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asahicore · 2 years

Text

cherry pits - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. dad!sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. Your alarmingly empty bank account forces you to find a last-minute summer job so that you can afford a trip with your friends. The extremely handsome customer that comes into the store just happens to be a young single dad who's renovating the old house next to yours. The tension that settles between the two of you as you start helping him fix up his house soon becomes unbearable, but it's all one-sided anyway, right?

(Spoiler: wrong.)

genre. DILF AUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!, neighbors au, s2l, summer au, slight age gap (reader is 21 and hoon 26), reader is so down bad over sunghoon its actually crazy but also extremely relatable cause this is sunghoon we're talking about, fluff and smut, sex gets freakyyy ngl

word count. 12.9k

a/n. hey sisters had no time to write anything this week so i am coming back (everybody boos) with a repost yayyy!!! i actually love this story idkw i just find it fun so i hope you guys will enjoy rereading / reading it !!!! as always let me know ur thoughts.. even if they're just incomprehensible screaming (bad or good).. im happy w anything ok bye!!!

You’ve always wondered about the ratio of cherry to pit. Such a big pit for so little flesh, isn’t it? Yet that’s never stopped you from biting into the small fruit, eating what you could and spitting out the unwanted part. You actually rather enjoy this whole process. Bite, eat, spit. You could repeat this with huge bowls of cherries at a time until they upset your stomach and you had to stop for your own good.

Bite, eat, spit is exactly what you’re doing when, with a trembling finger, you finally brave to open your banking app and check your balance. It’s the beginning of summer, and after two semesters of intense studying and too-much-coffee drinking, you think you deserve three long months of doing nothing but hanging out in your childhood bedroom and eating the food your parents buy and make. You’re especially looking forward to the vacation in Mexico you have planned with your friends at the end of August.

One look at your bank account and your dreams of white beaches and seas so blue you couldn’t tell them apart from the sky shatter around you, the sad, low numbers on the screen sneering at you mockingly. You were sure you had saved enough money from part-time jobs and generous relatives, but now you regret all of those night-outs and lazy takeaways. If you had cut down on those, maybe you wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of finding a summer job at the last minute, which you would definitely have to do if you wanted to eat something on that dear beach of yours and not just starve to death under the glaring sun.

That was it - tomorrow, you’d go and get a job. Today, however, you’d enjoy your last day of respite and eat some more cherries, or maybe make some jam and a pie so your parents wouldn’t chide you for eating them all, and then go pick some more from the three trees in your backyard. You’d sit outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun while you read or, if you couldn’t be asked, while you listened to the bustle of the old and worn-down house next door being renovated. You’re surprised someone had the courage to buy it and give it a new life, but you assume that’s the kind of courage that comes with having time and money.

Yesterday night, you’d heard a little girl playing outside until her mom called her in saying it was time to go, so you made up a story of your neighbors being newlyweds that had decided they’d had enough of the city and wanted to raise their daughter in a calmer town far from busy streets and loud honks. You could bring them some cherries, maybe in jam or pie form, as a housewarming gift.

Unfortunately, the day passed and you were too busy doing nothing to actually get around to baking, so you decided to do nothing some more and then go to bed, needing rest before your big job hunt.

You’d gravely overestimated the amount of job opportunities in your small hometown, only receiving apologetic looks from the store owners as they tell you they don’t need any help, or worse, already have someone. Damn those 16-year-olds who only get summer jobs so they can blow their whole pay in a couple weeks before school starts again. You, on the other hand, need that money for important things, like sipping on a cocktail at a bar with a seaview.

The local hardware store next to the train station is your saving grace. It looks quite small from the outside, but once you step inside, rows of lamps and mirrors in all shapes and sizes along with all kinds of household needs welcome you, followed by a section for gardening and pet caretaking. The basement is where all the paints and brushes were, as well as the more technical (technical to you, at least) products, like bolts and tools or kitchen and bathroom appliances.

A lot of people undertake renovations in their homes during their free time in the summer, so it’s important for the store to have their experts helping out customers in their dedicated aisles rather than working behind the till and restocking the shelves, which is what you will be doing for the next two months. The pay is slightly above minimum wage and with twenty-one hours of work a week, you’ll earn more than enough to enjoy your vacation. You start tomorrow.

Your co-workers are happy to welcome a new face into their team. They’re nice even if they have the tendency to drone on about different types of tools and the importance of choosing the right brush for the surface you’re painting, which you don’t particularly care about, but you think you might as well learn as much as you can during your time here; it might always come in handy later.

As you expected, it isn’t the most stimulating job ever, but you aren’t bored out of your mind either. You make small talk with customers as they explain their purchases, some more defensively than others, even if you didn’t ask. You make sure to restock the shelves correctly and sometimes ask for help when you feel your arms giving out after hours of carrying heavy stuff. When no one’s in, you like to rearrange the cute bathroom decorations so that they make a little rainbow of toothbrush and soap holders.

You were daydreaming about what you would do with your friends in Mexico and all the cherries you could eat there when a man so handsome you thought he was a part of your dream walks in. He doesn’t notice (or maybe he just ignores it, you’re not sure) your gawking and smiles at you, saying “hello” before turning his attention to the map which details where everything is stored at the entrance of the shop. You manage a small “h-hello” back that probably doesn’t even reach his ears, and you curse yourself for doing a poor job of greeting a customer just because said customer looks like he’s been pushed from the heavens above onto this unworthy earth by the other angels who were jealous of his beauty.

You stay put behind the counter the whole time he’s there to avoid the potential embarrassment of running into him in a random aisle and making a fool of yourself. There isn’t much to do anyway, so you rearrange the organic protein bars and chewing-gum at the counter and count all the money in the cash register to distract yourself. He doesn’t spend a very long time browsing and after twenty minutes, you see him approach with a cart full of the biggest cans of paint the store offers. It’s mostly white paint, but there are some browns and grays, and one of pink as well.

You thank God for those twenty minutes because they allowed you to get a hold of yourself so that you didn’t gape at him like a dead fish instead of scanning his articles, which is what you are very professionally and expertly doing. “That’s a lot of paint,” you comment lightheartedly, partly just to prove to yourself that you can also speak in front of this man.

“I know,” he chuckles, and it seems unfair that his voice should be just as attractive as his face. “The previous owners of the house I just bought had terrible taste in wallpaper and wall colors, so I have to repaint basically the whole house. Everything has to go, really. The floors, the furniture, the lights.”

“Sounds like you’re going to have a busy summer. That’ll be $132.76, please.”

“I’ll pay by card,” he says as he brings his wallet out from his back pocket and inserts his card into the reader, which allows you to look freely at his tanned arms and the veins that protrude here and there. He can’t be older than thirty, so there’s probably not that much of an age difference between the two of you, but damn does he look more mature in the sexiest way possible than all of the male college students you’re used to seeing on a daily basis. If anything, he reminds you of the hot young Linguistics professor your whole department likes to drool over.

The beep of the payment being accepted snaps you out of your daze. “And yeah, it’ll sure be a busy summer. I’ll need a lot of stuff from here, so you might have to get used to seeing me around,” he says with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this walking Greek god of a man is actually flirting with you, but the glint in his eyes tells you it wasn’t just an off-hand comment.

“I could get used to that,” you surprise yourself by replying confidently, your smile mirroring his as pretty dimples appear on each side of his face.

You hand him the receipt and notice his eyes flickering down to your name tag before trapping yours in his gaze once again. You don’t think you ever want to look away. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he says and walks out with his cart and his tons of paint before you can say anything, lest ask his name, except for “see you.”

You take a deep breath in and another out when he’s out of sight, trying to calm your racing heart. You can’t wait to rave to the girls’ group chat about this, but one of your coworkers calls you for help and you have to put the handsome stranger to the back of your mind for a while.

—

That weekend, your parents ask you to do something about the cherries slowly starting to spoil in the fridge, so you put on your headphones and listen to an audiobook for entertainment, then get to pitting. It feels wrong to listen to The Kiss Quotient and its many smut scenes when your parents are coming and going out of the room, but what they don’t know won’t kill them; you just try to keep your reactions to a minimum during the extra spicy scenes.

Pitting cherries is an arduous task that always takes longer than you think it will, but you never complain about it. You’ve found the perfect technique of cutting them in half around the pit, turning the small fruit without squeezing it, extracting the stone and making sure it doesn’t get confused and end up in the bowl with the pitted cherries, all without tiring your wrists after ten minutes. A surprise pit in a cherry pie can add to the charm of a homemade dessert, but you’d rather not have to spit out five of them while trying to eat one slice.

You prepare a crumbly dough to make two classic American-style pies and fill four jars with cherry jam that you cook while the doughs rest. It’s almost offensive how small the cherries become as they cook, the amount that fills those four jars having filled eight before, but you decide there’s no reason to take it personally since the cherries don’t do it on purpose, and put the jars away to cool down. You roll out the first rested dough and despair for a bit when it keeps on falling apart, but it just makes it more satisfying once you have it perfectly thinly rolled out and covering the tin. The second one is a bit nicer to you and you only have to try rolling it out twice.

Two hours later, as the sun finally starts to relent and a cooler breeze flows through the air, the pies are all baked, cooled and ready to be eaten. You leave one for you and your parents to enjoy later, then head over to the next house to greet your new neighbors with the other pie. You knock and wait for a good thirty seconds before getting any sort of response, making you think no one’s in.

“Y/N?” a semi-familiar voice calls out, and your head whips in its direction. If this were a cartoon or a 2012 teen show, you’d probably drop the pie tin, but thankfully, your hands aren’t that sweaty, and the shock of the man from the other day at the store being your neighbor isn’t that great, because of course, of course he’s your neighbor. You’re Y/N, after all; the almighty gods above would never let you have a boring, uneventful summer. Of course the hot new man in town is your neighbor.

“Oh! Hi! Guess we’re neighbors. Ha,” you say with a clumsy smile, holding the tin over your forearm as your other hand shields your eyes from the sunlight so you can look at him without squinting your eyes.

“Neighbors?” he repeats as he joins you on the front porch, taking off his gloves dirtied by the mud and using the back of his hand to wipe off some sweat from his forehead. The sweat makes his hair stick to his face and there are small beads of it falling from his hairline down onto his white t-shirt. You detect the slightest of stubbles on his chin and upper lip, probably from not having shaved for just a day or two. He’s even tanner than when you saw him a few days ago, and his thick eyebrows form a straight line as he frowns in what you guess is tiredness and perhaps confusion from seeing you in regular clothes and holding a pie tin on his porch. For a second, you’re scared he might think you’re some kind of stalker, but you nod and tilt your head towards your house.

“Yep. That one just over there behind you.”

He turns his upper body to take a look at your house and nods slowly as he turns back around, gaze finding yours again like the other day at the store. You have no idea who this man is - hell, you don’t even know his name - but good lord are you attracted to him, especially when he gives you that unreadable smile that shows off his dimples.

“Huh. What a coincidence,” he says, and that could mean anything in the world, but you hope he means it in a good way. “I’m Sunghoon, by the way.” he adds, extending his hand for you to take, which you do, and the simple action of shaking his hand without eye contact ever breaking is enough to send shivers down your spine. Hopefully, this goes unnoticed by this Sunghoon.

A walking wet dream. That’s what this man is. He’s walked right out of your deepest Wattpad-induced fantasies and into the house next door. Probably doesn’t help that you’d been listening to literary porn just fifteen minutes prior.

“Is that pie?” he asks as he releases your hand.

“It is, cherry pie I made myself with cherries from our backyard. A housewarming gift, if you will. Here,” you reply, offering him the tin.

He takes it from your hands, the tips of his fingers slightly grazing yours, on purpose or not, you’re not sure. He lifts some of the aluminum covering the pie and peeks underneath, then hums appreciatively. “Thanks, it looks really good. I’ve been living off of ready-meals and casseroles from the neighbors, so this’ll be really nice.”

