face, seeing how conflicted Seungcheol was.

"Mmn," he hummed in faux contempt, nodding his blond head slowly and finished pushing the tip of his tongue on the inside of his cheek with a smacking sound.

And then, with the stealth that you have known him to own, he fished out for one of your hands, guiding it to his crotch. Your eyes shot up, but you attempted to make absolutely no move. Limbs froze, all except the hand on the hardened bulge beneath his black denim jeans.

Seungcheol, it seemed, had frozen too after releasing his grip on your hand, knowing full well that you would take your chance and palm his growing erection over the fabric of his clothes.

His eyebrow jumped up slightly when your fingers found the outline of his cock, making an up and down motion, losing some discretion.

It had been a while since you had done something so daring as groping in public, and something told you that this was the case for Seungcheol too. His chest had begun to rise and fall agitatedly, eyes set on the surroundings in caution.

"Fuck it," he breathed, dropping his hands from the edge of the countertop, stepping back from it, and from you. Your hand fell off his crotch, and your gaze flew to find his flustered face. Seungcheol ruffled his blond hair with one hand, eyebrows pushed up. "See me in the storeroom," he muttered as he walked off from you.

You knew you were in trouble.

"Cover me?" you asked Wonwoo who was passing through the emptied tables and found you frozen behind the bartop.

"Sure," he nodded, a frown appearing on his face. "Everything alright?" he asked as he went around the bar and stood beside you swiftly.

"Yeah, I gotta–," you cut yourself off when you could not think of a good enough excuse. "I'll be back in five!"

Wonwoo pressed his lips in a line, looking bewildered. "Suuure."

You dashed through the backdoor, pushing it open with a force you were not sure where it came from. But you were certain that the exhilaration coursing through you made you stupid enough to stop considering that you were at your workspace.

But yet again, it seemed that Seungcheol did not care either.

As soon as you started turning the doorknob, it was yanked from the inside, a hand grabbing your wrist and thrusting you against his body. In one swift move, Seungcheol had closed the door behind you and pushed you back against it.

"What're you–," you were quickly shut with a hard kiss on your lips, that soon turned heated, desperate.

"We'll have to do this quick," he hissed against your lips, and just when you were about to ask, you felt his fingers searching the hem of your shorts, finding the button to undo it with a hard tug. "Turn around."

Facing the door now, your fingers hooked on the waistband of your shorts and panties, pushing them down for him to finish moving them down just below your ass.

"Good girl," Seungcheol whispered and you heard the metal clinking of his belt, the sound letting you know his following movements. So you instantly arched your back, angling yourself for him and planting your hands flat on the door in front of you for support.

"Seungcheol," your fingertips tried digging into the hard wood when you felt a hand on your hip, pad of his thumb pressing on the soft skin of your glute. "Hurry."

"Shh," he giggled quietly, and you turned your head to look over your shoulder at him.

Seungcheol noticed your eyes on him, and held your gaze for a second before grabbing his throbbing cock in one hand, first around the bulbous, dripping in precum cockhead, pointer finger lifted up to search for your wet folds so he could guide his cock right inside you.

You pressed your forehead against the door, squeezing your eyes shut. "Fuck, daddy," you whined softly, ever so quietly you think for a second he wouldn't hear it over the loud music out in the bar. "Fuck, fuck," you grit your teeth when he started to ease himself inside you, the girth of his cock stretching your wet walls open, making you stifle a sigh at the delicious bite.

"God, baby, you take it so well," he praised in your ear, dragging his cock out, and then pushing in slowly at first. "So good for me."

You let out a puffy breath as his other hand encircled your waist right before he retracted his hips, and then pushed them with fast thrusts. The pace was now calculated, and fast, nearly brutal, you knew you had to make this good for him.

"Quiet," he rasped when you sighed a moan out, fingertips raking on the door in front of you now, trying to apply as much pressure to avoid bumping your head against it.

"It feels good," you replied with a whiny tone.

"Do you want me to make you come?" he asked and sighed a smile when you nodded with your head yes in frantic movements. "Arch your back for me, baby."

You instantly bent forward, angling your ass for him, his hand moved to the small of your back, applying pressure and gripping your hip with his other hand before he started plowing on you.

"Fuck," you gritted out, squeezing your eyes shut so hard you saw stars and colors. "Daddy, don't stop, please," you whined when his cock reached a very sensitive spot deep inside you with his hard and fast thrusts.

"That's it, baby," he sighed and let out a tiny groan. "Do you want me to pull out?"

His hand slid from your lower back, pushing your tank top up your back but stopped instantly when you shook your head no.

"I want you to come first," he whispered but with some urgency. The sound of him swallowing a raspy moan sent a frenzied shudder down your spine. "Come for me, baby."

One of your hands travelled down between your legs, finding your throbbing clit with your fingertips and immediately started rubbing fast swirls around it, crying out helplessly as pleasure bloomed from your pussy to your limbs.

"Good fucking girl," he growled when you succumbed to your fast orgasm. "F-fuck," he forced out using his hands on your hips to fuck you into him, sliding your throbbing walls on his cock slowly as he came with you.

He pushed his front flush against your ass with a long exhale. "Fuck," he groaned. "Don't move, baby. I'm pulling out."

You shuddered hard when you felt him slip out of you and your hand immediately slid between your legs to cup the warm cum dripping out of you.

"Here," he said, offering you a paper towel. "I should go out before the boys find us like this."

"Yeah," you laughed shamefully.

His eyes read your face swiftly. "Why are you laughing?"

"It would be funny," you muttered offhandedly, cleaning your hand.

"No. I'd never live that off with those two," he tilted his head to one side. "Besides, I thought you didn't want them to know."

"I'll take care of this in the washroom," you cocked your head to the door. "Go, boss."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't make it obvious, then," he smirked but left the storeroom shortly after when you were fixing your clothes.

After cleaning yourself up in the washroom, you were returning to the boys already closing up the place. Your heart sank, but as you crossed the space, Seungcheol sent you a quiet glance from the booth where he usually accounted for the day's profit.

"You took long enough," Wonwoo chastised but then gave you an inquisitive look. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you sighed, placing your hands on your hips to show some certainty. "Sorry. Thank you for covering me though."

"I'm almost finished with this side," he said without studying your flushed face. "Just close up the tables with Mings, yeah?"

"Okay," you nodded, turning away from his gaze but swearing you could still feel it in the back of your head as you walked up to the tables to clean them up and put the chairs up.

Mingyu kept a speedy gait around you, seemingly focused on finishing the shift as soon as possible. He did not even hum to a tune as he regularly did, but you saw it in his face, he was in a good mood.

"You're alright there?" you asked, watching him move through the place like a man on a mission.

"Got a date," he muttered, and then shook his head when you pushed your eyebrows up in question. "It's not romantic—she's a friend."

"She?" you pushed, grinning. "A friend, huh?"

"And waiting for me," Mingyu nodded. "Come on, let's go early tonight, yeah?"

"O-okay," you giggled teasingly, lifting one chair up and putting it on the recently cleaned table, then you put the rest of the chairs up and moved to the next table to clean its surface.

"Let me," a low voice came from behind you when you bent down to grab one chair.

You sucked in a breath, and turned to see Seungcheol, whose face lit up in the tiniest of smiles that reached his eyes.

"I should stop doing that," he whispered at you, referring to surprising you often.

"Yeah, or maybe I should be more aware of my surroundings," you muttered, looking at his big dark eyes.

"Maybe," his smile grew, wrinkling the outer corners of his eyes. He grabbed one chair and put it up. "I got these, move to the next table."

"You got it, boss," you smiled at him cheekily.

A sharp, loud gasp came from behind the countertop, paired with a hard slam of Wonwoo's hand down on it.

You turned to see the man, standing aghast with his mouth hanging open.

"Hyung?" Mingyu asked with a worried tone.

The three of you looked at him, and it suddenly dawned on you: he had been watching your interaction with Seungcheol from the moment they exchanged tasks in the bar. And you had been too stupid to ignore his inquisitive eyes.

"You're her," he blurted out with a start then blinked, as if snapping himself to reality. "You're–,"

"Wonwoo–," Seungcheol warned immediately.

"No, it's okay," you interjected, from the look on his face, you knew that there was no way you could lie yourself out of this. He had found you out. "You're right."

His mouth fell open again, bringing a hand to cover his mouth.

"I'm so incredibly lost," Mingyu huffed, scratching the crown of his head, tilting it sideways. "What's happening?"

Neither Wonwoo or Seungcheol spoke, but you noticed the way they both exchanged a look. And that was something you could not deny, was that the three men had developed a partnership—a friendship so strong that they simply trusted one another.

"I'm his ex," you explained after some quick thinking, deciding that there was no better way to say it.

"Whose ex?" Mingyu exclaimed, looking at Seungcheol, then at Wonwoo.

"We didn't say anything because it was my decision to keep it private but," you shrugged then looked at Wonwoo, whose shocked expression had not left his face. "You found out before."

"What?" Mingyu asked, voice rising even higher and blinked. "You're boss's ex?! The ex?"

Seungcheol brought a hand to his own face with a smack. "Mingyu, please–,"

"Yes, that ex," you rolled your eyes awkwardly.

"Wow," Mingyu huffed, turning to his housemate. "How?"

"The questions, boss's mood swings, and now," Wonwoo pointed, shooting a knowing look at you both.

You pressed your lips in a hard line. "Yeah, I might've been a bit too obvious," you turned to Seungcheol, asking for some help in the situation.

"Guys, I know that this topic of conversation has been... quite the fuss in here, so let me just put you both on the same page," he exchanged one glance with you, and proceeded after you nodded your head. "We were in a relationship before, some years ago. And I'm no stranger to the speculation, but no, there is no resentment between us."

"Because you got back together," Mingyu read the situation as fast as his housemate. "That's why you've been happy lately, boss."

Seungcheol grew quiet, it seemed that he had not expected to be told that. But after some seconds passed, you were about to intervene when he nodded. "Yes. We got back together," he said firmly.

"This is the friend you were referring to?" Wonwoo exclaimed with a hollow laugh. "That's not a friend, that's–,"

"Wonwoo!" you exclaimed, feeling partly elated that Wonwoo shifted from his initial shock and was teasing you in a friendly way.

"What are you talking about?" Seungcheol asked.

"Nothing," Wonwoo pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, but the cheeky smile on his lips told you he knew the answer already.

"Mmph," Mingyu huffed once again, bobbing his head once and then turned to resume working. "Who would've thought?"

"Small world," Wonwoo conceded, palming the countertop gently now. "You were bad at hiding it. Both of you."

"What, no we weren't," Seungcheol countered but you knew that it was a lost cause.

"You were both in the back just now–," Mingyu realized and his mouth too, fell open with a very dramatic gasp: "On the clock, boss?! You two have no decorum!"

"Mingyu!" you squealed but he just chuckled, shaking his head in reproach but continued working nonetheless.

"And here I thought you were kinda haughty, newbs," Mingyu laughed harder at your aghast expression. "Tut, tut, tut, naughty-naughty, both of you."

"Mings, cut it off," Wonwoo advised, shooting a look at Seungcheol.

The tips of his ears were read, but that did not distract you from the hard and cold look he was giving to Mingyu. "Yah," he started, sizing him up.

"Hehe," Mingyu chuckled and then he turned to you. "Ah, so that is how you knew Jeonghan-hyung."

"He's my friend too," you nodded, staring at Wonwoo as you too, decided to keep cleaning up the tables.

"Oh, I see," Mingyu said knowingly. "Huh. Small world," he reaffirmed as well.

The ride back home was full of glances between you and Seungcheol, you could tell he was happy, keeping his hand parked on your thigh as the other gripped the steering wheel.

Your own hand was on his nape, fingers twisting in his blond hair affectionately. You remembered the times you did this routinely, so much so that it became something you did almost absentmindedly.

As you came back home, Seungcheol grabbed you by the hand, yanking you towards him and grabbing you by the chin to plant a chaste kiss on your lips.

"Come here," he whispered, keeping his hand on your chin as he kissed you heatedly. The other hand finding the button of your shorts, undressing you as you both made your way to the shower.

In the shower, you were completely enthralled by the love in his starry eyes, he kept kissing you, nearly not letting you wash for two seconds without having a kiss either on your cheeks, forehead or anywhere he could reach.

"I'll be right there," he muttered with a pleased look on his face when you stepped out of the shower.

After putting up your sleepwear, you decided to go look for something to eat, only to find nothing but a fridge nearly vacant to the exception of some cans of beer.

So. You've been found out. Jeonghan's text message read on your screen. You smiled in shame, but decided to reply to him the following morning when you heard Seungcheol's steps approaching from the hallway.

"Fridge is empty," you reported with a croaky tone from the tiredness consuming your body slowly.

"Do you want to go get something at the mini-mart?" Seungcheol asked as he walked to the open kitchen and up to you, encircling you with his arms, snuggling you close to his body.

You knew Seungcheol was not the greatest cook, and the memory of the times when he tried to cook for you had you smiling fondly at him for a second.

"Yeah, I don't really get groceries anymore," he shrugged slightly, thinking your smile was an accusatory one. "Rather order something or eat in a restaurant. Or in the bar."

"Mmmn," you drew in a breath, mustering up some courage as you spoke out your decision: "Well, if I'm going to live here with you, we gotta fix that, babe," you muttered softly, drawing his big, dark eyes to you. "We could go buy some groceries tomorrow morning."

Seungcheol pushed his eyebrows up, reading your face with his big eyes. "So you've made up your mind about this?" he inquired, his tone low and you could see how nerve inducing the topic of conversation was to him.

You nodded silently, biting your smile and grabbing with your hands his forearms that were parked on your tummy. "I think I'm going to give up the apartment search.," you whispered. "Is the offer of moving in with you still up?"

He blinked twice, as if he were jolting awake to reality. "Of course, love," he nodded, emitting a sigh through his parted red lips. "There's nothing I want more."

"Oh, yeah?" you replied. "Nothing else?"

"Well, there might be one other thing," he shrugged ever so slightly, small dimples showing on his cheeks when he showed you a joyful smile. "I don't want to be your ex anymore."

"Well, you just gotta fix that, don't you?" you grinned, looking up and down from his eyes to his smiling lips.

"Be my girlfriend," he muttered, using his fingers under your jaw to join his lips with yours. "Please."

"I'd be more than happy to," you whispered, finally giving yourself in, letting go of your fears.