“Well we’ve got tons of cherries, so feel free to ask whenever you want some,” you offer, and he nods. A small silence settles between the two of you and you’re about to excuse yourself so it doesn’t get awkward when he invites you in, asking if you’d like to have a piece with him.

“If you want to, I mean. I was gonna take a break anyway,” he says somewhat coyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. You’re surprised to see him being anything else other than confident and self-assured, but it only makes him look cuter in your eyes.

“Sure,” you accept with a smile, letting him lead you inside the house.

“Sorry, it smells like paint all over the house. That’s why I was outside, doing some gardening while I aired the house out,” he explains. “Let me just get some plates and a knife out. And something for us to drink. Do you want to drink something? I’ve got water, or some iced tea or lemonade. The grandma across the street made some for me,” he says all at once, and you suppress a giggle at his sudden nervous behavior.

“Sunghoon?”

“Yeah?” he responds almost immediately, turning to you just as you both reach the kitchen.

“Just water is fine.”

A shy smile makes his dimples appear once again as he nods. “Okay, sounds good.” You help him carry everything to the back porch and set down the glasses and a jug of water on a table with two chairs around it.

“The porches are the only parts I won’t have to fix up too much, for some reason.”

“You’re going to redo the whole house yourself?” you ask, surprised, as you pour two glasses of water and he serves you a slice of cherry pie (“there might be some stray cherry pits, so be careful,” you warn as he sets a slice on his plate).

“A lot of it, yeah, but I’ve also got some people to help out. My dad’s a carpenter so I know my way around these things, but I also know it’s better and faster to have more than one man on the job, so some guys he works with come a couple times a week.”

“Yeah, with the state this house is in, you’d need more than a summer if you did everything yourself,” you comment, and he chuckles, agreeing. “My friends and I used to make stories about how this place is haunted, you know,” you say jokingly.

“Please don’t jinx my house from the get-go,” he says, making you laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. It’ll be nice seeing it all fixed-up, actually.”

“Have you lived here long?” he asks, looking at you thoughtfully as he takes another bite of the pie. “This is really good, by the way.”

“Thanks. And yeah, my whole life. I go away when semester starts but come back for the holidays and the summer.”

“So you're a student?”

“Yeah, just at the state university a few hours away. Not too far away that it’s a hassle traveling back, but not too close that I go home every weekend. What about you, what do you do?”

You wait for his answer while he swallows his mouthful and take another bite yourself. “I teach,” he starts as he dabs the corners of his lips with a napkin. “Fifth graders, on the other side of town. I used to live in a small apartment near the school I work at but it’s nicer, having more space. I saved enough money to buy this house and fix it up, so here I am now,” he says, gesturing to the house and the garden with his arms.

You notice his use of the first person pronoun when he talks about where he used to live and his house now, which makes you wonder if it’s just him, even though you were sure you heard a woman and a young girl’s voices the other day. Surely, if he wasn’t single, he wouldn’t have invited you in or given you flirtatious looks, right? Or were you reading totally wrong into this and he was just an exceptionally friendly person?

You put these questions to the side and continue chatting with Sunghoon, letting the subject of his marital status come up on its own during your conversation. And indeed, you get your answer when he tells you about the different parts of the house he plans on having, one of them being a bedroom for his daughter.

“Oh, so you have a daughter? How old is she?” you ask as you take a sip of water, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Considering his age, you expect that his child will be one, two years old max, so his answer makes you almost choke on your drink.

“She’s turning eight this summer.”

“Eight?” you repeat as you set your glass down, looking at him wide-eyed. So much for nonchalance. “But you’re so-”

“Young? Yeah, I know,” he interrupts with a knowing smile, probably used to this kind of reaction. “I’m 26,” he adds, then watches as you do the simple math in your head. When you turn to him with a surprised look, he answers your question before you’ve even asked it. “Yep, I had her when I was 18.”

“Wow,” is all you can say. “Can I ask what happened?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s nothing extraordinary or anything. I was in my last year of high school, and I got my girlfriend at the time pregnant. We’d only been dating four months but her parents wouldn’t let her get an abortion. They’re really religious. They took care of our baby, with the help of my parents, while I went to community college and she retook senior year since she had to drop out halfway through the year. No, we’re not together anymore, if you’re wondering,” he says, catching you off guard, as if he’d read your thoughts.

He chuckles before sighing and continues. “If none of this had happened, we’d probably have broken up before going off to college and proceeded to forget about each other. We started out living with her parents, then got that small apartment I told you about when she found a job. We’re not on bad terms by any means, but we’ve just not been in love since Chaeryeong turned 2, probably. We’ve been more roommates than a couple for the past six years. And you know, we kept on living together for Chaer mainly, but she’s found a new boyfriend and I wanted to have my own place. Which has led me here.”

You nod slowly, letting the whole story sink in. “You’re both handling this situation really maturely, it sounds like. I’ve heard of so many teenage parents fighting all the time and not taking care of their kids properly.”

“She’s already got a weird parental situation, it’s the least we can do for her to behave like adults, you know.”

“Right, of course,” you say, nodding again. Your hot new neighbor was actually a DILF, you realized a bit inappropriately, perhaps. Cherry on top.

He tells you a bit more about his daughter and you keep talking until your dad calls you, asking you why you’re not home at dinner time, and you only notice then how long you’ve been sitting there with Sunghoon, just talking. You tell him you feel bad for taking up so much of his time but he shakes your apologies off.

“It was my pleasure, really. And thanks again for the pie, I think Chaer will love it.”

He walks you to the front door and calls out your name after you’ve waved goodbye and started walking. You didn’t know you had been expecting him to do anything until you heard the hopeful tone in your own voice. “Yeah?”

“You any good with kids?” he asks, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms and a smirk that makes your heart flutter.

Although you’ve only got one older brother, you have younger cousins as well as older ones that have babies of their own, so you’re not a complete stranger to kids, but more importantly, you like them. They have the world to learn, but they say surprisingly smart things and have really cute faces.

“I’d say that I am, yeah,” you reply, a smile growing on your face, mirroring his expression.

“Good,” he says, and pauses a second for good measure. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Sunghoon,” you say as you turn back and head to your house, letting him enjoy the view of you walking away.

On the short way home, you realize that you completely have the hots for your neighbor, although you probably knew that before. Is it twisted that you like him more now that you know he’s got a kid? Probably a little bit, but you’re not going to fight it. He’s single, after all. And not even thirty. A five-year gap isn’t unheard of.

Your parents ask you where you’ve been as you set the table and get ready for dinner. “Just over at our new neighbor’s house to give him some pie and say hi,” you say as you toss the salad in its bowl, spreading the dressing evenly.

“Ooh, the neighbor,” your mother echoes knowingly, wiggling her eyebrows, and steals a leaf of lettuce when it falls from the bowl because of your vigorous tossing. “We should have him over at some point, welcome him into the neighborhood. I’ve seen him a bit, you know. Out painting on his front porch or when he was in his garden the same time as me. He’s a very attractive young man,” she says, lowering her voice so your dad doesn’t hear even though he’s outside grilling the meat. “Do you know how old he is? Looks a bit young for a homeowner to me, but who knows what young people are up to these days.

“He’s twenty-six, and he’s saved a lot of money. Plus, I don’t think that house was very expensive. From what he’s told me, the renovations will basically cost as much as the house itself. He’s also got a kid.”

“Aw, must be a cute baby,” she says as your father walks in, carrying a tray of steaming barbecued steaks and potatoes.

“She’s eight,” you say bluntly, causing them both to look at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, right, then. Happens,” your mother says, bringing her glass of water to her lips and taking a sip from it. “Is he still with the mother?”

“They broke up a while ago, but they’re on good terms,” you say, and your mom nods slowly at the information.

“So, he’s single, huh?” she says, trying to hide her smile, earning herself a groan from your dad and a chuckle from you.

“C’mon, mom!”

“What? You can’t deny that he’s attractive, and he’s single. Plus, you two must get along well if you spent a couple hours talking. Sure, he’s got a kid, but you love those, don’t you?”

“Mom, you of all people would know kids aren’t pets. Dating someone with an eight-year-old isn’t the same as dating someone with a cat.

“No one’s asking you to be that girl’s mom,” she says, dishing out some meat for the three of you. “I’d go get that man, if I were you.”

Your dad shakes his head and you eat your food as you listen to them bickering with a smile. You think about what your mother said - should you go and get Sunghoon? Your heart says yes, but your brain is a bit more reluctant. Another part of your body, lower down there, is screaming ‘yes’ at you.

He does live right by, after all.

That night, you FaceTime your roommate and best friend from college and bring her up to date about ‘the hot man from the store the other day.’ She paints her toenails but listens intently as she always does when you talk about boys, humming and chuckling here and there.

“God, Y/N, I didn’t know you had daddy issues, of all things.”

You gasp fake-dramatically. “Excuse me, I do not! I was attracted to him before I knew he was a dad, I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let me know when you guys actually hook up, I’m curious whether older men are actually better,” she says, making you scoff.

“I hope he is. I’m very much tired of those boys that don’t know where the clit is and use too much tongue.”

“You know, when I complain to my mom about guys, she always tells me to wait it out a few years. She says they get more mature and, well, she didn’t say that outright, but she very heavily implied that the sex is much, much better. Kinda gross hearing it from her, but it’s good information.”

You hum. “Well, he’s not that much older… But let’s hope that it still makes a difference,” you say, and then move on to another topic.

—

One thing that eating cherries has taught you is that if you want to enjoy eating the sweet flesh, you’ll need to deal with the pit as well. Ever the grand philosopher, you realized soon enough that this was applicable to real life and not just your favorite fruit. Wanna get a good grade on your test? Gotta study for it. Wanna go on holiday to Mexico? Gotta find a summer job and earn money.

Wanna make your way to Sunghoon’s bed? Gotta seduce him.

Over the following days, you stand behind the counter at the hardware store, elbow perched on the hard surface, head resting on your palm and vision fuzzy as you daydream about your next encounter with Sunghoon. More often than not, a customer will clear their throat to awkwardly let you know of their presence and you’ll have to exchange your imagined dialogue with Sunghoon for a quick apology and some pleasantries; more often than not, a coworker will call out your name for some help just as you get to the juicy part of your reverie. In those moments, you always feel like you’ve been caught red-handed watching softcore porn, even if no one knows the last thing about what goes on in your head, nor do they care.

Much like the first time he walked into the store, when he does again on a Thursday morning, you think your daydreams have just gone too far and you’re now hallucinating. But, lo and behold, this is the true Park Sunghoon in the flesh, and he smiles and waves at you as he strides in before disappearing behind one of the many aisles.

You spend the next fifteen minutes going over witty conversation starters that will surely make him fall for you, only for you to stutter out a “h-hi, Sunghoon,” when he finally reaches the counter.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he jokes, and you laugh a bit too hard for a comment that isn’t that funny.

“How are the renovations going?” you ask as you scan his articles - some more paint and brushes, lots of tile glue, a bunch of nails and two different sizes of turnscrews. He frowns in concentration at the snacks next to the counter until he caves in and gets a chocolate protein bar that’s more sugar than protein.

“Pretty okay,” he starts. “I’m in a bit of a rush, cause Chaer is already coming in two weeks and I need to have finished at least the interior by that time. My dad’s friends helped me get the roof done, so that’s good, but now they’re all busy with other sites so it's just me. Right now I’m redoing the tiles in the bathrooms. You need so much damn glue,” he says with a chuckle.

You think for a second, then timidly offer, “I could help out, you know. If you needed me to.”

He looks at you with raised eyebrows, halfway through getting his card out of his wallet. “Really?”

“I mean, I don’t have much experience with this kinda stuff, but I’ve picked up a few things here and there from working here. If it saves you time, I could do the easy things. This job isn’t particularly physically demanding so I’ve still got energy at the end of the day. That’s $78.96, please.”

A small smile appears on his face as he inserts his card into the reader. He punches in his code and then returns your gaze. “That could be nice, actually.”

And that’s how you find yourself over at Sunghoon’s house in denim shorts and your dad’s old t-shirts almost everyday for the next two weeks, helping him fix up the old two-storey home. He measures out the perfect length for wood planks or marble tiles that you assist him in fastening to the floors of different rooms and he fixes holes in walls that you paint over afterwards. Sometimes on your breaks, you share a bowl of cherries that you brought from your garden. (One morning, you tried to make cherry juice out of them, but when after almost two hours of pitting the liquid barely filled a glass, you decided that it was too much effort and that you’d keep on just eating them and baking the occasional pie.) You asked him to tell you what each of the rooms upstairs would be and you realized that the window of his room faced yours directly. The blinds were down as they had always been, so you hadn’t known what the room would be.

“I’ve been sleeping on the couch since I haven’t gotten around to fixing up this room yet. Guess I should get to it, though,” he says, giving you a look that blurs the meaning of his words so that you’re not sure what he’s implying, which happens a bit too often with Sunghoon.

And you’d think that spending the better part of two weeks with the current man of your dreams would be amazing, right?

Wrong. It’s unbearable.

Maybe that’s exaggerating it - it’s mostly fun, and sometimes unbearable. Usually, you’re an avid fan of sexual tension, especially with attractive men like Sunghoon. Lingering gazes, eye contacts when there shouldn’t be any, remarks with a deeper meaning that they let on, barely-there touches on the back of your hand or on your waist that manage to take your breath away. These are all very fine things that keep your heart bouncing and a blush on your cheeks, but they are supposed to amount to something more in the end. Maybe you’re impatient, but after two weeks of sending sex through your eyes to Sunghoon, you get the feeling that he doesn’t reciprocate your desire. One afternoon, you’d made sure to go and sunbathe in your bikini at the exact moment he was doing some work outside, and even then, he merely gave your body a one-over and disappeared a few minutes later inside his house. When he came back about ten minutes later, he could still barely look at you.

At the same time, there’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he stands close behind you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest against your back, big, rough hands enveloping yours as he demonstrates how to cut a plank of wood with the machine. There’s no way the way he smirks when the action turns you into a stammering mess is innocent, either.

Yet nothing happens. The tension is thick enough to be cut with a knife, but maybe Sunghoon hasn’t bought cutlery yet. The air is already heavy from the heat and the relentlessness of the sun, but this thing between you and him makes it almost suffocating, in somehow the best yet worst way possible. You’re this close to simply throwing your naked body at him, and it doesn’t help that you see his flexing, working muscles and beads of sweat on his hairline everyday. On the days he wears shorts, which is most days, all you can think of is getting off on his thick thighs, of his hands holding you tightly by the waist, of the way he’d look at you, eyes clouded over, of the words he’d whisper in your-

Your phone buzzes, interrupting you in your horny downward spiral. It’s your dear mother telling you to come home for dinner. As you pick up your phone, a second buzz. Ask Sunghoon if he wants to eat with us.

You find him in his bedroom, adding the last touches to the walls. “I think I’ll be able to sleep here starting tomorrow night. I just need to go buy a bed,” he says when he sees your figure standing in the doorway.

“We can go together if you want,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. Hoping it’ll make you seem less weird, you add, “I’ve got really good taste in furniture.”

“Is that so?” he questions, turning to you with a smile. “I’d appreciate the second pair of eyes, actually. There’s a lot of things I need to get.”

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna comment on it, but I think you’ll end up needing more than a couch, a plastic dining table and two chairs,” you tease, making him roll his eyes lightheartedly. “We can go to that huge second-hand store they have just outside of town. You’ll be surprised how good - and cheap - the furniture is there.”

“Sounds good,” he nods, and checks his watch. “Are you going home?”

“I am. My mom’s invited you over for dinner, if you’d like,” you say, tilting your head at him.

He raises his eyebrows in delighted surprise. “I’d love to. Just need to shower first.”

“That’s fine. I’ll go home, just come over whenever you’re ready.” You exchange quick see you laters and you head home, taking a shower yourself and making sure to use your best-smelling body lotion.

Sunghoon arrives half an hour later with a bouquet of roses in his hands and an award-winning smile on his face. You let him in and he greets your parents, offering your mother the bouquet. “Sorry I took so much time getting here, I wanted to pick these out as a thank you.”

You can tell your mother is pleased to the heavens as she waves him off, leading him inside your house. “That’s awfully nice of you, Mr Park-”

“Call me Sunghoon, please,” he says with a warm smile.

“Right, Sunghoon. And no worries, you’re just on time. Please, sit.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, no, you’re working all day fixing up that house, just sit and relax. We’re very happy to have you over, aren’t we?” your mother says, sending a very obvious smile your way, which makes you furrow your eyebrows and shake your head lightly at her, silently telling her to shut up. Sunghoon chuckles at the exchange but says nothing and you want to bury yourself and your mother ten feet underground.

Sunghoon sits across from you at the dinner table, which allows you to stare unabashedly at him as he works his charm on your parents. He’s the neighbor, so technically, he’s not a boyfriend you brought home to meet them, but still, you can’t help but compare him to those few boys that you did bring home. None of them were a disaster, but none of them went as smoothly as this, either. There were always some awkward silences and dry chuckles with your past boyfriends, but Sunghoon clearly knows how to make parents happy. Maybe because he lived with his ex’s parents for so long, or maybe because he’s a parent himself. Either way, it only adds to your desire to take all of his clothes and let him rail you into next week. Too bad he clearly doesn’t feel the same way, you remind yourself with an audible sigh, which makes him look curiously at you, but you brush it off with a smile.

You watch as he accepts a beer, compliments the food and the house, talks football with your dad, accepts another beer, and shares teaching anecdotes with your mom, who herself is an elementary school teacher. You jump in every now and then when you have something witty to add or someone asks your opinion on something, but most of the time, you sit back and enjoy, happy that everything is going well.

You bring out your infamous cherry pie that you’d baked the previous day along with some vanilla ice cream for dessert, and smile when Sunghoon tells you how much he’d been waiting to have some of it again, trying not to blush as his gaze stays focused on yours for a second too long. Thankfully, your parents don’t notice, too busy cutting themselves a slice.

He stays for another hour or so, until the sun has set and the streetlamps and the moonlight are the only things keeping the world visible. Your mom forces him to accept tupperwares full of leftovers from the night and makes him promise to come back with his daughter. Sneakily, she tells you to help him carry the tupperwares home even though he’s more than able to do it himself, then hugs him goodbye, hurrying you out of the door.

Sunghoon hasn’t yet changed the lightbulbs to more efficient ones, so his kitchen bathes in the faint glow of the overhead lighting as you put away the leftovers in his fridge. He stands a bit to your right close behind you, closer than needed to simply hand you the tupperwares he was holding. When everything is stored, you turn around, but you’re trapped between his body and his arm that holds the fridge door open. With his free hand, he takes you by the waist and pulls you gently towards him. “Careful,” he says so quietly, it’s almost a whisper, and closes the fridge door behind you.

He’s never been this forward with you, and even though you’ve fantasized many times about this exact moment, now that it’s really happening, you don’t know what to do except to search for an explanation in his eyes. His eyes that are looking right into yours and are a bit clouded over, from the alcohol or the proximity between the two of you or both, you don’t know, but that also have the twinkle of a smile in them.

His lips are close enough to kiss, you think, and as if on cue, his gaze drifts down to your slightly parted lips. “You’re very pretty, Y/N,” he says, before sealing your lips with his own. You respond immediately to his kiss - you’ve thought too much about it to stand there and do nothing - but it’s all so slow and so soft that you’re not sure if it’s actually happening, so dreamlike it all feels.

You’re called back to reality when his other hand finds your waist, your own hands coming up to his shoulders before one of them snakes its way to the nape of his neck, tugging lightly at his hair. This seems to change something in Sunghoon, who all of a sudden tightens his hold on your waist, his arms wrapping around it to bring you closer to him. His kiss gets faster and deeper too, and, to your surprise but not your distaste, a bit desperate. You’re happy if you have on him half of the power he has on you. You taste sweet vanilla ice cream and tangy beer on his tongue, and it’s not at all unpleasant. It makes you want to eat cherries together so you can then taste them in his kiss.

A lustful sigh escapes your lips and then the warmth disappears all at once. Sunghoon looks at you like you just woke him up from a deep slumber and takes a step back away from you. You call out for him worriedly and the sound of his name seems to make him think he did something terribly wrong.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N, I don’t know what came over me. We shouldn’t do this, it’s not- I shouldn’t have done that,” he sighs, looking defeatedly at the ground.

“Why?” you ask quietly, almost inaudible.

“You should go home,” he snaps, then closes his eyes as if in pain, cringing at his harsh tone. “I’m sorry. I think you should go home, it’s getting late,” he repeats, softer this time, but the words still sting.

“O-okay,” you say to the floor, already feeling tears well up in your eyes. You feel like you just got rejected by your high school crush, and the humiliation makes you want to crawl into a hole and die.

Sunghoon sighs again. “I’ll let you know tomorrow about the furniture shopping, yeah? Chaeryeong is coming in the morning so we can go with her.”

“O-okay,” you repeat, surprised he still wants to do that with you. “Good night, Sunghoon,” you say without looking at him and scurry out of his house.

“Good night, Y/N,” Sunghoon answers to the emptiness after you’ve left, touching his lips with the tips of his fingers and feeling the ghost of your kiss there.

—

Truth be told, you haven’t always loved cherries. Because of a heinous lie your older brother had made you believe when you were just six years old, you hadn’t eaten cherries for two summers in a row. It was the summer your parents had finally allowed you to eat cherries as they came from the trees in your backyard - beforehand, they’d been too scared that you’d choke on the pit or swallow it unknowingly, and had always prepared purées or other forms that cherries can take for you to eat, so to be finally handed the small fruit and told “go ahead, try it,” felt like an honor.

A simple “don’t forget to spit out the pit” from your mother had sufficed for you to be careful, and yet, your brother had thought a fear tactic would be more effective. “If you swallow it, a tree will grow inside your belly and make you puke out cherries,” he’d lied when it was just the two of you at the outdoor table.

“Really?” you asked him in disbelief, horror written all over your face as you looked at the seemingly harmless yet deadly fruit in your hand. You’d already eaten two and were in the middle of eating a third; your brother nodding ‘yes’ in response was all it took for you to spit out the cherry furiously and immediately start sobbing, afraid you’d swallowed one even though all three pits were right there on the table, a guarantee that no unwanted flora would grow inside of you.

Your mother rushed outside at the sound of your wailing and quickly put two and two together when she saw your brother laughing uncontrollably while you hid your face in your hands, desolately imagining your future as a walking cherry tree. She held you tight in her arms as she told your brother off and reassured you that he was just playing a stupid prank on you. Still, the simple thought of swallowing a pit had terrified you and you were unable to eat cherries for the remainder of the summer and the one after that.

This is the story you tell Chaeryeong and her dad as the three of you sit outside together, making them laugh - although, a few minutes later, when Sunghoon is gone to the bathroom away, Chaer leans over the table and whispers, “It’s not true, is it?” so you reassure her that you’ve eaten cherries your whole life and have never had one single root take life in your tummy.

It’s been a bit over a week after you shared that kiss in his kitchen, and the awkward atmosphere is just starting to fade. You’re glad he didn’t ignore you after that night, even if pretending nothing happened when both of you are very aware that something did happen is only the slightly better alternative. It’s a refreshing change from boys that sleep with you and then act like you don’t exist, for sure.