✧ author's note: i want to apologize for making you wait for so looooong, i took my time and i am sorry

but thank you for everyone who waited for the update! and the ones who came to my askbox to ask about this fic, thank you for keeping it alive! 🩵

this fic is close to my heart, i literally poured my heart in chapter 3, writing about stuff that hit close to home i think that induced me into a writing slump because i couldn't find my way out and write? idk haha

✧ note 2: this is not proofread i'm sorry

✧ READ THE DRABBLE AND STAY TUNED FOR CHAPTER 5 ✧ JOIN MY TAGLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTERS | BUY ME A COFFEE? (●'◡'●)

© TO HANNIEWEEN — I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[chxrryhansen]

hi baby! wasn’t sure if you did headcannons, but i have one if you do!

clubbing with rafe? sfw and nsfw!

thank u sweetie! — 💞

hi sweetheart! i have no idea how to write headcanons so this is my first attempt🫶🏻 ive also never written sfw or fluff so here we go!

sfw: in my head rafe is the type to never leave your side no matter what, oh you need to pee? he’s there watching you do it so no creeps follow you into the bathroom. you need to throw up? hes outside holding your hair while you puke into a bush.

he never NEVER. lets you pay for your own drinks, your his baby and he takes care of you and buys you everything you want bc thats what daddys like him do😌 and his hand is always covering the top of your drink (hes obviously holding it while you dance, duh)

if you don’t feel like bringing a purse/bag that night he definitely fills his pockets with all your shit, your lip gloss, keys, phone. anything you want, he’s got it.

if you start getting a little too drunk he’s there at your side, holding you upright as you stumble giggling at how uncoordinated you are. “cmon pretty girl, time to go.” or “i think you’ve had enough to drink now, sweetheart.”

when you get home he takes you into the bathroom, brushing your teeth for you as you sit on the toilet seat with your eyes closed. he changes your clothes and takes off your pretty dress, pulling you into a pair of his shorts and one of his shirts, he makes sure to tuck you in and wipe your makeup off with a cloth before applying your skincare and he fetches a glass of water upstairs for you alongside some paracetamol (or aspirin) to make sure you don’t wake up with a killer headache

nsfw: rafe wouldn’t dream of letting you dance alone, even if it means hes standing there like a brick wall, barely even moving his hips while you grind your ass up against him, rubbing on his bulge.

hes soooo protective so he definitely makes sure to stare down every guy in the club with his hand wrapped around your waist, just so they know your his. alongside marking up your neck with love bites before you leave the house, blotches of purple/red marks layered on your skin.

when your teasing grinding gets too much for him hes so quick to pull you into the bathroom, fucking you in one of the stalls. your hands pressed up against the wall, one thick hand around your waist and the other gripping your hair, his hips slamming into your ass from behind.

“dirty fuckin’ girl, letting daddy fuck you right here in public, such a naughty slut.”

“your just so needy and desperate for daddys cock you couldn’t even wait until we got home, huh?”

knowing FINE WELL he was the one who couldn’t wait, your pretty little body driving him crazy. he def gets off on the stares you both get as you leave the bathroom, your hair messy and your makeup running down your cheeks from crying so hard on his cock. a smirk plastered across his face with one hand on your shoulder. the glares from envious men (and women) not slowing his speed one bit as he struts across the crowded club.

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 3 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: a quick look through concerning the early months of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly centered around moments on the couch

warnings (TW): mdni, contains mature/suggestive content, swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use

tags: mature/suggestive content (in act iii), fluff, early relationship described, pining, affection

notes: please note that there is heavily implied/suggestive/mature content in act iii of this posting (after the second break)- if you do not wish to interact with this type of content i swear to you you can completely skip it if you like, i attempt to not tie TOO much significance to the written scene- and if you would prefer that the postings stray away from this kind of content i will attempt to better balance it in the future! i am in no shape or form a very “smutty” writer (mainly bc i have never written it), so i hope the scene isnt like… terrible ya know lol (also i don’t consider it much for “smut”- i am def using said word very loosly). annnnyyywayyys hope you enjoy and as always my dms are open for suggestions in the future and general conversation and encouragement! enjoy!

also to note! I believe the story is best read in order- i put certain dependences on certain words and bring descriptions back to really solidify the importance of certain scenes/interactions ! but completely up to you, lol

edit 8/27/24: hello! below i have linked the up to date masterlist for this series- thank you for reading, hope you enjoy!

word count: 4.5k

| masterlist | part iv |

She had caught him sleeping on the couch in the early heat of June. 

They had a late night on the couch, discussing Ford’s margin notes and rewatching The Price is Wrong. Stan had a certain affinity for price matching, and she was more than a little stunned to learn of it the first couple of months they resided in the shack together. 

She just didn’t expect this 30-year-old man to know the price of most common household appliances. 

After his divulgence last month, in which he had confided a little bit of his background in sales, she began to piece together that although Stan considered himself a conman in every way but words, she considered it pure brilliance. 

So she quickly got used to late-night T.V. shows, as they discussed next steps back and forth, with Stan interrupting conversations to yell out extremely accurate prices at the small box T.V. in front of the couch. It had grown on her, actually, and had turned rather… endearing. 

If not also incredibly hilarious, as he was so passionate about his own accuracy he usually forgot his volume, and sometimes took to ranting at her. 

“Hun! Hun! This is a load of malarkey I tell ya! That vacuum price is way too high! It don’t even come with added nozzle attachments!” 

She would laugh, and he would revel in making her do so. 

They had concluded the night in a similar fashion, and she had stumbled up to her bedroom. The first one on the right from the stairs. But he had lingered in the living room, muttering about tidying up some soda cans and taking the trash out quickly. 

She had shrugged it off, giving her goodnight, and made her way up the stairs. She had fallen asleep so quickly, she hadn’t heard the usual meandering steps of Stan as he made for his own room across the hall from her. 

She almost never woke up before him, another thing that surprised her. She figured he was the type to doze in and out in the early morning, but he seemed to be quick to rise and even quicker to make a pot of coffee, usually stumbling down the stairs thirty minutes before she could manage to roll out of bed. 

So she thought it odd to look down the stairs and not see the usual kitchen light on, and the usual grumble of the shitty coffee machine either. 

She found him snoring on his back, the throw blanket she had brought with her half on half off him. It had grown a little muggy in the shack, due to the distinct lack of central air, but Stan’s solution seemed to be very simple. 

Just wear less clothes. 

Something that wouldn’t disturb her in the slightest, if it were not for, well… Stan. 

She was a scientist, a usual logical thinker, and only slightly prude (due to her upbringing), but she was no idiot, and she knew the man she was cohabitating with was attractive. 

I mean, he was also funny- made her laugh more times than she could count. He was oddly sincere for his age and even more oddly protective. He was flippantly affectionate and even more flippantly kind to her. 

And he was also shirtless. 

Something she takes note of instantly, instinctually. Whipping her head to make for the kitchen, and trying to forget the curve of his broad shoulders and the slight swell of his stomach. The smattering of dark hair on his chest all the way down to the crisp edge of the boxers she had folded two days ago. 

Coffee, coffee coffee! 

She didn’t make as good of a cup as he did, she had never had to before. Something he scoffed at, but quickly took to doing himself. He made it every morning, now. Always up before her, with her mug waiting for her by her worn kitchen chair. 

She turned to the stove instead, moving pans and turning on the burner. She’d make breakfast for them instead of her shitty burnt coffee special. Pulling eggs and bacon out of the small fridge she went to work. 

The smell woke him up, and she noted his groggy fumbling to redress himself. Glancing out the archway from kitchen to living room she watched him pass to the stairs, still shirtless. He takes the stairs two at a time, back up to his room to retrieve new clothes she presumed. 

He returns in minutes, in typical fashion it took him not too long to get ready in the morning. 

He walks in, still stretching, with hair muddled from sleep. A pair of work jeans that had seen a lot of love in the past month, and a shirt that was quickly growing too tight around his arms and shoulders. She decided to ignore that sliver of stomach that peaked out when he raised his arms a little too high, otherwise, the bacon would burn. 

He made his way to the coffee machine, beginning the usual morning routine as it spurred to life. Moving to the sink he began washing their shared mugs. 

Breakfast was always a little quiet like they both couldn’t be bothered to open their mouths beyond sating their appetite. They still moved the same, instinctually and without words. Falling into their unassigned assigned seats, Stan moving to grab her feet and drag them across his lap, while she moved the salt and pepper between them both. She always reached across to his plate, grabbing his toast to butter first and then moving to her own. 

She had decided to interrupt their usual silence this morning, looking across to Stan as he fumbled with the morning paper. He always went straight to the comics in the morning, hoping to pick up on a joke to read to her that day, hoping to make her laugh first before anything else in the morning. 

But she had thrown a wrench in his usual plan (that she still hadn’t picked up on yet). 

“Why were you on the couch?” She asked, biting around her toast. 

“It’s cooler down here hun.” 

“I know heat rises Stan, but the sun rises on my side of the house in the morning. It ain’t that hot upstairs yet. Is there something wrong with your bed?” 

When first rearranging rooms he had resolved to take Stanford's old one. He didn’t want her to have to live in the shell his brother had left behind. His more intimate nick-nacks and sticky notes had been scattered around what is now Stan’s room. Along with his random mismatched socks and sweater vests, and his cologne. And he didn’t want to think about having her live around the last remnants of Stanford, because she got this weird look in her eyes already when she retraced his brother's writings and he couldn’t stand it. He had lived with Stanford for eighteen years, and sometimes entering the room was at least therapeutic. 

Except Stanford always had a weird affinity for sleeping on the ground. 

It’s the main reason Stanley even had the top bunk during their preteen years to begin with, because Stanford would find himself stiff on the floor most mornings. His brother had a tendency to doze away on any hard surface he could rest his head on, starting at his desk most nights, moving to his bed, but usually rolling off it in favor of the floor. Stanford was… not one for restful sleep. And his hard ass mattress showed it. 

“Ya.” Stan muttered behind the newspaper. “‘Ford trying to fuck my back up from another dimension.” 

“You can have my bed?” She offered up her own mattress, one she had splurged on with her own money. He still remembers her playing Goldilocks that day at the flash mattress sale she had circled in the classifieds the week before. 

He shook his head at the memory, them both laying side by side on each bed as she had discussed odds and ends. She had argued that she needed approximately 5 minutes on each mattress to sink into each, and that she couldn’t be intrinsically thinking about her comfort when doing so. So she had him lay beside her and talk to her, as she flipped from her back to her side testing out her comfort and considered the gravelness of his voice. Until she had landed on the right bed, the tenth one, declaring it her perfect match as she looked over at him beside her. 

“Nah, I can’t take your perfect match, hun, your one true love.” He joked, folding up the newspaper with the comics up, setting it aside in favor of looking at her. “Besides my bed is fine for now. I just… sometimes I like being close to the door.” 

She hummed. “I can rearrange the living room today? Do you want to move your bed downstairs?” She hadn’t even questioned it, still searching for something to sate his comfort. 

He laughed at this, he would never let her rearrange things without him and she knew it. He had hovered something harsh those first three months, moving around most things for her as she pointed from object to object. 

“No, no.” He shook his head. “I just, I ain’t used to sleeping in a room without a straight way out of it yet.” He admits, munching on his bacon, shrugging like he was discussing the weather. “So sometimes I just, sleep on the couch. No big deal.” 

She sits back in her seat, shock marring her face. He had spent so long hopping from place to place she had forgotten he hadn’t had a place to call home in a decade- besides his car. Something that may have four walls, but had no heart. 

Hotels, to cars, to floors of shelters, he had slept in questionable places for far too long, and in some cases Stanford’s room sometimes felt like a new prison, or at least reminded him of a certain Colombian one. Except this one contained taunting memories and a stupid amount of sweaters. 

It hurt more, to open his door to find hers closed, for some reason. He didn’t like the thought of her trapped either, nestled in a part of the house he couldn’t get to. But he didn’t know how to voice this to her without sounding mad in a way. Or obsessive maybe. 

She digs her toes into the junction of his ribs, grabbing his attention. She’s smiling across from him, and standing before he can ask why. Grabbing his hand, she pulls him up the stairs to their own parallel doors, not even hesitating to walk through the door Stanford used to call his own. 

She’s muttering under her breath as he stands in the doorway, landlocked by witnessing her in this exact space for some reason. She moves to the window, opening it all the way and fumbling with the screen. She gets it off and makes to climb out the window before he can protest. 

“If you want a way out, you got it right here!” She grunts, footing her way through to the shingled roof, his protests falling on deaf ears. 

“Get the fuck back in here!” He leans out, making to grab her. “Ain’t no way this shack's roof is any good!” 

She prances around, slightly mocking him by moving away from his waving arm. “Stan! It’s fine!” She laughs, the sun shining on her figure. Suddenly serious she stops, hands on her hips. “Seriously, if you need a way out, keep the window open, okay?” 

She crawls back through the window a moment later, using Stan’s hand as a weight as she balances back on the wooden floor. 

Still serious, she continues, “Stan if you need to keep the window open, you can keep the door open also if you feel like it.” 

She smiles like she has a brilliant idea, moving across the hall she opens her own room to display her own mess of things. “I can keep mine open also if it helps.” 

How the fuck had she read his mind? He was continually dumbfounded by her unquantifiable amounts of patience she had for him. Like it was a reserve she tapped into, to specifically deal with all his dumb bullshit. He would let it pile in the back of his head, but she’d reach back in and shake him awake, present him with a solution, and he forgets himself in his need to question “why?”. 

He had taken too long to respond, and she stands in the hall, hands wringing her too large t-shirt and looking surprisingly bashful. “Is this okay?” She asks, is this what you need? Vying for his approval as she continues. “Because really I don’t mind you sleeping on the couch, I really don’t, you can keep doing it if you like! Really! I just… I just…” 

Unspoken between them, he already knew. She meant well, she meant the best actually. She wanted him to be comfortable, here, with her. Wanted him to stop moving from place to place in the house because no where felt right because it all felt like a trap. Wanted him to know the four walls they shared could never be a prison, and that she didn’t want him to hop around anymore searching and clawing his way out of it. To not have to Goldilocks around the house, because across the hall from her had to be just right. 

And it was. Because she had read his mind as usual, and he was almost tired of being absolutely astounded by it. 

He nodded, smiling across from her, his confirmation in the squeeze he gave her hand as he reached for her again, and in the ruffling of her hair he gave her as he slipped from the house later. Making his way outside to his work, somehow lighter than usual.

They ended up on the couch most weekends, or at least most Saturday nights. 

She had insisted, against his better nature, that it was not appropriate to drink yourself into a stupor on a weekday. So he had gotten used to the shared moments on the weekend, routinely looking forward to shitty VHS movies and even shittier boxed wine and beer. 

She laughed at fucking everything when she was drunk. He almost wondered if she had ever been high, or if she even needed to be. He might as well be a stand up comedian most weekends, because if he thought he had a great audience Monday through Friday, well he had an even more endearing one on the weekends. 

It was a hot July night, and she had scoffed at his light beer that resided in the back of the fridge. Tisking at him as she danced around the kitchen, pouring sweet red wine into mugs (their only cups), and shooing him back to the couch. Only wine in the summer, only wine when it was this hot.

And it was hot, and humid, unsurprising for Oregon really. So hot in fact, that she had decided pjs were appropriate attire for the night, luckily for him. So he shed his jeans in favor of loose boxers and a well worn shirt. Unluckily for him, she had decided upon much the same wardrobe, which was odd for her and only uncomfortable for sober him. 

But he wasn’t sober anymore, and he had to admit she was rather enchanting hunched over on the couch, laughing at his shitty jokes with one of his old band t-shirts on, shorts that she made no indication of even owning, bagging up around the tops of her thighs. 

He had been intoxicated on numerous amounts of things, nothing, of course, too hard or addictive per say, but it’d be the first time he was this drunk on wine. 

And it was… different. 

He had scoffed at the movie she chose originally tonight. She always chose the second movie, and he chose the first. They had a habit of in depth discussing during films, especially when more intoxicated. 

But he had never been so incredibly invested in a romantic comedy in his entire life, he blamed his company and the alcohol. 

“I can’t believe that he thinks he stands a chance with the likes of her! She’s sacrificed so much! Her jobs on the line here and he won’t even consider marrying her for a green card!” He yelled, just about jumping at the screen. This man in the movie was ridiculous, demanding things from his assistant and throwing her away the next. 

She ran back into the room, mugs full with their next round. She had become the bartender tonight, waiting on him and grabbing snacks when he’d ask in exchange for rubbing her aching shoulders. 

“What did I miss!” She rushed back, handing him his mug and taking her seat back in front of him on the floor, her throw blanket being used as a cushion. 

He takes a sip, setting the mug aside her own on the floor and moving back to place his hands on her tense shoulders. 

“She’s being kicked out of the country right in front of her boss and he ain’t gonna do anything about it! She basically does everything for this man, why doesn’t he see he needs her?” 

She groans below him, her head rocking back as she takes her own drink. “Are we gonna discuss the intricates of them having a relationship though? I love marriage of convenience, don’t get me wrong, but that’s her boss! Isn’t there a weird power dynamic here?” 

“Oh ya!” He agrees, nodding along as his fingers began to dig into her muscles. “We gotta talk about that because if this gets creepy we gotta pick out a different one. He’s already pissing me off!” 

She looks up at him, eyes glowing with an idea. Enchanted, she moves away from him, crawling to the cabinet beside the T.V., and he really swears that he tries to look away. But he also reasons that it’ll be a while before he gets the chance to see her in shorts again. And fuck. 

She turns back, a new VHS in hand. “This!” She exclaims. “Now this is my favorite rom-com!” 

A shitty picture is well worn on the front of the movie sleeve, a VHS he doesn’t recognize from the donation bin sitting in her hands. She must have brought it with her, and she must have had it for a while. 

She crawls forward, movie in hand and a bright, flushed smile on her face. 

“Please, please, please Stanley! This one!” She all but yelled as she leaned up into him. His legs had already been parted to accommodate her sitting in front of him, but now were warm with her torso between them, as she crawled into his lap, movie still in hand and smile still on her face. She leaned up onto his chest, a fake pout on her lips as she looked up at him. 

He forgot himself for a minute, excusing her silently for calling him Stanley in her drunken plee. His hand finding her waist as he answered. 

“Okay, okay!” He snorted. “Better be a better love interest because this guy sucks.” 

He missed her as soon as she left, but his heart still felt something sick when she yelled victoriously on the ground, hand raised in celebration, movie clutched to her chest. Rolling from her current position to the VHS player and popping out the current horrendous movie. All the while she giggled, and he followed in much the same manner. Laughing while running his hand through his hair, trying to soothe himself to forget her warmth. 

She crawled back to him (fuck) settling back into his knees from her position on the ground. The title screen flashed, but he was much too busy watching it illuminate her face. Heart sick again when she leaned her head all the way back, hair across his knees and thighs, she smiles up at him, a thank you on her lips. Clutching his mug in her hands, bringing it to her lips for a sip before passing it up to him too. 

And when he carried her to bed that night he wondered when the tight sickness would leave him. He never closed either of their doors. 

It didn’t happen like this, that night. 

Not from what he could remember anyway, but he felt too groggy to care about accuracy and too intoxicated by the image of her to care much for what was right. 

Her hands had continued up his thighs from her place knelt in front of him, his back hot against the living room couch. She had climbed up on top of him, creeping up to sit on his knees and thighs like she had been there before. Her smile turned sweet into something twisted as she leaned in close to his face, the closest she had ever gotten to it. Whispering something between the heat between the two of them, something lost on him, as he tried to lean closer, tried to bridge the gap between their chests, aching to feel her against the very front of him. 

He knew it was different because she had never worn this in front of him before, at least willingly. He had caught her in the middle of the night, stumbling from her open bedroom door to the bathroom down the hall, panties striped and endearing on her ass. He had seen them in the washer, had seen her fold them and tuck them away. And she was in them, sitting on his fucking lap. 

His hands made for her, reaching behind her and dragging her close, his fingers edging the back of the band of her striped panties. 

She gasps like she does when she’s happy for him, always jumping from her position on the couch cheering along with him when he gets a stupid fucking The Price is Wrong answer right. 

And it’s how he imagined it, fuck, how he was currently dreaming of her noises. In bits and pieces he could remember, his brain scrambling to paint an image of her wanting him.  

Her hands edge along the back of his head, running through his long hair, and tracing to the front along his jaw. Mouth open, her fingers glide along the bottom of his lip, teasing. 

She whispers again, closer now. Her chest heaving against his own, her ass waits precariously positioned above right where he dreamt of her being. Right along the space he places her feet every morning, right where he thought she may kill him.

He catches it this time, between them. Her voice wavering like it had that day in the car when she had apologized for calling him him. He thought of begging for it, allowing her to say his name, but she had read his mind like she always fucking managed to do. 

“Please, Stanley.” 

He had surged forward like his own tidal wave, meeting her in the hot space between them. But he could only imagine a kiss with her, dream of it here. 

He imagined it slow, and building. Imagined her hesitation and the pout of her lip between his fucking teeth, imagined her moan when he eventually came back for more. 

Her hands pulled at his fucking hair, the only time she had placed them there to harm, and he groaned as she pulled him forward, meeting again in the middle of the heat they shared there on the couch. She moaned, her hips rushing to his own, making a new heat between them. 

The friction between them was the same as the kiss, slow and building. Grinding herself in the curve of his lap, right where they both needed each other. Every pass slightly faster, every groan from her more imagined, more unreal. 

The pressure felt real though, and her fingers in his hair felt even more so. His head thrown back on the couch, he looked down his nose at her, a groan leaving his throat as she makes a home in his shoulder, as her hips cause waves against his fucking lap. 

Her breath is hot on his neck, something real, and her echoing noises move up his shoulder to his ear and it makes him hotter than he could imagine. Her groans come to a precipice, getting higher in octave and volume and she thinks to fucking bite him there, right on his shoulder. 

The image she makes shakes him, his hands remembering where they are on her ass and hips, as he makes to work them harder, to somehow bring her closer and harder to the crook of his boxers. Her teeth nestle into him, and it makes him groan more, her hot breath and aching moans reverb off his skin back to him. 

It sends him reeling forward, his own head rushing off the back of the couch, groaning in heat, moving in blind passion. His head rests against the top of her own, his big hands digging into the fat of her behind, finger creeping in through the top of her panties. 

“Fuck.” He groans between them. “Fuck, honey.” His hips canting up, her moans echoing again, her teeth unlaching, like she can’t ground herself to him anymore, because all the movement is him now. He’s fucking using her, the pressure hot, and she peels back to look at him, a heat in her eyes he can’t have imagined. He must have seen it before, marring her face. He had, he swears, seen her with this heat in her eyes before.

He was using her. 

It stops just as abruptly as it began, and he wakes to his discomfort. His room is cool despite the morning sun, the curtains by his windows billowing out with September wind. His door wide open, and his hand curled around something that no longer needed relief. 

His other hand, clutching his hair in a fist. The back of his head tender from the pressure, and his fingers heavy from sleep. 

He got up quicker than usual, his heart still pounding oddly in his chest as he attempted to catch a breath he didn’t remember losing. On his way out of his room, dresssed for the day, he peaks into her parallel room, her door wide open like it was every day now. 

He groans low, she’s wearing the fucking stripes. 

He tries not to think about it the rest of the day, tries not to be disgusted with himself, but his chest aches something odd and his stride is somehow uneven for the rest of the day. His heart carries something sickly when he sees her that day, and she pretends it doesn’t hurt he’s oddly quiet that day, or that he doesn’t read her the morning comics like usual. 

She thinks it has something to do with how flushed he is, when she catches his staring that evening, as they sit beside each other on the couch, T.V. echoing in the background.

[strawberrysands]

Spencer Reid x Reader: he gets shot.

Spencer Reid x Reader

Prompt: Reader is Spencer’s secret girlfriend and works at the hospital when he gets shot.

Warnings: mentions of blood, getting shot (not reader), guns, fluff, a little angst, not proofread

Word count: 1.4k

I sigh as I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes. God, it’s been a long day. You look at your watch and groan; another three hours were left on your shift?

I turn my head as I hear a chuckle next to me, seeing my coworker raise her eyebrows at me.

“Long day?” She asks me.

“You have no idea.” I sigh. “I have touched way more bodily fluids today than I ever intended to in my entire life.”

She chuckles and shakes her head at me. “At least you got someone waiting for you at home.”

I can’t help the blush that appears on my cheeks as she mentions Spencer. Sure, we’ve been together for a while now, but it never got old.

My phone buzzes and I open it, smiling to see a text from Spencer: “We’re heading out now, should be back tonight. Don’t wait up for me ;)”

I quickly reply with a “Stay safe xxx” before returning to the computer in front of me. Those last three hours would feel like days at this rate.

--

An hour or so later, a message over the PA grabs my attention.

“Any available staff, please head to the emergency bay. Male, GSW to the neck.” So I was getting some action tonight.

But oh, I wished I wouldn’t. My eyes grow wide as I recognize who was being reeled in on a stretcher.

“Spencer!” His name had left my mouth before I could stop myself. I rush over to him, putting pressure on his wound.

“His pressure’s dropping!” 

A tear rolls down my cheek as I hear those words, watching his eyes roll to the back of his head. A hand gently pushed me back, struggling against my attempts to get back to Spencer.

“Stop.” Another nurse says. “You’re too close to this. You’re no help in this state.”

I know he’s right, but my heart said otherwise. I stop struggling as Spencer gets reeled into surgery, my arms going limp at my sides as I watch helplessly.

I hadn’t even noticed the people he came in with, since I had never met his team. Their glances my way went unnoticed.

--

My knee bounces as I check the time over and over again.

“Hey.” I look to my right, seeing a woman with colorful clothing and glasses smile kindly at me. “He’ll be alright.”

I nod, not noticing in my own stress how she said ‘he’ or how she seemed to try to convince herself of those words just as much as me.

I shoot up out of the chair I was in when I recognize Spencer’s surgeon come out.

“Is he alright? Is he-“

He interrupts me before I could continue. “He’ll be okay. The surgery went alright. He’s in room 102.”

I can’t help myself as I quickly throw my arms around him. “Thank you.”

The team watches as I quickly make my way to his room.

“Who was that?” Emily asks, but she doesn’t get an answer. The whole team was just as confused as she was.

--

“Did they check your vitals again?” I’m frantic as I check them myself, not waiting for Spencer to answer. “Did they-“

Spencer grabs my hand, pulling me back into the chair beside his bed. “Look at me. I’m okay.”

I quickly shake my head as I sit back down and grab his hand in mine. “You were shot, Spence. You could’ve-“ I cut myself off as I notice the tears that start to well up in my eyes.

“Just- don’t ever do that again.” I kiss his hand, earning a smile from him that I return.

Our moment was cut short when a nurse enters, not even glancing at us as he goes to Spencer’s IV.

“He had antibiotics an hour ago.” I say, frowning at the syringe in his hand. He takes a look at the chart, shaking his head.

“Doesn’t say so here.”

I quickly realize just what type of antibiotics are in the syringe, just as Spencer does.

“Hey, I can’t have those.” He starts, reaching for the nurse. “I have a severe reaction to those, it’s all in the chart-“

When he completely ignores him, I get up. “Hey, stop!”

Just as I grab the nurse’s hand and push it away, I hear Spencer yell. “He has a gun!”

My eyes grow wide as I realize Spencer was right, seeing it just as the nurse pushes me to the floor. I scoot backwards as I stare right down the barrel of the gun. I hear Spencer yell something and commotion outside the room, footsteps coming closer. Just as the man’s hand curls around the trigger, I shoot forward in a moment of bravery.

The sound of the shot has my ears ringing, but the bullet hits the floor just as I grab his legs, tackling him to the floor and kicking the gun away. I’m breathing heavily, wether from the shock or adrenaline, I didn’t know. My hand connects to the man’s face just as the door opens, a rather panicked stern man coming in, other people right on his tail.

I see his lips move but don’t hear him say anything, the ringing too strong. I turn to Spencer to see if he’s alright, finding his eyes already on me. He, too, was saying something as he reached for me, his hand cupping my face.

“Hotch, get him out of here.” I hear Spencer say, my hearing slowly coming back. The stern man from earlier handcuffs and escorts the man out of there, the others behind him staying at the door.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asks, his eyes scanning my face for any sort of injury. I cover his hand on my cheek with my own, nodding at him.

“Yeah, I’m just, uh, I-“ I ramble. “I’m okay.”

“I hate to interrupt, but uh-“ I turn around to see the voice coming from one of the people still at the door, black hair adorning her face as she motions to the two of us.

“Oh, yeah, I really wished you would’ve met under different circumstances, but,” Spencer starts, before motioning from me to the others, “this is my team. Emily, Derek, Rossi, JJ, Garcia, Hotch – this is Y/N, my, uh, girlfriend.”

A few looks of shock pass over their faces as I wave at them, a shy smile on my face.

“I really wanted you to meet her, I did, but it’s-“ Spencer starts explaining, but the man called Rossi cuts him off.

“It’s alright, kid. We understand.” He smiles kindly.

“Damn, pretty boy. I’m proud of you.” Derek says, smiling widely at his friend and winking at me.

“Shut up.” Spencer groans, and I can’t help but chuckle. He was never going to hear the end of this.

“You really pack a punch.” Emily says to me, referring to the man whose nose was probably broken.

“Oh, it was probably just the adrenaline.” I say, getting slightly flustered at all the attention.

“Girl, you broke the guy’s nose. That’s impressive.” The blonde woman, JJ, smiles at me.

“Now, everyone get out. I’d like to have my girlfriend to myself, before all of you steal her from me.”

Spencer’s statement earns a round of chuckles from everyone, before finally leaving the two of you alone.

His thumb runs soothing circles across your bruised knuckles, smiling at you. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I know.” I say, grinning. “Your team seems nice. The guy in the suit, Hotch, could loosen up a little though.”

Spencer laughs at that, shaking his head. “I’ve been trying to tell him for years.”

I lean forward, gently brushing your lips against his.

“I love you.” I whisper, feeling Spencer smile against my lips.

--

“He better not let her go.” Rossi says, all of the team watching you through the window.

“How did he not tell anyone for so long? If I had a girlfriend that pretty, I would be boasting about it.” Garcia huffs, shaking her head.

Derek chuckles. “Yes, you would, baby girl.”

Hotch clears his throat. “Don’t you think we’re a bit creepy, just watching them through the window?”

Emily shrugs. “Probably. But they’re too cute, I’m not leaving.”

[starsenha]

PERSISTENT / S.J

Pairing ◊ reader x Jake (ft. '02 line, Aespa's NingNing and Ive's Gaeul)

Genre ◊ VVVVVVERY SUGGESTIVE, fluff

Warnings ◊ SUGGESTIVE AF, Jake is kinda dominant, a little toxic??, some sort of manipulation i guess??, Jake is persistent (ofcc) and plays little mind games to get what he wants, sitting on lap, heavy making out, reader is jealous and possessive

Word count ◊ 4k

Summary ◊ Jake had been pursuing you and aksing you out for years now and he finally understood that this was not how he was gonna get you to got out with him, so he tried something different.

a/n: not proofread, enjoy!

You and Jake had known each other for as long as you could remember. From kindergarten finger paintings to high school finals, you were always in the same schools, the same classes, and somehow, the same everything. One thing you knew for sure was that Jake liked you. You didn’t know exactly when it started, but ever since that day, he hadn’t left you alone. He was like a little puppy, following you everywhere. He loved to annoy you because the simple fact that you acknowledged his presence was enough for him. 

Like that day, it was lunch period, and you were sitting with your best friends, Yizhuo and Gaeul, laughing over some silly meme Gaeul had shown you. Suddenly, you felt a familiar presence hovering over your shoulder.

“Hey, y/n, what’s up?” Jake’s voice was unmistakably cheerful, and you didn’t even need to look up to know it was him.

“Jake, we’re eating,” you said, trying to ignore him.

“Oh, perfect timing then! I brought you this,” he said, pulling out a slightly squished cupcake from his bag.

You sighed. “Jake, I already told you. I don’t like cupcakes.”

“I know, but this one is special. It’s made with extra love,” he said with a wink, placing it in front of you.