The kiss hasn’t done anything to burst the tension; if anything, it’s made it even more electric. You catch him looking at your lips more than once and you wonder why he still acts the same way as before when he’s made it very clear he didn’t think kissing you was a good idea. Catching him shirtless one night in his bedroom doesn’t help, and neither does him catching you staring at him - you’d quickly shut the curtains, but it was too late, and he’d seen you ogling his toned chest and abs.

At least, the fact that Chaeryeong is here forces a bubbly atmosphere upon you, and you hope you’re not crazy when you notice him fondly looking at the both of you interacting. Chaer is an outgoing little girl and seems to have liked you as soon as you complimented the toy puppy in her hand, saying you used to have the same and it was your favorite.

The day you went food shopping was practically hell to get through. One evening, you were holding onto Sunghoon for dear life, finally kissing him, and the next afternoon, you were browsing through the endless aisles of your local IKEA, holding his daughter’s hand and pretending like you hadn’t kissed her daddy.

When it got to the bedroom part of the store, you and Chaer decided to try all the mattresses and find the most comfortable one. You usually were never one for seating and laying on random beds in stores, but there was a kid with you, so you were sure it’d be fine. When you found the one you liked most, you looked up at Sunghoon from your position and said, “This one’s pretty good, Sunghoon.” His immediately reddening cheeks told you everything you needed to know and you quickly sat up, clearing your throat. He tested the mattress by pushing his palm against it and muttered a “yeah, it’s pretty good” before scribbling down the number of the mattress onto the small sheet of paper customers use to remember which products they wanted.

Of course, now that Chaer is with him and most of the work in the house is done, save for some minor things that Sunghoon can finish up on his own, you spend a lot less time together. You hate that you miss him so much. You miss the way he makes you feel, like your whole body is on fire with just one look or one touch, the way his stupid jokes make you laugh or how endeared he looks when he talks about his daughter. Seeing him with her only adds to your stupid crush - he’s doting, protective and caring, makes sure she has everything to be happy and manages to treat her at once like the kid that she is but also like a human that has opinions and feelings. He’s a really good dad, and that does nothing whatsoever to stop your DILF fantasies, although now, it’s really Sunghoon that you want, and the fact that he’s a dad isn’t a dealbreaker, it just makes him that much better.

You hate that you miss him, and yet being with him is somehow worse, because you can’t do any of the things you want to do. You fall asleep one two many nights dreaming about his lips and how nice it’d be to feel them again - on your lips, on your neck, everywhere. You want to feel him everywhere, and this longing lust is starting to drive you crazy. You’d never wanted anyone this much.

He invites you over for dinner one night, and the look he gives you when he opens the door sends a shiver right down your spine. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Sunghoon.”

He leads you into the kitchen with a hand on your waist, even though you’ve been in his house many times before and need no assistance getting there. A small, horny voice at the back of your head tells you that tonight may be the night, but you quickly shut it down, not wanting to get your hopes up all on your own.

Sunghoon serves you a glass of red wine, and you ask him what the occasion is. “Just to celebrate the house being almost done,” he answers with a smile.

Dinner would have gone as usual if Sunghoon wasn’t practically staring you down the whole time, eyes full of something you can’t quite put your finger on and that drives you crazy. His gaze lingers on you every time you speak, and he punctuates the syllables of your name like he’s trying to get a feel for them on his tongue.

Your heart is pounding in your chest when the clock strikes nine p.m. and it’s time for Chaeryeong to go to bed - you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle being alone with Sunghoon, and you might have to make a run for it, Cinderella-style.

Chaer goes to the bathroom to wash up and change into her pajamas, and when she comes back, she asks - no, demands - that you’re the one who tucks her in, and who are you to say no to the cutest little girl on Earth? She holds you by the pinky as she drags you up the stairs to her room then buries herself in her covers, tapping on the bed next to her body for you to sit there. “Okay, now we can talk without Dad around,” she says all business-like.

She tells you about the boys at her school and the birthday party she went to last week and the latest drama with her friends. The both of you are too busy chatting and giggling to hear footsteps coming up the stairs and stopping at her door, hiding behind the wall. After ten minutes, she yawns loudly and says, “Can you call Dad? I think he’ll be sad if he doesn’t wish me good night.”

“Of course,” you reply and kiss her on the forehead, wishing her a good night yourself. You’re only half-surprised to find Sunghoon at the doorway, waiting for his cue.

“Wait up for me, yeah? I’ll just be a minute,” he says, that smile still on his lips, that smile that keeps you hoping.

“Okay,” you whisper, and head downstairs, nervously taking a sip from your wine glass as you wait for him on the living room couch.

He is indeed back in a very short time, too short a time for your nerves to settle, so when he sits down close to you on the couch, body turned towards yours, you can feel your heart in your throat. He traces the rim of his glass with the tip of his pointer finger and you both watch the slow movement for a bit, a heavy silence hanging over both of your heads. You wait for him to talk because you’re too scared of what you might say if you start the conversation.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking,” he starts shakily, “about um, our kiss, the other day-”

“Oh, we don’t need to talk about that,” you quickly interrupt, waving your hand in dismissal at him. “You made it clear you didn’t like it-”

“No, that’s the thing-”

“And that you thought it was a bad idea-”

“No, just listen-”

“So let’s just forget about it, and-”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says in a stern voice, raising his tone just enough to make you stop in your rambling.

“Yeah?” you look up at him, eyes wide open. Expecting, as always.

“I haven’t once stopped thinking about that kiss,” he says, sounding out-of-breath. “I handled it awfully, and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t like it, because, God, I liked it. A lot,” he chuckles. “Maybe even too much.”

There they are, the words you’ve been dying to hear. Yet all you can say is a stupid “Oh.”

“I just… I was tipsy, and Chaeryeong was coming the next morning, and I panicked. I didn’t know what to do for the rest of the week, and you didn’t say anything, so I didn’t, either. But I can’t pretend like it isn’t there.”

“Like what isn’t there?” you echo, voice almost low as a whisper.

“You know… this,” he replies, voice as low as yours. Slowly, one of his hands comes up to trace your jawline. You release a shaky breath as you set your wine glass on the coffee table and rest your hand on his knee.

“Are you sure about this? ‘Cause if you tell me that you want me… then I’ll be all yours, Sunghoon,” you murmur, hands slowly sliding up his thigh. He takes you by the wrist and puts your hand right on top of his already growing erection, letting you know exactly how he feels about you.

“God, can’t you see what you do to me? I want you so bad, Y/N,” he almost growls, and with that, his lips are on yours, trapping you into a kiss far hungrier and more ferocious than the previous kiss, your mutual intentions finally laid out in front of you for you both to see.

Sunghoon wastes no time as he grabs you by the waist and brings you to his lap, sitting you on top of his crotch so that you can feel his hardening cock against your core. The kiss turns desperate in mere seconds, and you’re relieved to see that Sunghoon seems to have been waiting for this as long and with as much ardor as you have. Your hands are fisting his hair, tugging almost harshly, while his hands roam the expanse of your back until they settle on your ass, grabbing at it to press you closer to him. You can’t stop yourself from moaning into his mouth when his erection rubs over your core in just the right way, and he takes that opportunity to add tongue to the kiss, deepening it.

You start to grind yourself against him, which he helps you do by slightly rutting his hips into yours and bringing your ass closer at every movement. Quickly, you fall into a rhythm so perfect and that feels so good, you think you might explode right then and there. Forget riding his thigh, this is infinitely better.

Needing to catch your breath, you pull away from the kiss, but your lips find his jaw immediately and you start pressing wet, needy kisses there and down his neck, sucking in some spots so that light bruises appear. “Fuck, Y/N, that feels so nice,” he breathes, eyes shut closed. His scent drives you crazy, and his small praise makes you double down on your actions, almost biting the soft skin of his neck.

As you continue kissing him there, occasionally returning to his lips for more, his hands roam your thighs and then up your back, snaking themselves under your t-shirt and finding the clasp of your bra, quickly doing away with it. He pulls away just so he can help you out of your top and takes your bra off of you, hands caressing your sides as he admires your half-naked body in all its glory. You take his hands and bring them to your chest, resting your hands on top of his as you continue grinding onto him and let him play with your boobs. “You’re so fucking hot,” he practically moans, making you chuckle. You reach for the hem of his t-shirt, because it’s only fair that you get to see him too, and you bite back a moan when he uses the absence of your hands on his to pinch your nipples lightly, then takes one in his mouth, catching you off-guard. You forget all about your plan of undressing him as his tongue flicks at the perked bud, your hands finding his hair again as you moan unabashedly.

“S-Sunghoon,” you breathe, the combined feelings of his now fully hard cock pressing against your clothed but soaking cunt and of his warm mouth around your nipples really getting to your head and making you see stars, so that all you can say is his name. “Please,” you beg, you’re not sure what for. Mercy, perhaps. Or release.

“Please what, baby?” he asks, and the nickname goes straight to your core.

“I don’t- just, please, Sunghoon, please,” you say incoherently, making him chuckle.

“Okay,” he says as if he can read your mind, and you think he actually does when he lays you down on the couch, fingers finding the zipper of your shorts. He unbuttons them and slides them down your legs along with your soaked panties. He makes sure they’re fully off of your body before running his palms up both of your legs, from your ankles to your hips.

“Don’t tease, please,” you plead, too desperate for him to take his time.

“As you wish, princess,” he smirks, and brings a finger to your folds, sliding it down to gather some slick before pushing it inside your hole. Your back arches as an instant response to his touch and you let out a small whine, already craving for more. “Fuck, so wet, and all for me, yeah?” he questions, his eyes not once leaving your glistening pussy.

“Yes,” you breathe out, mind too fuzzy to produce a longer sentence.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos, and adds another finger, pushing all three of his knuckles in and massaging your sweet spot as soon as he finds it. When he’s found a rhythm for his motions, he finally looks up at you and curses himself for not having watched your face earlier. Head tilted back in pleasure, mouth agape as your breathing gets more and more irregular and eyebrows scrunched together, you look like the definition of sex, and it takes everything in Sunghoon to not start touching himself.

He forces himself to look away from you only to focus back on your pussy and notices your swollen clit that is begging for attention. He licks it tentatively, and when your back arches at the feeling of his tongue on you, he dives in completely, licking a stripe up your folds before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking at it like he did with your nipples earlier. The pace at which his fingers are pumping out of you quickens and you’re pulling so hard at his hair, you think you might rip some strands off. You feel yourself getting close, and you’re reminded of all those frustrating encounters with college boys where they stopped right before you came, so you can’t stop yourself as you desperately chant “oh my God please don’t stop please don’t stop,” not even noticing the way you’re holding his head down against your clit and bucking your hips into his face.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck - this is probably the first one you’ve received from someone other than your own hand or your vibrator in the past year and a half. It takes your breath away, and you’re left gasping for air for a good thirty seconds, your mind reeling from the intensity of such pleasure. When you calm down, you lift your head to look at Sunghoon who’s already watching you with a grin on his face, your slick coating his chin and mouth.

You plop your head back down with a groan when realization hits you. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Sunghoon commands, hands rubbing your still-trembling thighs. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he marvels, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Really?”

“Really.”

After another couple of seconds, you sit up on the couch and send Sunghoon a mischievous look. My turn, you think, and if his smile is any indicator then he seems to have understood. “Let me thank you,” you say, gesturing at him to sit up himself as you lower yourself to your knees on the couch in front of him.

You look up at him from between his thighs then unclasp his belt and undo his jeans. He lets out a shaky breath and says, “You don’t need to do this, you know-”

“Don’t be a gentleman, Sunghoon. I want to do this and I know you want it too. It’s pretty obvious,” you tease as you run your hand over his erection, watching in delight as his eyebrows furrow and his eyes close. “Now help me get these off of you.” He nods and raises his hips so you can take his jeans and underwear off, imitating his actions from before as you take your time to get them over his ankles and caressing his legs until they reach his crotch, watching as he takes his t-shirt off as well so that you can finally see him entirely. You’d caught glimpse of him shirtless before as he worked in his garden, but the sight still manages to take your breath away. Taut muscles and sun-tanned skin, laid bare right before you. This is what they mean by sculpted like a Greek god, you think.

You haven’t done anything, yet his head is already laid back against the top of the couch, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulps in expectation and chest rising visibly at every intake of breath. You must’ve saved a thousand souls in your previous life to be deserving of such an image.

You spit in your palm before taking him, starting out by slowly moving your hand up and down his shaft, then rubbing small circles against his tip, the small moan-like sighs that leave his lips letting you know you’re doing a good job. You gather some saliva in your mouth and spit on his length to add some lubricant and smirk when he lets out a low fuck. You bring your head closer and lick his balls, taking one at a time in your mouth and sucking very gently, making the volume of his moans increase. “Just like- fuck, just like that, Y/N.”

You then lick a long stripe up his cock and swirl your tongue around his tip when you reach it, humming at the taste of precum there. Sunghoon gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail so it doesn’t get in your way, and finally looks down at you, blown away by the beautiful sight of your flushed cheeks and your mouth around his cock. He groans when you take him deeper and unconsciously bucks his hips into your throat, making you gag around him. He loves that feeling but doesn’t want to hurt you so he grabs your face and makes you look up at him, lust and worry written all over his face as he apologizes, but you quickly stop him. “It’s okay, I like it. You can do it again,” you say, and smile before wrapping your lips around him once more.

“Fuck, are you sure?” he asks and you hum, sending vibrations all over his body.

“God, o-okay,” he says, in disbelief that you’re okay with him practically fucking your throat and even liking it. And you do like it - you love letting him use your mouth to get off, just like you had earlier with him. He must have amazing core strength because he’s able to buck his hips into your mouth rapidly as he holds your head tight in his hands. The way you keep coming back for more every time he lets you breathe is enough to drive him crazy, but after a couple minutes, he stops you from taking him in your mouth again.

“I can’t- I don’t wanna cum like this,” he breathes, looking just as fucked-out as you do.

“Where, then?” you ask, kissing him all over his thighs as he trails his fingers through your hair. “Inside?”

He groans at the offer but shakes his head, eyes shut as if trying to calm himself down. “I haven’t got any condoms.”

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, still pressing kisses on his warm skin. You’re far too desperate to feel him inside you to let a lack of condom stop you, especially when you don’t even need one.

He lets out an umpteenth shaky breath and makes you look up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Sunghoon,” you say, looking him dead in the eyes, “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You’re relieved when he smiles and nods, bending down to trap your lips in a heated kiss for good measure. Something about being in this position, kneeling in front of his spread thighs and having to look up at him, turns you on even more.

“Okay, then,” he says, still smiling as he pulls away, holding you gently by the chin. “I don’t think I’ll be able to last long, and I want to feel you cum around me. So, tell me, what’s your favorite position, princess?”

The question takes you aback but you answer it anyway, looking at the ground. “Reverse cowgirl…” you admit shyly, a small smile spreading on your lips.

“Reverse cowgirl, huh?” Sunghoon repeats, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking. “Come here, then,” he says, and helps you up, making you turn around so your back faces him and seats you down on top of him, keeping your hips raised. He takes his cock inside his hands, pumps it a few more times before guiding it to your entrance, pressing kisses to your shoulders and nape to make you relax.

You moan at the simple feeling of his tip teasing your entrance and Sunghoon whispers “I know, baby” against your skin. “Sit down for me,” he commands gently, and you oblige, lowering your hips slowly to feel all of him stretching you out, the both of you moaning in synchronization when he bottoms out.

Sunghoon wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you onto him so that your back rests against his chest and you can let your head hang back next to his. “Let me do all the work, yeah?” he murmurs into your ear, and you hum in response. He doesn’t move for a bit, roaming his large hands all over your body until he feels your walls relax around him. One of his hands finds your breasts, playing with each nipple in turn, while the other finds your clit. It’s all so much but so good that you’re already a moaning mess before he’s even started moving. “Ready?” he asks, but you’re too far gone to answer.

His pace starts out slow, but you’re impatient and whine as you try to move your hips against his to go faster, which makes him tut. “I told you I’d do the work, didn’t I?” he asks, pinching one of your nipples in reprimand. “So be good for me and stay still, Y/N. I promise I’ll make you feel good.” You whine again but stop moving, heeding his words.

“Perfect,” he whispers and kisses your neck before picking up the pace, shushing you when your moans get too loud.

“I’m sorry, just feels too good,” you manage to let out.

“I know, but you need to stay quiet, baby,” he says, yet gets rougher with his thrusts, which does not help in the slightest. His hand that was on your breasts comes up to cover your mouth, but he quickly decides to make you suck on two of his fingers instead, muffling your moans a bit.

His fingers on your clit haven’t relented this whole time and after just a few minutes, you feel that familiar knot tying itself again in your stomach and you know you’re mere moments away from it coming undone. Judging by his rapid but clumsy thrusts, Sunghoon must be close too. He pounds into you like you’ve been wanting him to ever since you first set eyes on him as he entered the hardware store, hitting your g-spot over and over again. Tears roll down your cheeks and you whimper around his fingers, biting down on them as your second orgasm hits you.

You’re practically sobbing as he helps you ride out your high, his movements sending your body into pleasant overstimulation until he reaches his high too, the feeling of your pussy clenching tightly around him pushing him over the edge. Ropes of his semen paint your walls white, and there’s enough of it for him to become a father of two. You whine as he pulls away, and feel his cum slipping out of you and onto the couch underneath you. Before you can catch your breath, he asks, “Baby, can I do something very dirty?” and you nod without thinking much. This man could do anything he wanted to you, and you’d thank him for it.

He settles you back down onto the couch, kneels on the floor, head level with your core, and sticks his tongue inside your hole, making you yelp in surprise and overstimulation. You don’t understand what he’s doing until he comes back up and makes you open your mouth with his thumb, then spits inside it, telling you to swallow. You do as he says and taste his cum, laughing in disbelief at what he just did - and at how much you liked it. “Fuck,” you giggle.

“Was that too much?”

“God, no,” you say, and he smiles. You open your arms, gesturing for him to get back on the couch. He rests his head between your breasts, the both of you sighing in contentment as he rubs small circles on your belly and you graze your fingers through his hair. He’s so silent that you think he’s fallen asleep, but he speaks up after a while, voice soft and calm like you’ve never heard before.

“We should go get cleaned up…” he says, and you hum in agreement, “...but it’s so nice here,” he finishes, making you giggle.

“If we get cleaned up quickly now, we can cuddle in bed right afterwards,” you argue.

“You’re right. Infallible logic. You’re so smart, you know that, Y/N?” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Of course I know that,” you joke. “Let’s go,” you say, kissing the top of his head.

You take a shower together, cleaning each other and leaving kisses here and there, or touching in places you shouldn’t touch and that maybe lead to more, right there in the shower. Now that you’ve had a taste, you’re insatiable, and you warn Sunghoon that the both of you are in for a very long night, to which he answers that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once you do fall asleep, (which isn’t until two rounds later, and you’re surprised either of you have this much energy), however, you’re holding each other tightly, the fan on high so that you don’t feel all sticky, being so close to each other. Even if you wake up here and there because he shuffled or he snored too loudly, it’s one of the best sleeps you’ve ever had.

—

You wake up the next morning by small giggles and snorts that come from none other than Park Chaeryeong herself, who’s buried herself between you and her dad, shaking her body to wake the two of you. You’re glad that you listened to Sunghoon when he told you to put on a t-shirt of his as well as some underwear so neither you or Chaer would have a fright when she came and woke you up as she liked to do every morning. “You had a sleepover!” she exclaims excitedly when she sees you’ve finally opened your eyes, looking at her with a sleepy expression and a smile.

“We did!” you reply, trying to keep the same level of excitement.

“We did,” Sunghoon repeats, taking his daughter in her arms to hug her tightly and blows a raspberry in her neck to make her laugh.

“You didn’t invite me!” she shrieks when her dad’s left her alone.

“Sorry, sweetheart. It was just me and Y/N.”

“No fun,” she pouts, laying on her back and crossing over arms before turning back to her dad. “So, is Y/N my new mom?” she whispers even though you’re right there. You gasp at her question, making wide eyes at Sunghoon who just snorts, and you can’t tell if she’s genuinely asking or if she’s an eight-year-old with an advanced sense of irony.

“Of course not. Is Heeseung your new dad?” he asks, mentioning his ex’s new boyfriend. Chaer shakes her head.

“No. He’s Mommy’s boyfriend.”

“Exactly, and Y/N is Daddy’s girlfriend. Isn’t she?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you, smirking.

“She is,” you reply, and Chaer turns back to you, giggling. She snuggles close to you, wrapping an arm around your middle, and you’re taken aback by the sheer cuteness of it all. You look at Sunghoon with a fake pained expression, and he smiles endearingly at the two of you before sighing and joining you in your hug. He rests his arms around you and his daughter, kissing the top of your heads in turn.

“My girls,” he mutters in your hair, and you smile peacefully.

There’s a lot of things you have to talk about with Sunghoon. You know your parents - especially your mom - will be okay with the two of you together, but will his parents be? And once semester starts again, what will happen? You’ll have to go back to campus and he’ll have to stay here - will a three-hour drive be a dealbreaker, or will you make it work?

The thing is, there’s no point in thinking about all of this at this moment. You’ve got the whole summer to figure things out. For now, you’ll eat cherries and spit out the pits, and everything will be perfect.

this is a one shot, there will not be a part two!

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts (ask to be removed/added!)

#enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #enhypen hard hours #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfiction #sunghoon fanfiction #enhypen imagines #sunghoon imagines

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fan-goddess · 2 months

Text

A Rose by Any Other Name…

Original Request: Is tagged here if ya wanna read :)

Authors Note: I'm so mixed with this i love some parts yet hate others it's 50/50. Other than that though I adore this au request and hope i did it justice. Just a headsup they're ngl both toxic stupid younglings.

Word count: 9k words (wow...)

Taglist: @humanpurposes @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee

Warnings: Pain, chronic pain, pain flare ups due to chronic pain, soulmates, fluff, angst, actually loving parents, not really a mention of her features only eyes, called a woman and referred to as she/her pronouns, self ableism, a more darker!aemond, implied abuse of royal power, Aemond ngl being lowkey toxic so they both stupid af (if I miss any let me know)

When first learning about soulmates and the fates which follow them, you had prayed to all the seven gods that you would never be misfortune enough to have one. That you should never feel the pain your soulmate felt with flowers marking your skin.

Your mother did not have one, nor did your father or any of your relatives before them, as according to them the whole thing was actually quite rare among the whole of the seven kingdoms.

Though you suppose you never had been very lucky. It was probably what praying to the stranger did to you.

Your first encounter with those damn deep blue flowers that stung while they branded you was on your legs and your abdomen. According to your septas and the lone maester who was permitted to treat your marks, they looked like marks given to a boy beginning his training in combat.

To them, this was seen as an honor, as it meant if you ever got the opportunity to meet him he could protect you. But to you, this merely meant that you were going to need to get used to that incessant stinging. They never knew what it felt like to feel those damn flowers plaguing your body, but not even you knew how to fully describe what it was like. The only way you could even dare think about it if you were truly forced too, was that it was a death sentence.

You never thought through the few years that passed after making the discovery of possessing a soulmate that the pain could get quite worse. But it appears like always, the idea of luck was not on your side.

It was a strange feeling to wake to a flower blooming on the skin of your left eye. The pain was what you focused on most however, as to be awoken to what you could only describe as being fire scorching your skin was something you could never truly describe but know for the rest of your life. Compared to your earlier marks and the pains that came with them, those were merely like when the septas would swiftly hit the ruler over your knuckles.