Gaeul snickered, and Yizhuo gave you a sympathetic smile. “Just eat it, Y/N, maybe he’ll go away,” Yizhuo whispered.

You rolled your eyes but took a bite. Jake’s face lit up like he’d just won the lottery.

“See? I knew you’d like it. So, how about that date?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“No, Jake. For the hundredth time, no,” you replied, trying to keep a straight face.

“Okay, okay. But remember, I’m a persistent guy,” he said, finally walking away, but not without blowing you a kiss.

Or that day during biology class. He just flirted with you whenever he got the chance. You were in biology class, trying to focus on the lab assignment. You could feel Jake’s eyes on you from across the room. It was almost like he was summoning you to look at him. You sighed and turned to face him.

“What do you want Sim?”

He grinned. “Nothing, just admiring the view.”

You groaned. “Focus on your assignment.”

“Can’t. You’re too distracting,” he said, leaning closer. “By the way, are you free this weekend? Maybe we could catch a movie?”

“Jake, do you ever give up?” you asked, trying to sound exasperated, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you with a slight smile.

“Nope, not when it comes to you,” he said, winking.

Before you could respond, Jay and Sunghoon, Jake’s best friends, started laughing from the other side of the room.

“Dude, you’re relentless,” Jay said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, give it a rest, man,” Sunghoon added.

Jake just shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “You guys don’t get it. I’m playing the long game.”

Later that day, you were studying in the library, trying to get some peace and quiet to study for your upcoming exams. You thought you were safe until you heard the unmistakable sound of Jake’s voice.

“Hey, y/n, need a study buddy?” he asked, sliding into the seat next to you.

You didn’t even look up from your book. “Jake, I’m trying to study, and I need actual quiet to concentrate.”

“Great! Me too. We can study together,” he said, pulling out his textbook.

You sighed. “Why do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

“Annoy me.”

“Because it’s the only way I can get your attention,” he said, leaning in closer. “And because I like you. So, how about that date?”

You looked at him, exasperated. “Jake, seriously?”

“Hey, it was worth a shot,” he said, smiling. “But I’ll be here if you change your mind.”

The years flew by, and you were now in college. And you ended up in the same college as him, sharing your minor. At this point, you were sure he was following you on purpose, even if he swore it was pure coincidence. 

It was a sunny afternoon on the college campus, and you were sitting on a bench with Yizhuo and Gaeul, enjoying the rare free time between classes. The conversation was light and filled with laughter when you spotted Jake approaching from a distance. Over the years, he had grown taller, his features more defined, and his presence somehow more commanding. You hated to admit it, but he had become hot.

“Hey, ladies,” Jake greeted, flashing his signature smile as he reached you.

You tried to stifle your smile, but it was no use. “Hey, Sim.”

“So, y/n, have you finally decided to go out with me?” he asked, sitting down next to you and leaning in closer than necessary.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks. “In your dreams, Jake.”

“Oh, every night,” he said, winking. “You look really good today, by the way.”

You felt your face grow hotter. “Thanks, I guess.”

Jake’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Did I just see a blush? Are you finally warming up to me?”

“Yeah, keep dreaming, Jake,” you repeated, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

He chuckled. “Okay, okay. But just so you know, the offer still stands. Any time, anywhere.”

As he stood up to leave, he gave you a playful wink. “Catch you later, Y/N.”

You watched him walk away, unable to hide the small smile on your face. The moment he was out of earshot, Yizhuo and Gaeul pounced.

“Did you just smile at Jake?” Yizhuo asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

“No, I did not,” you protested, crossing your arms defensively.

“You totally did,” Gaeul chimed in. “And you blushed! I saw it.”

“Okay, maybe I smiled a little. But it doesn’t mean anything. I was just being polite, that’s all.” you insisted.

“Sure, it doesn’t,” Yizhuo said, smirking. It's not like you ever cared about being polite before. You even look less annoyed than you usually do.”

“I assure you, he’s still as annoying as ever,” you said, trying to sound convincing.

Gaeul raised an eyebrow. “Annoying? Maybe. But he became hot, huh?”

You groaned. “Don’t remind me. He’s like a loser trapped in a hot guy’s body.”

Yizhuo and Gaeul burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in. Deep down, you knew they were right. Jake had a way of getting under your skin, but lately, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. And you had no idea why. It couldn’t be only because of his looks, though. Maybe you actually liked him ? You did not even know. After that day, every interaction you had with Jake, like every time he complimented you or flirted with you, elicited a blush on your cheeks, a blush that you tried to hide most of the time but failed miserably. 

Jake find himself hang out in Jay’s bedroom with Sunghoon one day. Hoon was flipping through a magazine while Jay fiddled with his guitar, strumming random chords. Jake was lying on Jay’s bed, staring at the ceiling with a satisfied grin on his face.

Sunghoon looked up from his magazine and smirked. “So, Jake, how’s your little mission to win y/n’s heart going?”

Jake propped himself up on his elbows. “It’s going pretty well, actually.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, pausing his strumming. “Really? She finally said yes to a date?”

“Not exactly,” Jake admitted. “But she’s been blushing every time I compliment her lately.”

Jay and Sunghoon exchanged surprised glances.

“No way,” Sunghoon said, closing his magazine. “Y/n? Blushing? Are we talking about the same person who used to roll her eyes at you every chance she got?”

Jake laughed. “Yep, the very same. She still rolls her eyes, but there’s definitely a blush there now. And she’s not as annoyed when I flirt with her.”

Sunghoon leaned forward, his interest piqued. “Interesting. So, what’s your next move?”

Jake shrugged. “I’m just gonna keep doing what I’m doing. It’s obviously working.”

Jay shook his head. “Dude, you need to step up your game. If she’s starting to warm up to you, you can’t just keep doing the same thing. You need to make a bold move.”

Sunghoon nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you need to shake things up. Have you ever thought about making her jealous?”

Jake frowned. “Jealous? I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Trust me,” Sunghoon said, leaning back in his chair. 

‘’Why would he trust you though? It’s not like you pull girls,’’ Jay retorted. 

‘’First, rude. And, I saw it in a movie; I’m sure it’ll work!’’ Exclaimed sunghoon, looking a bit offended. “We’ve seen how she was with her exes. What was his name again? Jeonghyeon?’’ the two man nodded soflty. ‘’She’s definitely the jealous and possessive type. If she thinks you might be interested in someone else, it might push her to realize her feelings for you.”

Jake looked thoughtful. “I guess that could work. But how do I do it without making her mad?”

Sunghoon grinned. “Easy. Just hang out with other girls, flirt a little, but make sure Y/N sees it. Nothing too over the top, just enough to get her attention. Also, you need to put some distance between you two.”

Jay nodded. “Yeah, that could work actually. She’s never gonna realise her feelings if you still follow her like a puppy.”

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, guys. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“You won’t,” Sunghoon assured him. “Just be subtle about it. She’ll get the message without feeling like you’re rubbing it in her face.”

Jake thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Alright, I’ll give it a shot. But if it backfires, I’m blaming you two.”

Jay and Sunghoon laughed.

“Deal,” Jay said. “But trust us, this is going to work.’’

The day after, Jake set his little plan in motion. He knew it was not really a sane idea, but as long as he ended up with you, he didn’t really care how. The sun was shining brightly over the college campus as you walked to your first class, coffee in hand. You spotted Jake ahead, talking with Jay and Sunghoon. Normally, he’d be quick to greet you with a smile or a joke, but today, he barely glanced your way as you passed by.

“Hey, Jake,” you said, hoping to catch his attention.

He looked up briefly, offering a curt nod. “Hey, y/n.”

That was it. No teasing comment, no playful grin, no flirting. Just a nod. You frowned, feeling an unexpected pang of disappointment. You continued on to class, but the interaction, or lack thereof, lingered in your mind. Throughout the day, you noticed Jake acting distant. He didn’t seek you out between classes, and even when you were in the same room, his attention seemed to be elsewhere. You told yourself it didn’t matter and that you didn’t care, but it was hard to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest.

Lunchtime rolled around, and you were sitting with Yizhuo and Gaeul in the cafeteria. You tried to focus on their conversation, but your eyes kept drifting toward Jake, who was sitting a few tables away with Jay, Sunghoon, and a girl you recognized from your biology class, Chaeyoung.

Jake was laughing at something Chaeyoung said, his attention fully on her. He leaned in closer, his expression animated and flirtatious. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach. Sure, you had already seen him with other girls before, but never he had his attention solely on them and not even a glance towards you. 

Yizhuo nudged you. “Earth to y/n. What’s going on?”

“Huh? Nothing,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Just distracted.”

Gaeul followed your gaze and smirked. “Distracted by Jake flirting with Chaeyoung?”

“I’m not distracted,” you insisted, but your eyes betrayed you, flicking back to Jake and Mia.

Jake glanced your way, and for a moment, your eyes met. He smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. He then turned back to her, laughing at something she said and placing a hand on her arm.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “What’s his deal, anyway?" you muttered, aggressively stabbed your food with your fork. 

Yizhuo and Gaeul exchanged knowing looks.

“Looks like someone’s a little jelly,” Yizhuo teased.

“I’m not jealous,” you snapped a little too quickly. “It’s just... weird seeing him paying attention to another girl that much, but good for him I guess.”

Gaeul raised an eyebrow. “Sure, Y/N. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You tried to ignore them, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Jake and Chaeyoung. Why did it bother you so much? You had always found Jake’s attention annoying, but now that it was directed at someone else, it felt different.

A few days later, Jake was still distant from you, and honestly, that made you a bit sad. His messages, his constant flirting, you actually missed it. You missed him. Your biology teacher pairs you up for a project, and you were a little bit too happy about it. Usually, it annoyed you are being paired with him, but this time, you saw that as an opportunity to spend some time with him. 

You stood in front of Jake’s house, taking a deep breath before knocking on the door. Jake opened the door with a friendly smile. “Hey, Y/N. Come on in.”

“Thanks,” you said, stepping inside. “Nice place.”

“Thanks,” Jake replied, leading you to his living room where his laptop and project materials were already set up. “Figured we’d be more comfortable here than in the library.”

You sat down on the couch and pulled out your notes. “Yeah, this is fine.”

For the next hour, you both worked diligently on the project. You couldn’t help but notice that Jake hadn’t thrown a single flirtatious comment your way, and it was starting to bug you. Normally, by now, he’d have made at least a dozen jokes or compliments.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. “So, Jake, you’re not gonna compliment at all today? Like, my hair, my outfit, nothing?’’

Jake looked up from his laptop, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, that. Well, I figured I’d finally take the hint. You’ve rejected me so many times, I thought it was about time I moved on.”

You blinked in surprise, not expecting that response. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “I mean, there’s only so much rejection a guy can take before he gets the message.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. Deep down, you’d grown used to and even liked his attention. The thought of him no longer caring felt strangely hollow.

“Oh,” you said, trying to sound indifferent. “I guess that makes sense.”

Jake noticed the change in your demeanor and hid a smirk. He had hoped to evoke this reaction. “Yeah, it’s for the best. I’m over it.”

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of emotions. “Well, good for you, I guess.”

Jake leaned back, crossing his arms. “You almost sound disappointed, y/n.”

“I’m not,” you said quickly, but the slight crack in your voice betrayed you.

“Sure,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “But, hey, at least now we can just focus on this project without any distractions, right?”

You nodded, but the words felt hollow. “Right.”

As you both continued working, you found it hard to concentrate. Jake’s lack of flirtation was more distracting than his usual behavior. You realized just how much his playful comments and attention had meant to you, even if you never admitted it out loud.

After a while, Jake stretched and stood up. “Want something to drink? I could use a break.”

“Yeah, sure,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Water’s fine.”

Jake headed to the kitchen, and you took the moment to collect your thoughts. Why did it bother you so much that he claimed to be over you? Was it possible you’d taken his attention for granted?

When he returned with the drinks, you decided to test the waters. “So, Jake, are you really over it? Over me, I mean.”

Jake handed you a glass, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Why, y/n? Does it matter?”

You hesitated, feeling a flush of frustration. “I don’t know. Maybe.” You looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “I… I kind of missed your messages and your attention. It’s weird not having you around all the time.”

Jake’s eyes widened in surprise, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “Really? You missed me?”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Yeah, I guess I did. A little.”

Jake’s grin turned into a smirk. “Well, well, well. Look who’s coming around. You’re finally admitting you like my attention.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no heat behind it. “Don’t get cocky, Jake.”

“Oh, too late for that,” he said, leaning back and crossing his arms, a self-satisfied expression on his face. “So, you admit it. You like me.”

You sighed, feeling a mixture of frustration and something else—something softer. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you did miss me,” he countered, leaning forward again. “That’s a start.”

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “Okay, fine. Maybe I missed you a lot. Happy?”

Jake’s smile was radiant, his eyes dancing with joy. “More than happy, y/n. I knew deep down you liked me too.”

You groaned, trying to hide your smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he said, his tone cocky and arrogant. “Admit it, you like me.”

You bit your lip, feeling the last of your defenses crumbling. “Maybe I do.”

Jake’s eyes softened as he reached out, gently cupping your face with his hand. “Finally,” he murmured, his voice tender. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear that.”

Before you could respond, Jake leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But when you didn’t, he deepened the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck to pull you closer.

You melted into the kiss, feeling a warmth spread through you. It was as if everything finally made sense. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, but Jake’s eyes were filled with happiness.

“So, does this mean you’ll go out with me?” he asked, his voice hopeful.

You smiled, feeling lighter than you had in a long time. “Yeah, Jake. I’ll go out with you.”

Jake’s grin was infectious as he pulled you into another kiss. This time, the kiss was deeper, more intense. His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer until you practically sat in his lap.

You let out a soft gasp as you felt the firmness of his chest against yours, and Jake took the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss even further as his hand fisted the back of your shirt. Jake’s hands roamed your back, moving them underneath the shirt, tracing patterns that sent shivers down your spine. 

He pulled you fully onto his lap, his grip on your hips firm. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and husky.

You moaned softly, the sound swallowed by his kiss. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze intense. “You’re so beautiful, y/n. Every time I see you, it takes my breath away.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but before you could respond, he captured your lips again, his hands sliding up to cup your face, while his other rested on your hips. You had no idea how things escalated so quickly, but it felt so good. The kiss was all-consuming, and you felt like you were floating, every nerve ending in your body alive with sensation.

Jake’s hands moved to your thighs, squeezing them gently before sliding up to your waist. “You feel so perfect,” he whispered, his lips trailing down to your neck. “So soft, so amazing.”

You tilted your head back, giving him better access as he kissed and nipped at your skin. “Jake… oh my God…’’ you let out a moan as you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his plump lips on your skin. 

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck. “I love hearing you say my name like that,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “Fuck, baby, you drive me crazy.”

You moaned softly, your hands roaming his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. “Jakey… you feel so good,” you whispered, unable to hold back.

He smirked, clearly pleased by your reaction. “You like that, don’t you, baby?” he teased, his eyes intensely dark. “You like feeling my hands on you.” You nodded eagerly, and your reaction made him chuckle slightly. His eyes locked onto yours, and he pulled you closer, his grip tightening. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. So perfect.’’ 

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the raw emotion, and it made your heart ache with a mixture of tenderness and desire. You leaned down, kissing him with all the pent-up passion you’d been hiding for so long. As your lips met, you couldn’t help but admire how handsome he had become. Your hand traced his jawline, his neck, and basically everything you could touch. 

Driven by a sudden need to feel more of him, you tugged at his shirt, desperate to see and touch the skin beneath. Jake leaned back slightly, allowing you to pull his shirt over his head. As you did, your breath caught in your throat. His body was even more beautiful than you had imagined—and yes, you imagined how his body would look like more times than you cared to admit. 

Jake noticed your admiration and smirked, his cockiness returning. “Like what you see, baby?” he asked, his voice teasing.

You nodded, your fingers trailing over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. “Yeah, I really do.”

He chuckled softly, finding your desperation both cute and incredibly hot. “You’re amazing, baby. And now, you’re all fucking mine.”

He pulled you back into a kiss, this one even more intense than before. His hands moved up your back, pulling you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair. You couldn’t help but whimper against his lips, the sound driving him wild. You could feel how hard he was beneath you. 

“You’re so desperate for me,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and desire. “It’s so hot.”

You blushed at his words, but the heat between you only intensified. With that, he guided you down, his lips trailing hot kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone. His hands moved to your shirt, slowly lifting it over your head. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin. “Every fucking inch of you.”

He continued to kiss and caress you, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body and his hands roaming your body. You felt like you were melting into him, every sense heightened. He was intoxicating.

As he kissed his way back up to your lips, you couldn’t help but run your hands over his chest, marveling at the hard planes and smooth skin. “Jake… I need you,” you whined, your voice trembling with desire.

He captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his hands roaming your body with possessive intent. “You have me, baby. All of me,” he growled, his voice low.

The kiss escalated, growing more urgent, more desperate. Jake’s hands were everywhere, exploring, caressing, claiming. You felt like you were on fire, every touch igniting a new wave of pleasure. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you lost in each other.

As you kissed him back with equal fervor, you knew this was just the beginning. But one thing you were sure about, was that this biology project would not be done today. 

[rinskazuu]

their voice lines about you, as their lover!

just my fav characters^^

INSPIRED BY @fatuismooches and their “harbingers’ voicelines about you.” they did so well, i loved it. y’all should go check it out!

xiao, itto, tighnari, ayato, ningguang, sara, yanfei, childe, diluc, zhongli, kaeya, beidou, cyno, & al haitham x gn!reader

implied that reader is an immortal/non mortal being in xiao & zhongli's.

cw: fluff. use of they/them pronouns. pet names: you’re mostly referred to as their “lover”, and “my darling” in 2 of them. some of them are slightly ooc, but i already put it in parentheses. i tried my best!

a/n: this is my very first post here, and im kinda nervous because even tho ive been writing for a long time, im still rlly insecure of my work. i removed a couple characters cus it got too long.. but if you guys like it, ill make a part two<3

♡

XIAO

about [name]:

“hm? you want to know about [name]? well… there’s not much to say. what? i’m not blushing!”

chat: meals

“personally, the idea of human cuisine doesn’t delight me much. food isn’t necessary for an adepti but, i do enjoy [name]’s cooking quite a lot. they make the best almond tofu.”

chat: stress

xiao lets out a deep sigh, “[name] is too careless. and while they have such a big heart, they take too many dangerous commissions. on more than one occasion, i had to find them myself, just to see them injured. they claim they didn't call my name, because they don’t want to become a burden but, i… ah, never mind.”

chat: bonds

“hm… [name] and i have known each other for centuries. it really does make me happy seeing them and morax together. ah? he goes by zhongli now…?”

chat: flowers

“flowers? such a distraction... i pay no mind to them. but, i have heard from many mortals that, people in relationships do cherish such gifts. should i pick some for [name]?”

♡

ITTO

about [name]:

“[name]?! you’ve met [name]? they’re so cool right? they’re my best bro, my everything, my one and only! tell me, has [name] said anything about me to you? they said they love me? oh! hm? my cheeks? THEY’RE NOT TURNING RED, it’s just the paint…”

chat: onikabuto

“yeah, i’m the best and number 1 at onikabuto fighting! i always win! well, except when i fight with [name]. somehow, they always win, i don’t know how! they never let me in on their secret too. one day, they will tell me.”

chat: jail

“[name] is great. they bail me out all the time. really, i’m so grateful to have them! they’re fit to be the leader of the arataki gang but, nobody can be the leader except me, arataki itto.”

chat: picnics

“[name] and i always go out for picnics, and then we have an onikabuto fight. even though they always win, i’m happy to be spending time with them. but, you gotta be careful, last time, i spilled some of the juice and [name] got a bit angry. huh? what do you mean i don’t seem like a picnic guy?”

chat: horns

“yeah these babies are painted! i usually paint them but sometimes, [name] helps me cover the spots i can’t. they’re so good at it too. is there anything they’re not good at?”

♡

TIGHNARI

about [name]:

“you’ve met my wonderful lover, i see. yes, [name] often helps around gandharva ville. they do visit frequently, even though they reside in sumeru city.”

chat: sadness

tighnari sighs, “i do miss [name] a lot. i know they come often but, with them being busy working for the akademiya, it does get a little lonely without their presence during the night.”

chat: views

“hm, i’d say gandharva ville has some of the best views in all of sumeru! i take [name] to some of these places and, it lights a smile every time! a lot of beautiful flowers and mushrooms grow here. i do make sure to pick the non-poisonous ones though!”

chat: jealousy

“[name] has such a kind soul, all the forest rangers admire them. how could they not? i’ve never seen them do a bad thing in my entire life! though, it does get frustrating when they stare at them too long… i do admit, i get a little jealous.”

chat: petting

“ah? you want to pet my ears? well… i usually only allow [name] to pet me but, i’m sure they wouldn’t mind either. my tail? hah, now you’re going too far!”

♡

AYATO

about [name]:

“hm? [name]? yes, that is the future head of the kamisato clan. ah, don’t tell them just yet but, i do plan on placing this lovely ring where it rightfully belongs.”

chat: family

“well, with only my sister left of our family, i do cherish her very much. [name] gets along with ayaka quite well. hm, speaking of which, they’re probably spending time together, at this hour.”

chat: work

“aside from being the head of the kamisato clan, my role as a commissioner does get in the way of a lot of things, including spending time with my lover. it’s such a shame. yet, they’re so patient with me. say, traveler, do you think i’m undeserving of [name]?”

chat: bubble tea

“haha, i am quite fond of bubble tea. i request for thoma to get it for me often. somehow, [name] always gets wind of it and steals a couple sips. they probably think they’re sneaky but, i know thoma is always telling them. they’re adorable so, i suppose i can’t be complaining.”

chat: safety

“during the vision hunt decree, [name] was really busy working and it worried me to death. i barely saw them and, unfortunately, i had to ask their close friend, kujou sara. both her and i share concerns over them so, she helped me even though, she was a little reluctant.”

♡

NINGGUANG

about [name]:

“apologies, traveler, i’m a little busy right now. [name]? ah, my lover. well, i suppose i can sit down and have a chat about them for a bit.”

chat: danger

“although i’ve had a couple discussions with the adventure guild about [name]’s dangerous commissions, nothing seems to stop them. of course, they’re very passionate about helping others but, i’m worried they’ll put themselves in danger and i won’t be there to save them. traveler, maybe you can talk to them?”

chat: lunch

“hm yes, [name] and i go out to liuli pavilion a lot. i hear many people of liyue mutter about how jealous they are of them, how easy it is gain my attention and time. though, that does strike up my worry about their safety…”

chat: shopping

“although my job, as the protector of liyue, tends to get me busy, you might find it shocking that i do spend a lot of my time with my lover. we go shopping every week. not that i’d ever let you see but, my closet is filled with clothes that match theirs.”

weather: rain

“agh, the rain is such a bother. on the other hand, [name] is fond of the rain, they often venture during this weather. although i despise it, i suppose i can tolerate it for them. will you be a dear and fetch me an umbrella?"

♡

SARA

about [name]:

"so, you want to know about [name]? i hope for your sake, that you don't have any malicious intentions, but other than that, i'll be happy to talk about them."

chat: loyalty

"yes, i am rather extremely loyal to the shogun. [name]? i assure you that this topic doesn't affect our relationship. despite the fact that i'm not shy to talk about it, i'd rather keep our affairs private."

chat: knitting (ooc? hc)

"huh? knitting... so, [name] told you about that. well, i suppose i can tell you, i do enjoy the simple hobby with them. it tends to release a lot of stress. although, i'm not sure why they spoke about it..."

weather: thunder

"the lightning and thunder is a sign of the shogun's will. i do often announce my loyalty to the shogun but, more times than none, i get aggravated by it. the only other thing that allows me to tolerate it is [name]. they love to huddle up to me and i find it adorable, it really takes my mind off the weather. don't tell them... or you might have to start sleeping with one eye open."

chat: onigiri

"as a warrior in inazuma, it's hard to carry heavy foods with me when i am not home, which is why i ask [name] to make me onigiri. they make it so well, it's packed with flavor and it's easy to carry. i always miss their specialty dishes though."

♡

YANFEI

about [name]:

"have you met [name] yet? you have! hm, the expression on your face tells me the meeting with them was delightful. i'll tell you, being a legal adviser is not easy but seeing their bright face every time i come home, makes it a ton easier. they make me forget about all the civil cases."

chat: comfort

"sometimes, i think i'm good at hiding my facial expressions but the moment i come home and see [name], they know exactly how my day went, or more so what type of day i had. they're exceedingly perceptive and, having a lover like them makes my life a whole lot worthwhile."

chat: late night work

"like i said, being a legal adviser isn't necessarily easy, especially when you have a big case. i spend a lot of nights reading into boring cases, like that will i've recently encountered, however, [name] tends to bring me tea and sit in my home office to comfort me. it often distracts me but, i don't mind."

chat: cooking

"i'm sure i've mentioned how much i love tofu, right? well, [name] makes it ten times better. they spoil me too much, often rewarding me with tofu. i can't cook the way they can. archons, i wonder what i did to deserve such a lover like them."

chat: legal knowledge

"though it may come off as a shock, [name] knew quite a lot about laws before i met them. it wasn't until we got into a relationship, did i know about that. you bet i fell even more in love with them."

♡

CHILDE

about [name]:

"good evening comrade! ah, what am i doing? picking flowers for my darling of course. i see, so you have met [name]. haha, they are truly wonderful aren't they? the more deserving they are of my time to be picking glaze lilies for them then, huh?"

weather: snow

"are you shivering, comrade? this weather is nothing compared to snezhnaya! you really remind of [name]. when i brought them to dragonspine, they were sniffling and whatnot. scared me half to death when a hue of blue took over their face, which is what convinced me to halt my vacation to snezhnaya with them."

chat: sparring

"everything in this world pales in comparison to the thrill of sparring. well, aside from spending time with my lover, of course. speaking of which; they're truly strong. [name] has beaten me every time we've sparred throughout our entire relationship, and they think i'm going easy on them but truth is, i really struggle against them..."

chat: spending

"[name] often scolds me for pampering them with expensive gifts but, i see it as a harmless gesture. of course i'm going to spoil my darling, how could i not?! ah, don't tell them about this one. do you think they'll like it? should i get another ring? i am getting sweaty thinking about their reaction. hm, thank you for the reassurance, comrade."

chat: family

"apart from teucer, [name] hasn't met any of my family yet. i'm fully convinced they'll love them though. they get along really well with teucer, he's even went on to call them an older sibling. it makes my heart swell. nothing brings me more joy than seeing my family and lover getting along."

♡

DILUC

about [name]:

"[name]? of course i've met them, they are my lover after all. so you've heard...? they're a wonderful, kind, and passionate soul. what truly delayed our love was that they're a knight of favonius, a captain no less. but, i've grown to love that part of them as well."

chat: job (slightly ooc?)

"[name] looks wonderful under the dim light of angel's share, don't you think? even though we've been in a relationship for a long time, i will never get used to the way they're always so beautiful. ah, pardon me, i'm being unprofessional."

chat: brother

"tch, kaeya can be quite a bother, honestly. but, [name] always encourages me to reconcile with him. i'm not sure what there is to reconcile... though, i understand they do have only pure intentions."

weather: breeze

"usually, i pay no mind to the weather but, as of late, [name] has taken a keen interest in taking me out to cider lake during the night. it's often windy, sometimes a light breeze will cross us. like usual, they look wonderful under the night's light."

chat: art

"i'm not one to be into art but, it's one of [name]'s hobbies. they spend quite a lot of time indulging in this. everything they've made has been, how do i say this... a masterpiece."

♡

ZHONGLI

about [name]:

"i'm not too understanding of human emotions but, one thing i've grown to recognize is my love for [name]. if you haven't met them, i'd be more than happy to introduce them to you. oh? so, you already have. enlighten me on what you think of them."

chat: gifts

"yet again, i've never quite understood the concept of this human tradition; gifting. [name] has informed me on it and i'd like to get them a present too. what do you think, traveler? something sentimental would suffice."

chat: familial bonds (based off hc, might be a little ooc)

"throughout the millennia i've lived, death has swept past me time and time again. aside from [name], that i met a couple hundred years ago, i've gotten a little attached to xiao, which in turn caused me to keep him closer than i intended. no matter, it fills me with joy to watch xiao open up to someone beside me. [name] tends to have that effect."

chat: tea

"tea is arguably one of the only human invented drinks i can tolerate. it's far better than wine. hm, speaking of which, i often send packages of tea i've acquired to [name]. they seem to love it so, i'd be more than delighted to grace a smile on their lovely face."

chat: painting

"quite like the art of tea, painting is... calming. [name] has been painting for centuries and yet, they have not grown bored of it. i find it astonishing, the way they're easily inspired by the changes of liyue. hm, i do enjoy watching them. sometimes, they would ask me to help them, and who am i to say no to my lover?"

♡

KAEYA

about [name]:

"you're surprised i have a lover? haha, well a lot of people fall for my charm, and it's no different for [name]. though, i was also a little shocked, that somebody could have me wrapped around their finger like they do."

chat: drinking

"often times than not, [name] has dragged me home from angel's share, quite literally. yet, they haven't grown tired of me. i suppose i should stop, for their sake."

chat: intimacy

"[name] and i both work long hours, and even though we pass by each other a lot in the halls of the knights of favonius headquarters, i do miss their touch. recently, [name] has suggested late night dates. that's when we started going out to cider lake to go swimming. the water's cold but, it's nothing either of us can't handle."

chat: secrets

"you want to know my secrets? haha, if i told you then, they wouldn't be secrets anymore, would they? [name]...? well, it's best they don't know about my secrets... for their safety of course."

chat: spare time

"what i do in my free time...? well, i spend it with [name] of course! life would be dull without their presence. i'm often busy, and i drink a lot but, without them, i'd be nothing but a shell of a man. i have [name] to thank for making me a happy person."

♡

BEIDOU

about [name]:

"what do you want to know about [name]? i'm the official [name] guide! they easily make my life like a boat on calm waters. though, i'm always adventuring on the sea, and they're associated with the qixing, we always make time for each other."

chat: souvenirs

"am i that easy to read? well, anyone with the right mind would bring back gifts for their lover, especially if their lover is [name]. they've told me about how much they enjoy the portrait i ordered to be painted for us, even though it's not a souvenir."

chat: sailing

"of course, [name] has been on my boat! it took a lot of convincing and arguing with ningguang to allow her subordinate to take a couple days off... i'd love to take them sailing again one day, but, i suppose i'll have to wait a while before that opportunity comes by again."

chat: occupation

"being a pirate did not make it any less intriguing for [name] to start a relationship with me. initially, it was platonic but, during my time on the sea, i began really feeling the absence of their voice and touch. that's when i really understood my feelings."

chat: drinking

"regardless of the fact that i do hold my alcohol well, i'm afraid [name] has seen me drunk on multiple occasions. they gave me an earful the mornings after. i understand their worries over me so, i drink less now."