While you screamed and writhed in pain in your childhood bed, the maester took quick work in forcing milk of the poppy down your aching throat while the small group of septas held back your worrying mother and father who stood scared in the doorway. The medicines effects soon took its place though to yours and everyone's relief, and you were taken in some sort of daze like sleep.

When you awoke a few hours later with your head still fuzzy and a cooling salve slathered patch over your eye, your father was sitting on a chair propped to the edge of the bed tightly holding your hand while your mother slept beside you above the covers.

"Oh my darling, we were so worried!" Your father said, pulling you into a close embrace that woke your mother up from her sleep. By the way the skin underneath her eyes was darkened and how she yawned as soon as she sat up, you could tell she had been trying to stay up all night for you, and the very idea of it made you smile with gratitude you knew other children did not possess. "You gave us such a fright when we heard you screaming so late at night! What happened?"

"I... I do not know father," You said truthfully, your hand unconsciously going to remove the patch from your eye, but stopping when your father grabs your hand and gives you a stern glare that reminds you of your youth, specifically whenever you would steal an extra lemon bar after dinner. "All I remember is falling asleep and then waking to this horrendous pain in my eye and all around it..."

You have a faraway look in your eye as you find yourself unable to look at your mother and fathers lingering questioning gaze. They may not have ever said it, but you can tell that they pity you greatly for the path the gods have pushed you on. You thought this soulmate of yours was some training knight-to-be. But what knight-to-be experienced battle as harsh as having damage to his eye as horrific as you felt it to be? It did possibly occur to you that your soulmate may actually be a hardened knight with years of experience on the battlefield. But after bringing up the concern with your maester, he assured you that the marks you bore would be a lot worse if he was truly some older knight, a kingsguard or even a goldcloak.

Later that day after being ordered to eat lots to restore your energy, your maester came by that evening to visit and check on your mark. His words were kind as he assured you it would've most likely gone down in its intensity since you barely felt anything now except some throbbing from your socket. According to him, while you lay screaming from the pain, a deep blue flower had taken over your entire socket where the pain had bloomed from, in a strange fascinating way making your eye its center.

His touch was gentle as he slowly peeled back the fabric. Yet his face which once held a supportive smile turns to shock and pure horror once you tilted your head up to look at him.

“Maester, what is the matter?” You ask, biting your lip in pure anxiety as he says nothing but stares at your eye. He does not even look away as he grabs a mirror by your bedside table and hands it too you.

When you look into it though, you do not realize what is so wrong except for some small petal edges that leak from around your eye. But then you look more closely and realize with a loud gasp how your once green eye is now a deep blue, and when you close it you gasp again as you comprehend how now a flower has bloomed on your eyelid.

“What… what has happened, maester?!” You yell, unable to look away from your newly changed face.

“I do not know exactly my lady,” The maester begins, forcibly snatching the mirror from your hands so you’re forced to look at him and listen. “The whole written topic of soulmates to my knowledge is so little given at how rare they are, so there is truly not much advice to give you. The basic idea though as I told you when your condition first developed, is that when he is in pain, you are to have a flower bloom on your skin where the pain originates. There is no record I’m afraid of this condition affecting the physical body except from the blooming flowers and the pain that comes with it.”

You stay quiet as you listen to the maester, tears build up as you realize your life shall not be the same. While the idea of having two different coloured eyes is a condition seen around the seven kingdoms, it is still a noticeable thing that would draw attention of the people.

And honestly, you were not sure if you wanted to meet your soulmate. This latest development in your condition is so new and so frightening. Though you must say you cannot help but feel sorry for the soul the gods have promised you too. While what you felt was agony, you have no idea how much it must’ve hurt for your soulmate at that moment.

Over the next few days, you were closely monitored by the maester, the septa’s and your parents who all were anxious to see if the flower on your eye would slowly go down like the other flowers did when the pain disappeared or if it would remain. And much to yours and everyone around you's annoyance, it very much stayed bright and clear on your skin no matter what ointment or potion was used to clear it.

On the fourth day after the incident, as your father called it, a maid who was one of the few with knowledge of your condition came into your chambers with your morning meal, and some important news.

“My lady,” she began, practically sweating as she placed the tray in front of you. “There has been a recent development in regard to your soulmate's identity.”

Since the pain you felt was the most extreme you had ever felt, your father had felt the need to hire some men to investigate to see if this new information would reveal your soulmate's identity, even though the chance of finding an answer was slim to none. Though you suppose there was never a zero percent chance, as proven by the fact there was according to the maid, a recent development.

“What is it?” You ask, biting into the lemon cake first and savoring the sweet yet sour taste on your tongue. “What has my father discovered that he does not feel the need to come tell me himself?”

“Well…” She stumbles, even stepping back a small step as she instinctively looks to the ground. “It turns out that the same day you had that incident my lady, the prince Aemond Targaryen had his eye taken by his young nephew Lucerys, and it was reported to your father that the damage was so bad the eye had to be removed and the socket sewn up.”

The cake that once laid in your hand falls back onto the plate. Your mouth like the cake falls open in the same undignified manner as you cannot believe the words you are hearing.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen?” You find yourself asking in a breathless tone, silent as the maid nods her head.

“May I be dismissed now, my lady?” She asks, knocking you out of a daze you hadn’t even realized you had fallen into. You nod in answer and watch as she leaves, leaving you in silence and your own thoughts that begin to run rampant.

You were soulmates with the Prince! A Targaryen Prince! You heard that out of his three siblings he was the only one with no dragon, but you honestly did not care if he did or did not as either way he was still a man of honor. When thinking of the injuries you received over the years, you cannot help but think of how it made sense.

You knew princes received special training similarly to that of young knights, so when the maester said that the injuries matched up with them made sense. Yet to hear of the Prince's injury that perfectly synced with your own, that was what finally made it all make sense.

You lay backwards in your bed, and allowed the anxiety to wash over your body. The food lay to waste against the covers as you thought only of what your future could hold as a wife of royalty. Of how you would never be a true lady of the court and in the end would no doubt bring about disgrace to your husband's name. Of how in the end compared to your soulmate, the Targaryen warrior, you are just a woman from a lower house who could not bring anything into the marriage but your empty womb.

The next few years after the realization of your soulmate, you spent your time attempting to convince your father not to pursue a marriage between yourself and the Prince. But to your surprise and happiness, your father agreed to not pursue anything marriage related to you without so much of a fuss, even when you, your father and even your mother knew how much a marriage between you and the Prince would help your house bloom in both social standing and resources.

You felt selfish in your insistence of your future, but your father was adamant in telling you that he was not angry in your decision and if anything he was proud to see you so passionate about your decisions.

Your mother much to your delight seemed to agree with you, which probably the main if not the only reason was why your father acted so calmly. According to her you were too young for marriage, which to most people seeing as your mother and father were married quite young it may be seen as hypocritical. But those people were not there to witness all the times your mother gripped her stomach and dreamed of the brothers and sisters you lost on the birthing bed and before.

You were sure not to injure yourself too greatly in fear of that, like how you found out Prince Aemond, he would discover your true identity and come to your doors to claim you in the same way his elder brother Prince Aegon supposedly claimed the ladies of the red keep.

Yet like all those years ago the night when you realized your eye hard turned blue. The gods were not on your side.

You scream as the pain quickly makes itself known in your arm forcing you to forget anything you’ve ever known other than that overwhelming seering sensation. The tears mask your ability to see the blood pooling up from your skin, and you can hear muffled running in the distance as well as the sound of panicked shouting from the familiar voices of the septas you made such close acquaintances with all those years ago.

You can feel their hands grabbing you, but nothing beats the pain that you cannot even begin to put into words. The maester is by your side as soon as you’re brought to the healing room, and his old wrinkled touch is distinct on your skin as he tries to find the blue flowers he has become so familiar with. Only he does not find blue. Only red. Which is the color of your blood that dyes his fingernails and the tips of his cloak crimson.

Like all those years ago, milk of the poppy is brought to your lips and you are forced to swallow hard and quick. The familiar daze returns as you quickly become numb to the feeling of the sharp needle piercing your skin as the maester attempts to fix you.

You stayed in that bed for at least a day or two before you came too again, but at this point you are used to being there within those familiar walls.

According to the maester, at the height at which you fell from the tree you were climbing in, the tree you were in fact always forbidden to climb but ignored thinking you were safe, you broke your arm clean in two. Apparently the bone had managed to pierce your skin, which is why there had been so much blood. So in order to allow it to heal properly he formed a special layer of hardened protection to stop the arm from any unnecessary movements that could cause further damage to the arm.

As he tells you this, you cannot help but think of how the Prince is thinking right now. Did he get that same piercing pain in his arm too? Did the flowers bloom the same way yours did whenever he managed to harm himself? Were his flowers even the same color as your own? You felt so deep in thought you barely even heard your mother come in to visit.

“My love?” She says, taking your hand in hers and drawing you out from your thoughts. “How are you faring?”

“I am alright mother. The pain is gone, all thanks to the maester.” You say, simply reassuring her as she looks at you carefully to assess whether you lie or not. Yet as she does this you cannot help but notice a distinct figure missing right now. “Where is father?” You cannot help but ask, curious in his whereabouts.

“He went to Kingslanding my love. Do you not remember?” She asks, lips pursed in a sad smile. “You were all set to go with him this morning but since your fall, he was forced to go alone. He sends his best though and wishes that you find a fast recovery, which is seems you have managed to accomplish my strong girl.”

“Oh yes…” You say, remembering she was in fact right. “I suppose I forgot. I did hit my head when I fell.” As soon as you say the words you instantly wince with regret. As before you can even try and defend yourself your mother calls the maester back in and demands a series of further assessments to be done. You sigh as you fall back and your head hits the pillow. This is going to be a long day.

Your father, as he traveled along the road into kingslanding, felt guilt gnawing at his chest for leaving you behind whilst you laid in that healing bed. When he left, you had been in a deep sleep so he had been unable to say goodbye. So he kissed your forehead and squeezed the hand on your unbroken arm and left you to sleep. The guilt remains, but he knows that whilst you lay in that bed you are surrounded and are safer in the presence of your mother and the maester and septas, who overtime have managed to gain much more insight than the majority of people into the topic of soulmates.

As they are so rare, they are viewed as freaks, even though he personally believes that they should be celebrated for being looked upon so greatly by the gods that they have been given a person cut from the same cloth.

When he looks at his own wife, who has given him such light from the darkness of his own life, he likes to think she is his soulmate with or without the flowers blooming on her skin. To him, she is just as beautiful as a fresh bloomed flower after all.

When he exits his carriage down the steps, the queen awaits him with only two of her children standing beside her, and he notices immediately that it is Aemond who is currently absent.

“Will the Prince Aemond not be joining us?” He finds himself asking, eyes widening slightly as he remembers that he is in the presence of royalty. Not some fellow lord whose son is out sleeping away his hangover after fucking a dozen whores.

“No, I'm afraid not Lord Fletcher. My son awoke this morn with a dreadful headache as the maester and he has told me, so he will be staying in his chambers for the duration of the meeting. Probably even for long after you’ve left I’m afraid.” The queen Alicent says, a smile on her face that he immediately knows is forced and strained. After all, he has had to make similar lies when people at the gatherings expect to see you and don’t.

“Ahh, I understand my queen. My own daughter has the same issue with her own health. Some days she wakes as healthy as can be then the next she’s laying in her bed writhing from the worst of pains.” He says, not entirely lying as he remembers those exact moments happening to you as you grew up.

“Ah yes well still we thank you for your understanding.” She smiles again, motioning for him to come and follow her into the castle. “Shall we get down to business?”