♡

CYNO

about [name]:

"you are not the first to be shocked that i have a lover. what? is it because i'm the general mahamatra? my career doesn't often get in the way of our rela- what? it's because of my appearance? what's wrong with it...? ah, i see. i can assure you, [name] is a person who's almost never afraid. they're mostly fascinated by things that seem thrilling, though i advise them to keep themself safe. not like they listen to me..."

chat: desert

"while [name] hadn't originated from the desert, they adapt quite well. occasionally, they have complained about the heat, not that i blame them but, they adjust rather quickly."

chat: rivalry

"hmph, that al-haitham... he doesn't get along with many people, probably because of that awful attitude of his but, unsurprisingly, he and [name] are close. i'm not afraid to lose them to him, no, but rather cautious of him. you can never trust a man like him."

chat: star watching (slightly ooc?)

"i was never a big fan of the stars but, ever since my first encounter with [name], they've always encouraged me to go star watching with them. the sky has hardly any affect on me and even though i agree to tag along, i always spend my time staring at them. they are truly mesmerizing..."

chat: concerns

"i'm confident in [name]'s ability to protect themself but, my title as general mahamatra does worry me regarding their safety. sometimes, i follow them during their adventures to make sure they're alright. what? they've noticed? i- never mind..."

♡

AL-HAITHAM

about [name]:

"apologies traveler but, i am on a time crunch at the moment. [name]? did something happen to them- ah, never mind. your expression is too relaxed for anything bad to have happened to them while i was away. you want to talk about them...? well, ask away, i suppose."

chat: academic

"yes, [name] and i both studied at the akademiya. we were rivals at one point but, somewhere along the way, they had me hooked. looking at it from a much different perspective, i see now, that it was the best thing to have ever happened to me."

chat: knowledge

"nothing halts me from my thirst for knowledge. but, if anything comes close to it, it would be [name]. hm... no, i'd say they're the only one who could. nonetheless, they would never, seeing as they always praise and encourage me."

chat: rivalry

"general mahamatra? i wouldn't be surprised if he wanted [name]. first, after a position he was second best at, and now my lover? i'd like to see that fool try."

chat: reading

"comprehending every aspect of this world and it's secrets is a passion both [name] and i share. i'd have to admit, they're more into the pleasure of sparring over knowledge but, we do often spend our time reading together."

[ellecdc]

Baaaaabe 😫

Ive been sick for the last couple days, and as always, that first day was horrible. Ive had my brain legit decide it wants to inflate bigger than my skull capacity (long story short, pregnancy 🫡) and i got to re-experience that feeling for the first 12 hours 💀

BUT i came back and i was sooo excited for your updates!! They were soo good (please tell me theres a part 2 to that angst....pls 🥺) And i love our discussions in the comments 🫶

I do have another request though if you have the time love. Another possessive!wolfstar buuuttt..... make reader Jamie's sister (twins?)!! Its troublesome enough for James to keep Sirius' hands to himself, but full moon Rem?? He's a brick wall. Like somethings happening between the 2 and Jamie is chasing reader, then she spots Rem and hides behind him. James tries to reach for her and Rem is just kinda like "???? Excuse me, thats mine. Dont touch. James Fleamont Potter. DONT. TOUCH." without even knowing whats going on. James is incredulous (because thats HIS sister) and Siri is chuckling but it looks like Rem might actually bite Jamie's hand off so he moves between them to seperate them but Rem is also like "ExCuSe YOU??? Also mine. *to siri* dont touch him. *to James* dont touch them or you might not have all your fingers when you wake up!!"

And just the repercussions of this where James isnt allowed alone with either until a couple days passed the 🌕

Hope youre looking after yourself darling 🩵

I love James' sister trope - something about it screams fluff and perhaps a little angst but just in all the best ways. I would imagine his sister to be so much like him: mischievous, funny, and full of love. Thanks for requesting!!!

poly!wolfstar x potter sister!reader

There were quite a few perks that came along with being James Potter's twin sister. One said perk was having a built-in best friend from the moment you came into the world. Another was that whilst you were attending school, you had the benefit of no one being willing to mess with you on account of the company you kept - namely, your brother and his infamous friends who called themselves The Marauders.

What being James Potter's twin sister couldn't protect you from? James Potter.

What could protect you from being James Potter's twin sister? Being the girlfriend of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

You and James were leaving Care of Magical Creatures together, heading to meet up with Remus and Sirius near the Greenhouses when one Lily Evans walked by - graciously bestowing James the time of day for quite possibly the first time ever - when you decided that this was the perfect pranking opportunity.

You really couldn't be blamed for what happened next: it truly was a gift bestowed upon you by the great pranking gods, and who were you to deny it?

"Hello, Potter." Lily said, causing James to gasp dramatically.

"Hello, Lily! Beautiful day out today, innit?"

Lily couldn't help but snicker at the sickeningly wide grin that took over James' face.

"Oi, Jamie. I forgot to tell you: mum sent that rash cream you were asking for. She said to remind you it's only safe to put around your anus, not in it." You proclaimed loudly, pretending to read from a 'letter' your mother had sent.

The courtyard became incredibly quiet before what you recognized to be Barty Crouch Junior's laugh echoed the space, triggering the snickering of all those present.

"You are so dead!" James sneered and you didn't hesitate to take off in a sprint - knowing your brother was a mere few paces behind you.

"You slithering little snake! She finally starts coming around - are you kidding me!?" He shouted as you swerved between bodies standing in your way whilst he just barrelled right through them.

Suddenly, you saw salvation in the form of one Remus John Lupin.

Now, granted, Remus didn't always protect you from your squabbles with James. Part of the reason for that was because half of the time you sort of deserved it (much like today), and the other part was that he claimed he didn't know what proper protocol was in sibling relationships on account of him being an only child. Sirius, a brother himself, had no such qualms and always took your side.

However, you knew that the full moon was in a mere two more sleeps, meaning Remus was at his most protective (read: possessive) which did not distinguish James Potter as friend, sibling, nor pack.

Right now: James Potter was only a threat.

And, let's be honest, being James Potter's twin sister, and a girlfriend to Remus Lupin and Sirius black also meant you were mischievous as hell. So you had no trouble using this to your utmost advantage.

You squeaked in terror as you slid behind Remus' lanky frame a moment before James - the bastard - slammed into his form and all but bounced off of Remus. James was admittedly more muscular than Remus, but Remus' height and werewolf strength left him towering above James as the dumb sod picked himself up off the ground.

"What in the buggering hell is going on?" He spat at James as one of his arms wrapped behind him, shielding you from your fuming brother.

"That sneaky little witch just embarrassed me in front of Lily!" James barked, looking like he was still trying to figure out how to get around Remus in order to strangle you.

"Please," Sirius drawled as he walked over casually, "like you need any help in that department Prongs."

You tried to hide your snicker, but from Remus' glance at you through the corner of his eye, you knew he caught it.

"She told the entire courtyard I needed cream for a rash on my anus!"

Sirius doubled over in laughter and you preened when you noticed Remus let out a soft chuckle himself.

"It's not sodding funny you wanker! Lily spoke to me first today! I'm going to kill you!" James snarled, moving his attention from Sirius to you.

As James stepped forward menacingly, Remus grabbed the collar of his shirt. "Prongs, enough." He barked.

Sirius was still laughing when he moved to stand between Remus and James, releasing James' shirt from Remus' fist.

"Okay, down boy." Sirius snarked, patting James' shoulder consolingly.

"Oh, sod off." James muttered, elbowing Sirius as he moved to step away.

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding and tried to even out your breathing; lungs still burning from your run.

"You okay, dove?" Remus asked you so gently as he bent down to make eye contact with you. His face screamed love, attentiveness, and care, making you feel slightly guilty for having shoved him in the middle of your tomfoolery.

"I'm fine, Moons. Sorry for causing trouble." You answered solemnly.

His face picked up slightly at your words as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You wouldn't be you if you weren't causing trouble, love."

Your tender moment was interrupted by a yelp, causing the two of you to turn only to notice James and Sirius wrestling. James seemed to have gotten Sirius into a headlock, and the sod wasn't willing to tap out - still kicking and clawing at James in anyway he could.

"Oi!" Remus shouted as he plucked Sirius out of James' grasp and shoved him in the direction of the castle. James used his momentary distraction as an opportunity to set his sights back on you as he lunged, tackling you to the ground.

"Fuckin' hell Jamie! You weight a tonne!" You shouted, kneeing him in the gut. James doubled over and rolled onto his side in the fetal position.

You didn't even get a chance to right yourself before you were thrown over Remus' shoulder who was still shouting at Sirius to "get back to the dorm. The both of you are staying within my sights for the next foreseeable future" as you all left James with the wind knocked out of him, keeled over on the castle grounds.

[oneforthemunny]

how you like them apples |cowboy!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: you surprise eddie with his favorite fall treat, and, oh, is he surprised.

since i'm feeling so fall, i decided to write a ficlet around my love cowboy!eddie. also follows the lore that sweet girl is not the best cook lmao. super fluffy. genuinely nothing but the sweetest fluff and love.

Your head turned at the rumble of the truck, moving slowly down the gravel driveway towards the house. Eddie always drove much slower than you, always on to you about speeding down the gravel, flinging it everywhere. 

The red truck’s bed was filled with lumber, left over from the recent renovations the Ives’ family had done to their new fence, just up the road- well, that’s what Eddie always said, it was more like a good ten miles away. Irvine Ives had called Eddie up last night, asked him if he wanted it before he took it to the junkyard. He knew Eddie was repairing a patch in the fence a Bronco he was training had kicked out. 

“Back so soon?” You grinned, pressing a hand over your brows to shield you from the September sun. Not as bright as it was in June, but still unforgiving in the middle of the day. 

“Yep, wasn’t much, but I think I got what I needed.” Eddie hummed, turning the key and killing the ignition, cigarette still lit between his fingers. “Think I got enough to patch it though. Just gonna need to repaint it since it’s not the same kinda wood.” 

Your brows raised, walking over towards the driver’s side, leaning in towards the window. “I can help you with that.” You hummed, breathing in the cloud of smoke he exhaled with a content sigh. “I love to paint.” 

Eddie grinned back at you, a soft crease in his dimples that made your body buzz with excitement. “Yeah? We can go to town tomorrow if I get this done. Pick out a color.” 

“That sounds like fun.” You beam. “I was going to say we need to go to the grocery anyways, so that works out.” You hum, a large brown bag catching your attention, nestled beside Eddie in the passenger seat. 

“What’s that?” You ask, leaning on the door to see. “Apples?” 

“Yeah, Mrs. Ives insisted I take a few. Said their trees were overflowin’ with ‘em.” Eddie nodded towards the bag, lightly tapping your hand to move, opening the truck’s door. “Figure I’d give a few to Medusa. Try to do something with the rest, maybe.” 

You nodded slowly, wheels in your mind already spinning with an idea. Eddie handed you the apples, cradling the bottom until you got your grip on the heavy bag. “‘M gonna go start on this. Try to get it done today.” 

“Ok,” You hummed, hugging the apples to your chest. “Have fun, baby.” 

Eddie snorted in laughter, head ducking down, stealing a quick kiss from you. “I shouldn’t be too long.” He looked back at you, eyes narrowing in suspicion as you simply nodded, pulling the screen door open and slipping in the kitchen. 

Normally, you’d offer to come help him, sit with him and talk about nothing in particular, and hand him the tools while he worked. Not this time. You didn’t seem mad, or upset- really, you seemed perfectly happy. Which left him a little suspicious. 

The clanging of a large, steel pot falling on the floor soothed his worries, left him grinning to himself in humor as he started off to the barn. 

“Sift? What does- like move it around?” You muttered, brows pinched in concentration that was teetering on annoyance. Your eyes squinted in concentration, trying to decipher the loopy, old school cursive on the faded, yellowed recipe card in front of you. 

The first time you found the recipe box, it was buried under piles of other things, lost in the mess that was Eddie’s bachelor pad before you moved in- really, before you were in his life. His Mamaw Munson’s recipes, all her best dishes, all in one tin box. He sat in the kitchen with you between his legs, he’d poured over each one, told you which ones were his favorite, sometimes even added a little anecdote that had you beaming with joy. 

“Oh, this one was one of my favorites, baby,” Eddie had said, eyes lighting as they scanned over the card. 

“Apple Cobbler. She’d bake it in this cast iron skillet so it’d stay hot, and we’d put vanilla ice cream over it- holy shit, it was so good.” Eddie swallowed his drool, he could practically taste it still. “She used to have an apple tree before it got blown away by this bad tornado one year. But she’d go and pick them every fall when they were ripe, and she’d always make it for us. It was my favorite thing.” 

Looking at the recipe in front of you, you could see why Eddie loved it so much. It did sound really good. 

It was just very complicated. 

“Take your peeled- shit,” You looked at the sliced apples, still with the skin on, in the bowl in front of you. “Why wouldn’t you say that before I added the other stuff, Mamaw?” You huffed, pulling the drawer open for the whittling knife. 

The kitchen was a disaster, sticky and flour filled, bowls piling high in the sink; and you hadn’t even gotten halfway through the recipe. Grabbing a handful of the butter and sugar rolled apples, you placed them on the counter’s free space, carefully carving around the edge where the skin was. 

This isn’t too bad, not taking as long as I thought it would, You thought to yourself, finally in a grove of cutting around the skin, tossing the apple back in the mixture. 

A smoky, sugary, thick smell alerted your senses on your last few apples. Turning, you saw the filling that was supposed to be simmering, now bubbling with thick, burnt globs in the pot. You grabbed the handle with a panic, shoving it to the free stove eye, turning the hot one off. 

The mixture, which was supposed to be a light caramel brown, was a deep dark molasses shade. You lifted the whisk, cringing at the toughness of the gooey substance. “It’s ok,” You shook your head lightly, looking at the clock. “That’s- whatever. It’ll bake and soften in the oven.” 

Pulling out the pan, you shoved the now skinless apples to the bottom, scraping the hardened filling mixture on top. The wooden spoon nearly broke trying to mix it in, sticking out of the cemented filling. 

You could see Eddie through the small window over the sink, down to the last stake in the fence, already beginning the wiring. He’d be done soon, this had to cook for forty-five minutes, and the kitchen was a disaster. 

“It’s fine, it’ll be fine.” You muttered to yourself, pouring the batter on top, not bothering to smooth it out like the instructions said- there was no time for that Mamaw. Instead, you slid it in the oven, turning the timer. 

Eddie came in just as you’d finished putting your last dish away. Your body surged with excited heat, smug that you might actually get away with your little surprise- well, as long as he didn’t go to the back porch, where the burnt filling was in the pan, cemented in. 

“Mm,” Eddie sniffed the air, sugary and a little… smoky? “Smells good in here, baby.” He gave you a dazzling smile, hoping you wouldn’t pick up the hesitancy in his tone. 

It was no secret that you weren’t exactly the best cook. Not that Eddie cared, but after you almost burnt the house down making lasagna, he was a little weary when you’d cook. 

“Does it?” Your eyes lit up, filled with excitement that he wouldn’t dare take from you. Whatever you’d made, no matter how charred or inedible it was, he’d scarf it down with a grin if it’d make you happy. Even if it gave him food poisoning like the chicken ala king did. 

“Yeah, what’re you makin’?” Eddie reached for the oven’s handle. 

You pushed it closed with a click of your tongue, smacking his hands away. “Don’t.” You shook your head. “It’s a surprise.” 

And you were true to your word. It certainly was a surprise. 