The next few hours are spent with him, the queen, and a few other notable house lords debating in the council room. At times the table becomes heated as words are thrown without proper caution, but the Queen always lets a small yet loud cough to remind the men of their place. So to his amusement whenever this happens, the men immediately even when their voices before could shake a mountain, quieten down like freshly stuck dogs denied a newly cut piece of prime steak.

Just as though another annoyingly arrogant man from House Lannister demands to know why his house is in need of paying more of its gold to a lord from House Tarly, the doors burst open, and the second born son of the king walks through as though he was born to strut. As the prince he sits down in the end chair of the council table with all eyes on him, Lord Fletcher cannot help but think about how as soon as he gets home he cannot wait to tell you of how this was the first time he met your soulmate.

“Are you feeling alright my Prince?” He finds himself asking, raising a brow as he turns to the Queen, whose own face holds embarrassment and shock to see her son sitting there before her. “The Queen had told me when I arrived that you were not going to attend today's meeting due to a headache?”

The Prince looks at his mother with what could only be called disdain, and it appears to make her slouch back into her seat while she takes her hand in her own and begins to pick at the nail. It honestly reminds him of how you bite your lips half bloody in your own strange anxiety relieving way.

“I am afraid my mother is mistaken my Lord Fletcher,” The prince simply says. “I merely overdid myself when training with the sword yesterday. I was waiting for the maester to visit so he could give me something to relieve the pain. I do apologize for my tardiness.”

“Oh there is no issue at all my prince.” Lord Fletcher says, an attempt of a smile on his lips. Though he soon becomes distracted when he sees Aemonds eye wander around all those in the room, as if to take some sort of strange attendance record.

“Is your daughter not with you today?” Aemond finally speaks, meeting his eye with Lord Fletcher's own two while he stares him down. “I went to visit my sister before this meeting thinking she would be there so I could greet her and welcome her to kingslanding. But my sister tells me she has never met your daughter. Why is that?”

The Queen Alicent perks from her seat as she remembers now finally remembers the information that had been picking at her all day. “Oh yes my lord pray tell, where is she? I had been so looking forward to introducing her to my only daughter. I had thought the two would get along quite well.”

Lord Fletcher attempts to laugh to ease the sudden tension in the room, but it appears to if anything makes it worse as no faces change from their stoney exterior.

“I’m afraid the day before our departure, my dear daughter had an accident that quite badly injured her arm, the same arm in fact you say to have harmed during your training my prince!” Again he laughs, but that does not stop him from seeing the look the prince and queen share with each other.

It appears the prince is more aware than he thought with the motion of soulmates, though it does make sense when thinking of all the things he’d heard of the one-eyed prince. He is a scholarly boy, so it’d make sense for him to research and look in depth into all the possible books about soulmates the royal library or even the citadel have to offer. He even has the Grand Maester at his beck and call, who no doubt has more information on the topic than anyone else.

“Tell me my lord, how did your daughter have such an accident?” The prince asks as he leans forward so far in anticipation he looks to be at the edge of his seat. “It must’ve been from quite a great height for her to have received such injuries. I do hope she has a quick recovery.”

“Thank you my prince, it means a lot to hear from you. As for how she fell, I believe she was climbing in a tree somewhere on our land when she fell and broke a bone in her arm, the end of which pierced her skin just between her elbow and arm socket, or so our maester told me before I left. I worry about her recovery yes, but I know she is in the hands of a capable maester so I do not doubt she will be feeling much better soon.”

The Prince appears to squint slightly at Lord Fletcher before looking back to his mother. It almost looks like there is a silent conversation between the two, and it’s only interrupted by small tilts of heads by the both of them. It was strange yet interesting to watch.

The Prince hums his final response to the once silent conversation before looking back at Lord Fletcher. “Well as she was unable to make the journey with you to Kingslanding, I suppose I shall have to make the journey to your own home and in a way being Kingslanding to her.”

The silence rings throughout the council room again, with even the queen looking at her son in shock. The councilmen who’d been long forgotten don’t dare attempt to speak a single word since the prince's declaration, which only further proves Lord Fletcher's idea that they’re all idiots in their own rights.

“Are you sure my Prince?” He asks, “Tis I’m sure a tedious journey for you and your dragon-“

“Tis no issue!” Aemond interrupts sharply, his tone firm and assertive. “You are set to travel back home the next morn by carriage I hear. So I shall travel by Vhagar tonight so I may spend the night and meet your daughter in the morn. Is that sufficient enough for you my lord?”

The Prince does not leave room for an answer, as before Lord Fletcher can even open his mouth the Prince already has left the room leaving all councilman members and his mother in shock at the turn of events. And while he feels that same shock, he also cannot help but feel fearful as he knows it’s with his words alone what drove the Prince to commit such quick actions.

He can only dread to think about how the introduction between you and the prince will turn out.

When you awoke the morning after your father had left for Kingslanding, the thing that struck most odd with you were the maids. They looked more fearful than you had ever seen them, and they even avoided eye contact with you, which was odd as by now they had all gotten used to your eye.

“What is the matter with all of you?” You spit, glaring at all the ladies who even after you confronting them refuse to look you in the eyes.

They stay silent as they continue to stare at the stone floor, until finally one of the more recent of the lot breaks the silence.

“The Prince is here, my lady.”

Any anger you felt before this moment disappears soon as it brews and instead is replaced by only stone cold fear.

“He cannot see me…” You murmur, seeing the ladies agree and nod out the corner of your eye. “The Prince cannot see me!”

“He specifically spoke of you when he arrived, my lady,” The maid continues, slowly looking up to stare pitifully at your practically trembling form. You can feel yourself begin to chew at the skin of your inner lip, and yet if anything it encourages you to continue when you start to taste the familiar tang of copper smear on your tongue. “Claims that whenever you wake he wishes for you to join him to break fast together as soon as possible.”

The more this lady speaks the more your gut turns and twists within your body. By now the taste of copper gushes down your throat yet you welcome it gladly, even refusing the goblet one of the other more meeker maids offered you to wash the taste away when they saw red begin to stain your outer lip.

“I have to hide it.” You find yourself firmly saying as you look at one of the older ladies. “Tell me, do we keep any veils that are out of use?”

When the prince awoke within the unfamiliar comfort of the bed with a tired groan building within the back of his throat, it is the memory of the council meeting from the day before that floods his mind, forcing the once tired and sore body into being now quick and alert with excitement and anxiety.

When Aemond was but a young boy, he remembers during one of his lessons on the reign of Maegor feeling a sharp stinging in his knuckles. When he looked down, much to his shock and horror, he saw that light blue flowers were blooming across the pale skin. As much as the initial sight had shocked him dreadfully at first, Aemond could not help but think of that day during later years fondly. As that was the day he realized that maybe after the gods had given him, he was not truly alone.

The Grand Maester had told him everything he himself knew about the topic, and even sent a raven to the citadel to request books speaking of the tales written in the texts. According to him, Aemond was the first in a long time to come forward about possessing one.

Aemond prayed to the gods to meet them soon, but no matter how much he got on his knees no matter how many times he held his hands together in the grand sept with his mother next to him, no girl ever came forward to claim him.

And by the next year, Aemond felt more alone than ever before.

His flowers were never to be allowed to be seen in the eyes of anyone other than his family, a select few maids and the grand maester of course. This was because according to his grandsire, fathers from all across the realm would put their daughters forward claiming to be his soulmate. Also, if it was discovered he had a soulmate, those same fathers may not deem him suitable for marriage if he will abandon his wife for another woman. It was better to hide, so a marriage could be insured and an heir to his name.

Though any thought of a good tempered wife or even a marriage that could soon turn to affection was gone the moment Lucerys stole his eye. He does not remember much other than the pain, but what comes to mind is the thought in the back of his head hoping his soulmate would be alright. Praying that she would not hate him and would still love him even after now being turned into a cripple.

That day he may have lost an eye, but he gained a dragon. He gained the strength to protect his soulmate, and that to him was all that mattered, other than the protection of his mother. Somehow at that moment as she stood there before him, she looked more vulnerable than he did.

While Aemond lay in his bed healing, his mind turned to his soulmate as he remembered the reasoning behind the flowers. The flowers bloom where pain on the other person blooms, in an assurance that they are not alone in this world. Aemond could not help but think it all as a cruel sort of joke, especially as the pain in his eye begins to slowly throb. Yet a part of him is still thrilled to know that even though the Gods have cruelly broken him and built him back up again, there is a person given to him who will share his pain and see him for what he is.

He became even more desperate to discover you as soon as he was fully healed. He called the Grand Maester as soon as he spotted the familiar blue coloring on his skin, and together they looked over each inch of petal extensively until they day turned to night and the oil in the lamps burned out.

According to him, they were marks like that of a piece of wood struck on the knuckles. Which makes sense as Aemond remembers all the times Aegon would fall asleep soon as lessons started, and halfway through a particularly menacing Maester would strike him with a sort of smooth wooden object directly on the knuckles to wake him. It would be a sight that made Aemond smugly smile while he completed all the necessary work and chuckle at later, but thinking of that same treatment happening to his lady made his heart clench in his chest.

Nowadays, whenever he found himself getting injured, whether that is simply a bruise from training with Ser Cole or a sudden onslaught of inner pain in his eye socket, in his mind he always found himself apologizing at the back of his mind for causing pain for his lady. He finds himself wishing he was better in lessons so he could have avoided the swords, wishing he had fought better in the caves against his nephews and cousins so he wasn’t missing his eye. Whatever the situation, Aemond always craved that he was better. And found at the center of it all it was all for her.

He remembers his three and ten name day much too clearly. It lingers in the back of his mind like a plague. The salty stench of the air. The taste of the cheap alcohol Aegon had forced him to consume as according to him, the act was better when a person is left in a daze. The feeling of that woman’s too warm skin. The sound of her supposedly seductive voice that instead of arousing him only managed to make him further horrified. All of it stayed with him for years sticking to his skin.

Though the part which struck out most for him were the thoughts he could not help but think as that woman sunk down on him and robbed him of any free will. The realization that he would not be able to stay chaste for his soulmate. The idea that maybe she would not want to be with him once she found that her soulmate had laid with filthy whores paid by the go to fuck all sorts of men.

He ran out of that place as soon as the weight on his limp body was lifted, and as soon as he reached the comforts of his own bed with the covers lifted well over him like a cocoon, he cried. He cried for the loss of his body. He cried for the loss of his ability to think without remembering what that woman was doing to him while dribbles of tears streaked down his cheek. He cried for not being faithful to you.

He cried for his future with a soulmate who hated him for actions beyond his own control.

Though as Aemond dressed in appropriate clothes he brought with him for the special moment, his mind cannot help but think back to his earlier worries. Yet now, he is a man.

Aemond possesses the largest dragon in the world. Which to him even now was worthy of the trade of his eye. He is a scholar of history and philosophy whose work has even been submitted to the citadel to be placed in books that’ll be read by many accomplished people. He is even a greatly talented swordsman as said so by all those who have watched him train in the yard. He has become a man worthy of your love and your future.

Yet his hands still fumble about with the other whilst he follows a plain looking maid to the dining hall. He requested a meeting with you in private specifically in a place you were familiar with so you could be comfortable when meeting him. He may be a dragon, but he likes to imagine that he is no monster.

He sits there for what feels like hours. Picking at the skin above his nail until he can feel the blood pooling. He’s about to do it again to his final nail on his left hand, but then you walk in and everything stops. Only not for the reason he would’ve hoped it to have.

As he does not meet the eyes of his soulmate. Instead he meets nothing. He merely stares blankly at the veil that covers your whole face.

“What are you wearing?” He asks, glaring at the damned piece of fabric in his way.

“Clothes, my Prince.” You simply say, the sarcasm not annoying him like how Aegons does. Though Aegon was always just a twat. You appear to make it interesting and actually entertaining to take part in.