When you placed the concoction in front of Eddie, grinning so big, so proudly, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but grin back. “Wow, you, uh, you made this for me, sweetheart?” He smiled, eyeing the plate in front of him. 

“Yes,” You giggled, topping the runny dough on top with a scoop of ice cream. “You said it was your favorite, and when you brought the apples home, I just thought I’d surprise you.” You chirped, sliding him a spoon. “I followed your Mamaw’s recipe.”

“You spoil me, sweet thing. You know that?” Eddie smiled, heart swelling at the sentiment. You really did spoil him, were too good and too sweet to him- even if you’re cooking wasn’t as good. 

“Try it.” You sat next to him, bursting with excitement. “I know it won’t be as good as hers, but I think I did a good job on it.” 

Eddie looked down at the plate, swallowing the dread building in his throat. He dug his spoon, sawing it through the thick middle until it finally came out in a clean cut. Taking a large scoop of ice cream, hoping it would mask the flavor, he took a bite. 

“Is it good?” You leaned forward, eyes rounded in hopefulness, scanning his features eagerly. 

Eddie hummed, his teeth cemented together from the filling, sure his crown might pop out from the material. The filling was tough, the dough undercooked and lacked something that made it rise, but the apples were delicious- just like his Mamaw’s except…

“Oh,” Eddie winced before he could help it, finger digging in his mouth. He pulled out the hard thing that was wedged in his molar, turning it with a brow raised. “Is that- is that a seed?” 

Your face fell, looking at the seed back at Eddie. “Well, yeah, from the apples.” You said, heart skinning in your chest. “I didn’t- it didn’t say to take them out or anything, so I just left them in.”

Eddie swallowed, stomach turning lightly at the bite. “No, it’s- I mean, it’s good, baby. Some people take them out, but- no, this is, it’s really good.” He nodded, smiling at you gently. “‘S really good.” 

“Really?” You squeaked. “Better than the muffins?” 

“Yes,” Eddie said truthfully, whole heartedly. That was the truth, this was so much better than the mess that was the blueberry muffins. “So much better. This is really good, sweetheart. You really surprised me. Too sweet of ya to do this.” 

You squealed, hugging him tightly, legs straddling his waist in the chair, lips pressing kisses over his cheeks, his chin, his lips. Eddie’s arms wrapped around you, squeezing you into him, playfully nipping at your jaw to hear you squeal, before his lips caught yours, pulling you into a heated kiss. He’d eat all your burnt cobblers if it meant you’d be happy like this, if it made you this happy. 

[nmn-yty]

— ๋࣭ ⭑࿐ first time ｡o♡⋆˚｡⋆.

read part 1: here!!!

pairing: lee know x reader

summary: caring for a bunny seemed harder than you thought

tags: 「SFW! fluff! (ik the title is misleading but i promise this is all fluff!) | hybrid!lee know | referring to lee know as minho | soft!lee know (he's even cuter in this one) | hyper lee know>< | bunny bath time! | the neediest bunny ever | another sweet little kiss! | reader has no gender」

word count: 1.7k

a/n: back at it again! ik ive said it so many times throughout my blog but im truly thankful for all the likes and reblogs(◞‸◟)♡ this will not be the last of my bunny lee know endeavor but stay tuned for more hybrid, skz, and kpop stories in the meantime! also keep in mind that ive never owned any pets so the animal behavior is based on memory of things ive seen online, dont come for me pls>< anyways, i hope this one lives up to the hype of the first part, enjoy!!! (also i apologize for not posting sooner><)

+ stylized lowercase, missing punctuation (not done on purpose), and minimal revisions

a few days in and the days seemed to get harder and harder for you. not because minho was causing you any trouble, but because the fluttery feeling in your stomach kept growing the more you spent time with him. it was scary how perfect he was in every way.

you were sitting on your couch enjoying a nice hot drink, when the familiar sound of thumping on the wood floor caught your attention. you looked down to find a playful bunny minho. he was scurrying around your feet, even moving his paws to your legs.

"what's wrong?" you set your drink down on the table in front of you.

minho kept on pawing at your legs. you reached down to pick him up, placing him in your lap.

"i can't understand you when you're in the form, you know?"

he looked up at you with a nonchalant expression, you expected nothing out of him. before you knew it, you had a hybrid minho sitting in your lap bridal style, hands wrapped around your neck. the weight and size change startled you, but he loved to tease you and transform whenever he pleased.

"can i please go outside for a bit?" he was really bouncy and sounded out of breath. you had to remind yourself that he was a wild animal. although you took him in to stay in your house, his animal instincts couldn't be suppressed.

"okay, but only for a little-" he cut your sentence off by changing back into a bunny, still knocking you off guard.

he scurried off your lap and towards the back hallway, scratching at the door for you to open it. he looked back at you with those big dark eyes. they always sparkled perfectly in the right lighting. seeing him being all hyper as an animal was truly so endearing. you've always wanted someone like him in your life. the universe definitely planned out your lives to be intertwined.

you rolled your eyes from his fast movements and got up. the second you opened the door wide enough for him to fit, he dashed out onto the grass. it has still been snowy for the past couple of days, but today the grass held a light layer of snow from earlier that day.

he was hopping around the entire yard, sniffing around bushes, chewing on some of the obtainable food he could get his mouth on. you could see the footprints and tracks beginning to circle around the snow. the whole surface of your yard was being fully inspected by him.

you couldn't help but sit down by the steps of your back porch. hugging your knees in admiration, you followed minho's path all throughout the whole time you were out there. you couldn't help but get flustered about the racing thoughts in your mind. something as simple as watching him be comfortable in his environment made you feel at ease.

what you didn't know was minho found himself wanting to be human more for the both of you. it was exhausting for him at times, but he couldn't help but laugh with you, smile with you, feel with you. he never got to experience these moments with anyone before. he wanted each adventure with you to last for hours.

he looked up to find you staring at him, which made his heart race faster than it normally should. draining energy fast, he flopped on his back, waving his paws and feet in the air. getting a chuckle out of you from the distance, he felt satisfied. the sudden urge to dig overwhelmed his thoughts, getting back to his feet and digging straight down from where he was standing.

luckily, you had your mind to distract you from his actions. he started to go feral, getting the dirt and snow all over his face.

drifting away from your daydream, you found your white fluffy bunny turning brown from the dirt and snow.

"minho, no!" you quickly ran over to him, making him realize he was likely in big trouble. thinking two steps ahead, he dove out of your attempt to grab him. shocked and stunned, you still chased after him. he was running steadily back towards the house. the universe was on your side though, as the back door was closed and all minho could do was try to reach up and grab the handle. however, being in his small form, he failed miserably.

"cmon silly," you bent down to grab the squirming animal in your arms, the warmth from your body making him docile and shut down.

once you got to the bathroom upstairs, you gently set minho on the floor. his eyes were slowly closing and he tried his best to keep them open again. before he could fall asleep, he jolted himself awake, which unfortunately turned him into his hybrid form.

"do you want me to take my clothes off so you can bathe me?"

his question made you whip your head around in shock, stuttering nonsense to try and distract yourself from the image of himself being naked in front of you.

"dont be difficult... turn into a bunny so i can wash you quickly."

he let out a small whine, almost like it was his plan all along to get dirty and have this scenario go his way.

you crossed your arms and gave him a dissatisfied look. you weren't really mad at him, you just wanted the day to end quicker so you two could snuggle in bed together.

one big movement turned him small again, he hopped onto your legs, as you had knelt down to get comfortable. you turned on the water in your bathtub and ran some warm water about two or three inches from the bottom. placing him inside the tub, you grabbed a cup to scoop up the water onto his body. the first rinse was quick, he even shook some water off himself like a dog which made you smile.

the scrubbing process also went by fast, working your fingers gently through his coat, the dirt coming off completely. you picked up the cup again, filling it with water. washing the soap away, he shook his body again, trying to dry up as fast as he could.

"calm down minho! ill dry you off in a second."

the water beginning to flow down the drain, you picked up a sopping wet minho from the tub and placed him on the rug next to you. the towel to dry him was hanging on the side of the tub. you laid it flat against your lap, picking him up again and placing him on top of the towel.

you wrapped him up in the towel, trying your best not to cover up his face. you patted and rubbed the cloth into his body, making sure to cover all the spots. his ears, his tail, and his paws all becoming dry and fluffy again.

he hopped off of your lap, turning to his hybrid form. this time you expected something from that big of a leap. you were starting to learn and master his behaviors. he was sat on the floor facing you. for some reason, his hair and ears were still wet in this form. he held one of his ears out, squeezing it to wring out the remaining water off himself. you got to your knees and threw the towel over his head. going a little harder this time, you scrubbed his hair dry to the best of your ability. you noticed him closing his eyes in comfort, especially when you got to his ears.

he looked up at you through his messy hair. he hummed softly, he was so happy you were taking such good care of him. not noticing at all, when you removed the towel his bunny ears went away. he was noticeably more dry and your job was done. you turned around slightly to drape the towel on the tub again.

he let out a cute yawn, so ready to flop into bed and get some sleep. when you turned back around you couldn't help but notice some brown specks on his face. did he have freckles this whole time and you were just too star struck to notice? you reached out to rub his face, making him freeze and have his full semi-conscious attention to your actions. the specks turned to brown streaks against his skin.

"youve been digging so much in the dirt, come here."

he scooted over to you, patiently waiting for anything to happen next. you realized now his nose and cheeks were lightly covered in dirt. you reached over for a new towel and quickly turned the faucet on to run some water on it. swiping the warm cloth on his cheeks, his face became very pink. you didn't know if it was because of the pressure you applied to his face, or if he was actually having some emotional reaction to this.

his gaze was so sensual, almost like his mind had gone to mush and he could only display emotions of pure submission. his thoughts became chaotic, trying to resist the urge to tackle you and have you all to himself.

after a while you could feel your face burning up, scared about any of his next moves or words.

"why are you looking at me like that?" the dirt was almost gone. you moved closer to his face, only inches away in order to get the last bits off.

minho didn't answer you, instead he stared more intensely at you, patiently waiting for you to finish. putting the towel down, you gently rubbed the wetness off his face. even more skin to skin contact was making him lose control. the hue of pink showing from his face becoming almost cartoon like.

"mm tired," his eyes began to droop again. he wanted his last conscious thought to be that he was secure next to you. as dramatic as ever, he laid out his body in your lap, slowly beginning to drift off and finally recharge.

this feeling was starting to become a natural occurrence in your daily lives. whether he was a small bunny, a cute hybrid, or a human who could actually sweep you off your feet, you had him. he felt safe around you and wanted to be near you. using one hand to meet his hand, rubbing it gently to soothe him, you used your other hand to play with his hair. even as a human, he was still soft and cuddly. you bent down to place a small kiss on his head, making him nuzzle himself deeper into you.

part 3 is up! click here!!!

♥︎taglist: @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lunathewonyoungstan @syedazarintasnim @yourlocalstayyxi @mmarusa @yukichan67 @qwonyoung23 @cupidcures @verynormalsstuff @leezanetheofficial

© nmn-yty ★ 6.07.2024

[pjsfvs]

relaxing - sunghoon hc

paring: bf!sunghoon x gf!afab!reader

genre: smut

warnings: smut, fluff, smoking weed, true love, curvy reader, Protected sex, fingering, hair pulling, shot gunning

word count: 4k

summary: You and Sunghoon spend a rainy weekend in his basement smoking and relaxing to the sound of the rain, which leads to a night of high love making.

a/n: i got some requests in my inbox but i was already writing this so ill write for those and post them either later today or tomorrow because i wont have plans :3 also sunghoon is my bias but ive never wrote something for him which is shocking 😭

The sound of the rain was what set the mood, the millions of drops pattering against the high windows of Sunghoon's basement sounding through the atmosphere. You laid on your back against the soft cushions of the couch, your eyes closed in a peaceful state as you waited patiently for your boyfriend.

"Alright, babe, we've got weed, video games, and movies; what do you want to do?" Sunghoon spoke cheerfully, closing the basement door behind him as he bounded down the wooden stairs.

"Hm, how about we go for a walk?" Giggling, your body bounced lightly as Sunghoon sat on the opposite end of the couch, lifting your sock clad feet onto his lap.

"Yeah, and catch a cold while we're at it too," He chuckled, rubbing your calf before taking in your appearance. 

You were dressed in a simple pair of grey leggings, which make your ass look great, and a worn v-cut graphic-tee with the Pepsi logo across the chest. Even when you dressed so simple, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and he often wondered what he did to have someone so wonderful, other than Jake, in his life.

You opened your dazzling brown eyes, locking your gaze with his. "Why are you looking at me like that, silly?" You giggled, sticking your tongue out as you propped your head on a couch pillow.

"Just thinking about of amazing you are, dork." He countered, squeezing your leg lovingly as he watched your cheeks get a little warm.

"Gosh, you're too much for me," You sighed, covering your face with your hands before peeking out between your fingers, "Let's get high."

Sunghoon smiled, taking his signature white headphones from around his neck and placing them on the coffee table on front of them. "Shot gunning?"

"Shot gunning."

Shot gunning was your preferred way of getting high, ever since meeting Sunghoon that is. The first time you had tried weed, which actually was with Sunghoon, you inhaled too hard and ended up choking on your own breath. Sunghoon insisted that you didn't have to smoke just because he did it, but you insisted on trying it which led to him teaching you a different way of achieving the high without having to touch the blunt herself.

Once everything was set up Sunghoon took the blunt between his finger and thumb before striking the lighter in his other hand, bringing the small flame to the tip and watching it light up. He put the lighter away and took the first hit, breathing deeply and closing his eyes before exhaling, the smoke bellowing out of his parted lips and nose. A few seconds passed before he opened his eyes again, turning his head towards you.

"Ready?"

He watched as you bit your lower lip and nodded, sitting yourself up on the couch before kneeling next to him, their faces level with each other as your eyes stayed locked.

"I need to hear you say you're ready, beautiful."

You felt your face heat up and your heart swell, you always loved how caring he was about making sure you weren't feeling pressured. "I'm ready, Hoonie."

A small smile graced his lips before he brought the blunt up again, taking another slow drag and putting the blunt down, holding his breath. You parted your plump lips and Sunghoon did the same before blowing the smoke into your mouth. The smoke filled your lungs as you breathed in slowly, letting your eyes flutter shut before exhaling the same way, feeling your nerves begin to calm. As you opened your eyes your gaze locked with Sunghoon, who had a goofy smirk on his face.

"I never get tired of seeing that." He grinned, his heart nearly skipping a beat at the half-lidded stare you were giving him. The glow of the various lava lamps he had in the basement illuminated your face in a way that made it seem like you belonged in a pin-up poster, too perfect to be sitting in front of him right now.

"I never get tired of being shot gunned by you." You wistfully replied, a small smile tugging at your lips before another wave of heat rose to your cheeks. "Do you mind if I try something?" Your voice came out small, your gaze averting to the floor as you processed what you were going to do.

"Yeah- I mean, no, go for it," Sunghoon stuttered slightly, an embarrassed smile taking over the proud grin he had.

At his approval, you maneuvered your leg across his thighs before kneeling in front of him, straddling his waist as you sat in his lap. The new, and better, position allowed them both to be able to face each other without having to break their necks to face each other or Sunghoon to turn away to flick the ashes off.

"I-I just thought this would be easier," You spoke lightly, your hands picking nervously at each other in your lap. Sure, you had been dating for nearly a year, but that didn't stop your nerves from spiking each time you went out on a limb.

Sunghoon felt his cheeks set themselves on fire at the new position, having so much more to worry about than getting a cramp in his neck or side. "Y-Yeah, no, this is great, way better than before, actually." He smiled softly, his left hand resting on your hip lovingly as comfort.