“Trust me, my lady, I can see just fine with one eye.” He smirks, silently seething at the prospect of being unable to see your face. He already knows you to be beautiful, it just irks him that he is unable to confirm it. “Why do you hide yourself?”

“What do you mean my Prince?”

“Why do you hide your face? Is there a chance you are afraid of me? Or of what you think I will see?” As soon as the words leave his lips he sees the way your body freezes up. “Do you wish to sit down my dear lady? I am sure it was never a part of your etiquette lessons to break fast while standing.”

You do not say anything as you move to sit in a seat near the middle of the table, and Aemond already in his mind is thinking that’s much too far away from him as he continues to sit at the end seat.

The two of you though stay silent as you both begin to eat the spread of food in front. From the corner of his eye he watches you, and it’s strange how he finds himself suddenly so jealous of the fruit you begin to eat. Jealous of the way those grapes get to go under your ridiculous veil and be touched by your lips, which Aemond already knows to be soft and oh so kissable. He has never seen them, but he just knows.

“Would you not be more comfortable without the veil my lady?” Aemond asks, watching carefully as you stop eating and turn your head to look at him.

“No, I am fine with my current predicament. Is it not more comfortable for you to not wear the eyepatch?” You quip back, with no doubt a smile on your face.

“I suppose you are right my lady,” Aemond drawls, watching the way your head tilts and the fabric concealing you from him lightly pressed against the curves of your face. “How about I propose this. I take off my patch, and you take off your veil?”

“I do not accept it!” You practically yell, your hands clenching so hard that Aemond could see even from where he sat the knuckles turning white.

“Besides…” You continue in a much softer tone like that of a burdened lady, which Aemond knows for sure is not true at all from what he has heard of your life story. “I am hideous to look at. This veil more protects you than it protects me my Prince I am sure of it.”

Aemond hums a response, but his eye says all as it trails over your covered body.

“So those who have told me in person how you are easily one of the prettiest maidens they have seen are lying then, are they my lady?” He reveals, watching you carefully so he can attempt to decipher your movements.

“They must be my Prince. As far as I have been told, I am the ugliest lady they have ever seen and how I shall die a spinster locked away in a tower!”

It’s strange, how when Aemond thinks of that actually happening his fists clenched tightly by his sides, and how he gets the overwhelming urge to maim those people claiming you to be so hideous. To make them so ugly and deformed and force them to sit all day everyday in front of a mirror so they can see the true meaning of being grotesque.

“You lie.” Aemond simply growls, his brow harshly furrowed from the mixture of anger from the idea of those insulting you and frustration from you still hiding your true identity from him.

He closes his eye and takes a minute to simply breathe past his anger. His body slowly tingly as he swears he feels your eyes piercing his soul.

“What if I strike a bargain with you, my sweet maiden?” Aemond says, the nickname oozing off his tongue with arrogance and self assurance.

“And why should I even think about striking a deal with you, my Prince?”

“Because I believe it shall benefit the both of us my lady. Now, do you wish to hear what I have in mind?”

“If you insist on telling me then I suppose I shall be obliged to hear words from the Prince of the realm.” You sigh, leaning your body to one side so your head is laying on the palm of your hand and Aemond gets another glimpse at how you look without truly seeing you.

“I suppose you are…” He says, leaning forward so his arms are fully lying on the table and his spine is slightly curved. “Still, the bargain I wish for you to partake in is this. I shall take off my eye patch so you can see what true grotesque is, and you my sweet maiden shall take off your good for nothing veil. Then I suppose we can see out of the two of us who is the most ugly, as you so bluntly put it.”

Aemond barely has a chance to blink before you're yelling a distinctive and firm “No” that manages to echo somehow in the room.

“Now now my sweet don’t be so resistant…” Aemond grins, tilting his head to one side as he finds himself delighted with how riled he’s made you. “You did not even consider it for a second.”

“Because I did not need to!” You bite back, slamming your hands against the wooden table so hard it manages to shake your plate still possessing some food and even your goblet too. “If I do not wish to show you you have no right to force me!”

“Oh, but I’m afraid I do my sweet maiden…” He says, getting up from his chair so he can oh so slowly make his way over to where you appear to sit frozen in your own chair. “As a prince, I have power where you do not. Now, I do not wish to abuse such power for situations like this one. I do not like to abuse my power in general in any situation. But I may find myself very willing to show you what it is I am capable of. Do you understand me maiden?”

Aemond pauses for a moment as he watches the way the veil moves with every shallow breath you take before he does something that leaves his own heart beating frantically in his chest from every emotion possible to feel.

Aemond slowly peels off his eyepatch to reveal to you a shining blue sapphire surrounded by deep scarred flesh before chucking the piece of dark brown leather onto the table in front of you.

“I have completed my end of our bargain my sweet lady. Now complete yours, before I get impatient.”

You sigh deeply and Aemond cannot help but feel his heartbeat thrice as hard in his chest from anticipation alone. He yearns to see your eyes, your lips, your nose, your everything If only you should allow him too.

So when your hands slowly move to entangle themselves in where the veil begins from within your hair, his heart feels as though he fully stops when the veil is slowly pulled away and the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life stares back at him.

“Gevie” He cannot help but murmur as his eye moves over your whole face and his body is forced to sit down in the chair next to you so he can focus on looking solely at you.

“What does it mean?” You ask, though Aemond barely registers it as he’s entranced with how your lips move with each syllable.

“Beautiful.”

There is a rare silence between the two as they each take time now looking at each other. You stare at the sapphire that glints when the sunlight beaming through the window hits it. While Aemond now looks properly at your eye, which he has discovered is a whole different color than the other. And when you blink and reveal the delicate flower imprinted on your eyelid, he cannot help but gape and gasp slightly.

“Did I do that?” He asks, pure horror in his tone and words.

“It was done a long time ago my Prince,” You simply say, smiling slightly in a strange way to comfort him. “And in a way, I suppose it was done by whoever took out your own eye. I do not expect you to suddenly reveal to me that you tore it out yourself. So therefore, you should have no more guilt than the person truly responsible.”

“I’ll kill the bastard!” Aemond growls, anger spilling from him in waves as he thinks of his nephew whose crime has gone on for too long.

“Careful my Prince. Those are dangerous words you are saying about children of the crown. You are lucky it is only me who is here.” You smile.

At first, you were so defensive and so sure the veil would hinder the Prince from prying about what was underneath it. You had thought of him like how you thought of all other men, and that when challenged with the prospect of an ugly woman he would not care and move on. Yet you suppose the gods do like to play tricks in the unlikeliest of places.

He had worn you down with the harshest of phrases and the most defensive body language, yet when you saw him at his most vulnerable with his sapphire shown bare to you you could not help but allow the overwhelming feeling of awe take over you while you stared at him.

As you unmasked yourself before him however and saw his own look of awe while he stared at all your features that had once been so carefully hidden from him, you could not deny the way your heart beat loud in your chest.

Even the way he murmured in his unique Valyrian tongue made you feel a strange feeling of specialness. As if no other woman had been seduced by those same words.

As you spoke to each other, your tongue slowly loosed as it felt for some reason so right to do so. You joking with the Prince felt so natural and yet so foreign at the same time.

“I suppose I am lucky my lady that it is you who sits there.” He says in response to your dangerous quip about his nephews, whose mother if she had heard yours or Prince Aemonds words would’ve surely sharply questioned you for them with no thought of mercy. “Though I suppose I am even more lucky that it is no ordinary woman who sits before me.”

He waits for a moment to see if you will guess his next words. But to be honest he almost forgets them himself as he gets distracted staring at your bottom lip which you bite between your teeth.

“I am lucky as it is my soulmate who sits before me as beautiful as the maiden herself.”

You feel like all the air in your lungs has left and you're gasping for air. Yet it's not as painful as you thought. In fact, it's rather remarkable to feel yourself burn in the presence of a dragon.

Still, even with this miraculous feeling within you, you cannot help but think of how your soulmate treated you but moments before. Arrogant. Selfish. Coercive. Your soulmate forced you to show yourself to him when you were uncomfortable. Did you really want to be fated to be with that person for the rest of your life?

"What's wrong my love?" Aemond asks, seeing the anxious expression on your face.

"How is it you can be so kind to me, when not even what I can guess to be less than half of an hour ago you were treating me as if I were some sort of shit on your shoe?" You ask, looking him dead in the eye as his body appears to freeze up before you.

If you weren't so focused on forcing the truth from a prince of the realm, you would think that it was actually very thrilling and sort of empowering to force a prince into silence.

"I did not mean to treat you like that." He begins, his head tilted to the floor so you cannot see his eyes and his neatly kept hair falls forward like a sort of curtain either side of his face. "I am sorry I was harsh on you. I suppose... I suppose I was scared."

Oh?

"All of my life, since I was a child, I was praying for you. For my soulmate to come into my life. And I suppose after all that time passing without you turned me bitter and angry that the gods did not hear my pleas. My feelings only became more sour when finally in front of you, instead of immediately accepting me and welcoming me you denounced me and spurned me with your words."

"You really thought I would jump into your arms like some sort of innocent lovesick maiden?" You say, staring at the man in front of you in disbelief. Aemond for the first time since his confession looks up at you from his curtain of silver locks, disbelief in his own stare as he listens to your honest words.

"Aemond, the idea of being tied to someone for the rest of my life was challenging for me as a child. Before the loss of your eye, all I had felt was mere stings. Yet feeling the pain I felt that day, it frightened me. I was a child-"

"I WAS A CHILD TOO!" Aemond yells, standing up so suddenly and leaning over you that you shriek a little in fear. “I was the one experiencing it first hand! The one who had to be held down by maesters and stared at by all as milk of the poppy was forced down my throat so maesters could tear out my eye with no true concern for me! YOU DID NOT HAVE TO GO THROUGH THAT AS YOU LAID ABED WHINING LIKE SPOILT CHILD!”

“DO NOT YELL AT ME!” You find the courage to say, standing up and pushing him away so he stumbles a couple steps back in surprise. “I get that you are angry and believe the entire world hates you! But do not blame me because you cannot be angry at those truly deserving of it! Do not yell at me because you are forbidden from getting your revenge on your bastard nephew! Do you understand me?!”

Aemond, in the same manner as that of a kicked dog, nods a yes to your question. Though when you glare hard at him to tell him that answer is unacceptable he quickly fumbles for words that eventually make it out to be heard.

“Thank you.” You simply say, stepping forward to show him how he has earned that step. “I understand you were disappointed I was not there for you. But you need to understand I was scared about it all. Scared of my future, scared of what was to come. Do you even get how scared that must’ve been for me?”

“Yes I understand that.” Aemond says, stepping a single step closer and pausing to see if you allow it which you do. “I am sorry for not thinking of you when you yourself were obviously hurting yourself. I was selfish-“

“It is not selfish, Aemond, to act like how you did.” As you speak, you step that last final step towards your soulmate and place an admittedly cautious hand onto his cheek. Though you think what surprises you most is when he immediately closes his eye and pushes his cheek hard against your palm. “I forgive you Aemond, even when I don’t know if I ever should for how you treated me.”

“I do not truly expect you to.” Aemond murmurs, his eye still closed as he savors your warmth against his cheek. “Though I vow here before you as not just your soulmate but as a man, that I’ll make it my life’s mission to form myself as a man worthy for you. To form myself into what you deserve.”

“Though I suppose that’s the strangest thing about our whole meeting.” You whisper, placing your other hand on the part of Aemonds face where the dark brutal mark that is his scar takes most of its space. It forces a somehow now calm and content Aemond to all of a sudden open his eye and even gasp so silently you almost barely hear it when your thumb slowly traces the raised yet soft skin of the scar that has defined him for so long.

“I don’t find myself wishing you to change to be better. I find myself wishing for you to stay how you are, even if you may hurt me.”

And with that, without either of you knowing whose fault it truly is, your limbs find comfort with each other, and all feels right.

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