After taking a moment to settle themselves, they began the process again; Sunghoon breathing in the smoke before blowing it into your mouth, allowing you to take in the high as well. He watched as you tilted your head back, sighing the smoke out into the air above them to avoid blowing it back into Sunghoon's face.

Sunghoon tracked your movement, his eyes trailing along your neck, taking in your smooth skin, before delving lower into what the cut of your t-shirt allowed him to see. He took in the details of your collarbones, just slightly protruding out, and the view of your breasts, which were slightly elevated due to the bra you wore. He wouldn't consider himself a person who gets horny while high, but with the view that was given to him in this very moment he could make an exception.

Thus, the process continued, rotating until the blunt was nothing but ash, leaving you and Sunghoon in a haze of smoke and lust as they grew closer to each other; you sat comfortably in Sunghoon's lap as he held onto your hips, his hands casually gripping your curves. Your foreheads rested on each-others, your noses slightly bumping as you relished in the high together, needing nothing but each other and the constant downpour of the rain.

"Sunghoon..." You breathed, your eyes staying closed as you played with the hairs at the nape of his neck lovingly.

Sunghoon hummed, not feeling the need to use words as he steadily continued to trace patterns on your skin.

"Can I wear your hoodie?" Your voice was small and calm as you placed your hands on his shoulders, lifting your head back to open your eyes.

Sunghoon felt his eyebrows furrow as he opened his eyes, meeting his girlfriend's blown-wide pupils. "Are you sure you won't get too hot?" He mused, stilling his thumbs against your sides.

You huffed lightly, a cute pout on your lips, "It's always pretty cold in here, besides; I'll just take off my shirt, see?" As if to prove your point, or rather claim, you reached for the hem of your shirt and swiftly pulled it over your head, dropping it to the floor behind you, leaving you in a simple black bra, goosebumps immediately rising against your skin from the change in temperature.

Sunghoon felt a stir in his lower stomach, his eyes quickly flicking to your breasts that rested in the cups of your bra, your chest moving in tune with the breaths you were taking. "Y-You didn't have to, you know?" He gaped, scanning over the new flesh that lacked all the marks he now wanted to make.

"I know," You smirked, bringing your face to his ear, "I could feel that you've been staring for a while now, I just wanted to give you a better view." You murmured seductively before nibbling at his earlobe, causing his grip to tighten on your hips with a gasp.

"In that case you're gonna have to help me now." Sunghoon moaned, his hips lifting slightly to rub against your core easily through your leggings.

Your movements were slow and languid, trailing kisses from his jaw to his lips, catching them in a deep kiss as you moved herself closer to be directly in his lap. Sunghoon allowed his hands to move from your hips to your waist, caressing the soft, plump skin he was met with, the warmth welcoming his hands.

Moments like this were quite possibly his favorite; the slow, lethargic kisses they both shared, even when they were both sober. He loved the feel of you pressed against him, no insecurities or worried clouding your judgement as you allowed yourself to be free and be comfortable with him, which only made you hotter.

"So, what do you say?" You finally spoke as their lips parted, ghosting against each other, "Can I?" You gazed at him with a fire of seductive confidence behind your eyes, the look only fueling the desire Sunghoon had to take you right in that moment.

He was practically rendered breathless from staring at you, almost forgetting to answer your awaiting question. "Definitely."

You engulfed his lips into a slow, yet heated kiss; lips smacking and tongues clashing in an instant of lust before they both broke away, a new spark igniting within the both of them. You took a second to stare at each other, breathing heavily before they broke into frantic movements.

Sunghoon shifted sporadically, pulling the hoodie up at any angle he could, nearly getting it stuck on his head and glasses as you frantically struggled to get your bra off, trying your best to keep your balance as Sunghoon wiggled and jerked, muttering and cursing here and there. The red death trap finally released its hold on Sunghoon, and he was met with the glorious sight of you dangling your bra on your finger, using your other hand to muffle your bubbling giggles.

"I'm glad you find me funny." He readjusted his glasses and took your hand away from your mouth, leaning himself forward to place a kiss on your lips.

"And I'm glad you don't mind me crushing you," You giggled again, nuzzling your nose against his own, causing him to blush before sucking his teeth at you.

"You could never." He murmured, kissing your cheek, then neck, before following up with another kiss on your lips, "You're perfect, besides, more cushion for the pushin'." As he said this he moved his hands to your ass, giving it a generous squeeze and earning himself a squeak of surprise.

"God, you're a dork." You sighed blissfully as moved his hands to your chest, massaging your breasts while he worked on decorating your neck in red. You felt the texture of his tongue run along a particularly sensitive part of your neck, causing you to shiver and his lips to curl into a smile before he sucked on the portion of skin.

"As long as I'm your dork, I'm okay with that."

He continued to litter your neck and chest with open-mouthed kisses, pinching your nipples teasingly before rolling them between his forefinger and thumb, hearing your gasps of pleasure as you gently tugged at his hair. Moving his head lower, he placed a few kisses at the top of your breasts before taking your right nipple into his mouth, licking tentatively at the hardening bud, still twisting at the unoccupied one.

You whimpered lightly, tilting your head back faintly as you held the back of his head, grinding down on the hardening bulge in his jeans for much needed friction. You felt him groan against your skin, lifting his hips to press into your core as you continued to grind onto him.

Without a moment to spare, Sunghoon moved on to your other nipple, giving it the same treatment as the right while he used his right hand to travel down your side, reaching the hem of the leggings. Before he could move any further, he felt you hand grab his, lifting it away from your hip.

"Nuh uh, shirt off first, you gotta finish this level before moving on, Hoonie," You taunted breathlessly, a small smirk grazing your lips as he released your breast with a small pop.

"Oh, I love when you speak video game," He groaned softly, flashing you a smile as he leaned away from you, reaching behind him to pull off his t-shirt and toss it off the side of the couch. "Now, pants?"

"Pants." You nodded, pushing yourself off of his lap to stand, allowing him to do the same.

Sunghoon's hands eagerly went to his belt buckle, rushing to undo the buckle and get the slightly tighter pants off of him, while you turned your back to him; bending over to give him a show as you pulled your leggings off, grinning as you heard Sunghoon groan.

"Leggings on you are a weapon to me, babe." He huffed in success as he finally pushed off his jeans, kicking them off in a pile behind him before coming face to face with you again.

You stared at each other for a heartbeat before Sunghoon chuckled, "Should we take off our underwear too before we go back to sitting?"

You thought for a second before huffing out a laugh, "Yeah, we probably should."

After taking off their underwear they resumed the previous position on the couch, kissing passionately as you hovered over his hardened cock, brushing against it every now and again with your wet cunt causing Sunghoon to shiver. He slid his hand between both of their bodies, using his finger to delve between your lower lips, feeling your wetness collect on his fingers. You moaned into the kiss, feeling your body shiver in excitement as his finger prodded at your slit before slowly sliding into your pussy; pumping a few times before he added a second, feeling your walls stretch around him.

"Sunghoon..." You moaned softly once you broke the kiss, resting your forehead against his as he continued to finger you, feeling the digits slightly curl inside of you. You gasped, shortly realizing what he was searching for as he picked up the pace, his thumb starting to rub small circles on your clit.

"Almost..." He murmured, keeping his eyes on your face as he curled his fingers again.

You inhaled sharply, tilting your head back as a loud moan escaped your lips. "Sunghoon!"

"There we go." Sunghoon grinned as he continued to thrust his fingers into your warmth, feeling your juices coat his digits as you hovered above his lap. He felt your walls clench as your hips bucked into his hand, moving his thumb faster across the sensitive bud of nerves; watching as your lips stayed parted to accommodate for the moans spilling out, eyelashes resting against the tops of your cheeks.

Your entire being exuded bliss, borderline pornographic as Sunghoon felt himself grow harder at the sight, if that was even possible at this point.

"H-Hoonie, I'm close-" You whimpered, your fingers finding their way into his hair as you leaned your head into his shoulder, tugging at the black strands while moaning into his skin, feeling the knot tighten within your abdomen.

"Come on baby, cum for me," He moaned, feeling your thighs begin to shake as your moans became constant.

As he pressed his fingers into your g-spot you let out a loud moan, shaking as your walls pulsed and convulsed around his fingers. Sunghoon continued to slowly pump his fingers inside of you, easing you down from your climax as he felt you panting against his neck, leaving small kisses against the warmth of his skin.

After a moment you sat up once again, gazing into his eyes with nothing but pure love and admiration before pulling him into a slow kiss. "Now it's your turn," You murmured against his lips, a smile growing on your own as you reached for the signature hoodie that started all of this. You easily slid the article over your body, feeling the slightly scratchy fabric of the inside envelope you in warmth and the scent of Sunghoon before digging around in the front pocket to take out a condom he usually had stashed there for 'safe keeping'.

Sunghoon was breathless as he took in the heavenly sight before him; his girlfriend with your slightly messed up hair and flustered face wearing his hoodie, his hoodie, slightly large over your frame with nothing underneath as you held out a condom. Sure, you had worn his hoodie numerous times before, but this was a sight unlike any other, and boy was he enjoying it. He was snapped out of his trance once he felt your hand wrap around his cock, pumping it gingerly as he shivered, not realizing how touch deprived he felt. "F-Fuck," He breathed, rutting his hips into your hand subconsciously.

You gasped lightly, the sound of his moan shooting directly to your core as you continued to pump him a bit faster, collecting the drops of precum that leaked out of the tip with your thumb and spreading it around.

"I-If you keep it up we're gonna have to wait fifteen minutes to do this again." He whimpered out a laugh, his hand wrapping around your wrist to stop your movements with a serious look. You nodded, chewing your lower lip before tearing open the packet, taking the lubricated condom between your fingers before moving off of his lap a bit to slide it along his dick; the rubber coating him almost like a second skin.

Moving yourself closer to him once again, you took his length in your hand to line him up with your slit, feeling the tip rub slightly against your pussy lips with a small moan. "Ready?"

Sunghoon nodded up at you, his hands holding your hips for support as you hovered above him, so close yet still so far.

"I need to hear you say you're ready, handsome," You breathed, a light of playfulness shining behind your eyes.

"I'm ready, baby," He practically groaned, making a mental note to get back at you for making him wait.

Nodding, you slowly slid yourself down on his cock, feeling his girth stretch your walls slightly as you continued to go down on him; a moan escaping both of your lips once your pelvises met.

Sunghoon bit his lip, fighting the urge to press your to his body and fuck you relentlessly as he felt you clench around him. You let out a small breath before steadying yourself against his lap, resting your hands on his shoulders and lifting your hips until only the head was inside of you before sinking down once again, a rush of pleasure coursing through your like electricity.

You continued the motion, speeding up once you heard Sunghoon's soft groan of pleasure; his hands helping you rise and fall against his cock at a steady pace. Opening your eyes, you looked at Sunghoon, watching as his stare was focused on his lap; watching as your pussy slid along his cock with ease. You brought your hands to the sides of his face, gently bringing his head up to meet your eyes, getting lost in the chocolate brown pools surrounded by the rim of his glasses; their breaths mingling together.

Within a heartbeat their lips smashed together, soft moans and whimpers escaping the both of them as you rode him faster, feeling his fingers squeeze against your hips as he pulled you into him. He pulled you down he thrusted his hips up out of instinct, moaning at the deeper contact he was able to reach.

"Fuck! R-Right there Sunghoon!" You mewled, gripping his shoulders tighter as you bounced, feeling his cock press against your g-spot as he thrusted into you again.

"Go-od you're so tight," He panted as he pulled you harder against him, feeling your walls clench and throb around him, feeling a familiar knot slowly begin to form in the pit of his stomach. "Hold on."

"W-Wha-" You started before you were suddenly pushed to the side, laying on your back while Sunghoon hovered over you, hiking your legs onto his hips and resting himself on his forearms for balance. He pushed himself deeper inside of your dripping pussy, causing you to moan out in pleasure at the new, and better, angle. "Oh, God!"

Sunghoon started out with a few slow thrusts before picking up speed, the sound of your moans and the lewdness of your skin slapping together filling the basement.

"You're so perfect, writhing under me like that, god you're perfect." He murmured against your ear, his words enunciated by his thrusts.

Your hands tangled themselves throughout his black locks, tugging harshly as you squeezed your legs around his hips. Moaning loudly, Sunghoon snapped his hips into yours with a near animalistic growl as he fucked you deeper, compensating for the speed.

"Hoon! Sunghoon, I-" You whimpered, your head pressing into the couch as you arched your body into his, feeling him continuously graze your g-spot with ease.

He sat up, much to your displeasure as your hands fell from his hair and took a moment to take in your position; your body bouncing against each of his thrusts as the hoodie rose up against your stomach, your breasts bouncing underneath the fabric freely while your face was wrapped in an expression of pure pleasure, eyes screwed shut and plump lips open to compensate for the moans that spilled out. He slid a hand down to your clit, rubbing the nub in quick circles in time with his thrusts, cursing when your pussy clenched around his cock once more.

"I know, cum for me beautiful, just for me," He moaned, putting off his own climax to get you to reach your climax first; a gentleman as always.

You felt the pressure in your stomach tighten before snapping completely, your eyes squeezing shut as you came against his cock. You came with a high-pitched moan of his name, your back arching slightly as he continued to thrust inside of you, helping you ride out your climax.

"I- fuck, I'll never get tired of seeing that," Sunghoon grunted, leaning over your body again as his own thrusts began to grow faster and sloppier, burying his head within the crook of your neck, sucking at your supple skin. "God you feel so good."

"G-Go on baby, cum, it's your turn," You moaned, holding him close to you as you raked your nails across his shoulders, bracing yourself against his relentless thrusts.

Sunghoon gave a few more hard thrusts before his hips stuttered, spilling his seed inside of the condom with a loud moan into your neck. He continued to thrust slowly, riding out his high as you whispered words of comfort, lightly running your fingers across his scalp as he panted heavily.

After a few moments of comforting silence Sunghoon slowly pulled out of you, going to dispose of the used condom before walking back to the couch; pulling on his once discarded boxers and t-shirt with a small smile on his lips. "Come on cutie, let's get you situated," He hummed, swiftly picking up your panties before dangling them in front of you.

"My legs feel like gel-o," You moaned, covering your face with your hands, the sleeves of his hoodie over them like mitts.

"Alright, you get recovery time but remember what they taught us in health class-"

"Yeah, yeah, STI's and all that," You interrupted, snatching the underwear from him as you slid them up your legs, "Cuddle while I recover, Mr. Health Enforcer?"

Chuckling lightly, Sunghoon nodded and sat on the couch, laying back on the opposite end before your maneuvered yourself on top of him; resting your head on his chest while your legs entwined.

"You know," He started, allowing his hands to move to your lower back lovingly, "You look really hot when you have my hoodie on, especially like that."

"I bet that's just the high talking." You murmured, closing your eyes to focus on the beat of his heart through his shirt.

"No, never. You always look hot to me, the hoodie just made it better because its mine, and you're mine, so it's a double whammy." He paused, furrowing his eyebrows, trying to find the right words to say. "You're not hot, actually, you're beautiful, more beautiful than words can describe, and a photo can capture. I love you because you're just, so... Indescribable."

You felt tears prick at your eyes as your heart swelled at his words, snuggling yourself closer to him with a small smile, "And I love you because you're so describable; so real, tangible, there. There are so many words to describe you I'd have to learn all the languages to use them all, and even then I'd be missing some. Every word comes so close yet so far to describing you yet they're all so valid because you're you, you're here, you're real."

Sunghoon squeezed you tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, "I love you so much."

"I love you too."