#now here's hoping for a second banner in this event

[lo1k-diamonds]

Make It Right 💜 Part 1

Would you do anything different if you could?

PAIRING: Idol!Jungkook x (f) Reader

SUMMARY: After the last concert in Busan, Jungkook decides to stay at his parents' and make the best of that pause. He never dreamed he would have the chance to meet you again, but now that he has, he won't give up. This is his chance to make things right.

WORD COUNT: 13.6k

GENRE: Idol AU, childhood friends to lovers, reunions, angst

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: arguing, resentment, JK said stupid things as a teenager, heartache, angst, semi-public mutual masturbation, nipple play, dry humping, fingering, handjob, cum eating, reader calls Jungkook by his actual name (Jeongguk), reader has a nickname

A.N. I have so much to say!!! First, thank you so much for 1k followers 🙏💜 To think that there are one thousand people in this world who like my stories makes me very emotional, it's crazy, and I'm incredibly touched and grateful for all the positive interactions and love for my stories! A fun fact about this story is that I had the idea for it the day of the Yet To Come concert 🥲😅 Oh yes, am I late or what 🤣 It's been years and I miss them so... I think I needed to write this even more. I really like the dynamic in this fic... Try not to fall in love with JK ;) This is my entry for Bangtan Writers HQ's Second Quarter 2025 event: ‘Home Is Where The Heart Is’, and a huge thank you to @downbad4yoongi Jasz for helping me fine-tune this one 💜 Now before you reach the end, remember there will be a part 2 😇 Enjoy 💜

(Thank you @eerieedits for the cool banner 💜)

Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Part 2 >

Jungkook woke up with a groan, hugging the pillow under him. Its perfume made him smile instantly, but his toes touching the footboard made him grin.

He rolled over, instantly sensing he was just on the edge of his childhood bed. Opening his eyes, he stayed still as the daylight scarcely lit up the room and just looked around. There were toys and medals on the shelves alongside children’s books and photos of him as a baby and a kid. The small desk in the corner was just as he remembered, prepared for him to do his homework. The fact that his legs wouldn’t fit under it anymore made him chuckle and sit up.

His parents were rarely loud in the morning, even when he was a child. Still, it wasn’t every day that he crashed here with no plans to leave immediately after. Actually, he realized that this hadn’t happened in twelve years, give or take. He sighed, listening to his mother’s muffled voice as she spoke with someone outside.

His curiosity got him out of bed, taking a peek out of the window through a narrow gap between the heavy light-blue curtains. Instantly, pure delight curved his lips as he saw the neighbour in the garden. Twelve years may have passed, but nothing changed.

He found the closest pair of sweats and a t-shirt and got dressed in a flash, making his way downstairs. He could still hear his mother talking to the neighbor as he pushed the front door open quietly, hoping he’d get outside before the conversation ended.

He knew he succeeded when the neighbor gasped, “Aigoo, Jungkook! You’re so grown up!”

“Imo-nim!” He exclaimed brazenly, making his mother sigh and try to snipe him once he was out the door with slippers. “You’re visiting today?”

The woman, his mother’s age, laughed happily, bowing her head to his deep, full body bows while his mother whispered, “You’re no longer a child!”

“Nobody else calls me that!” She laughed, quickly telling his mother, “It’s fine! If not him, then who? It’s so good to see you, your mother is so happy to have her baby boy home.”

Jungkook grinned at his mother, who easily pouted, then turned to the neighbor again. “As soon as I heard you two talking, I knew I was home.”

His mother smacked his arm playfully while the neighbor, who was his mother’s lifelong best friend, laughed again.

“He is as charming as he is on TV!”

He bowed again, his smile lingering, and promptly let his mother continue their conversation about his visit.

“Oh, and I saw the concert on TV! Soooo cool,” she gave him a thumbs up as she went on about all of BTS looking so great in concert. “Putting Busan on the map for the whole country! I told your mother we’re all so proud of you! Now, on to the military, right? Tough, but an important duty.”

Jungkook’s smile held as he nodded, letting his mind wander. Not that he felt ready to go on to the military right away, especially after just announcing BTS’s hiatus.

Before he could gently tell her that, her phone rang. As her friend was distracted, his mother made sure to brush his hair out of his eyes properly.

“You just woke up? You haven’t even showered? Or ate?” Her tone and demeanor were just as sweet and caring as always. “Just so you know your father went to get more meat; can’t have you starving while you’re home. Maybe you should go back inside? We don’t want people to find out where you are.”

He quickly hugged his mom and squeezed her gently, lifting her so her feet wouldn’t touch the ground for a second. “It’s fine. I want to be here without worries for just a little bit.”

“Ahhh,” the neighbor interrupted them, putting the phone back inside her handbag. “Mimi is here to pick me up.”

“Mimi?” he asked out loud before he could help himself. He hadn’t heard that name in a long time.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she smiled. “Do you remember her?”

“Of course, I do,” he confirmed quietly.

“Come say hi, then!”

She left his mother’s garden and made her way to the main road at the end of the driveway. Jungkook was frozen for a moment, but his mother beckoned him to follow along, and finally, his feet began to move. She probably didn’t mean you, even though that was your nickname and—

It was like a dream when he saw you getting out of the car. Your face had all the telltale signs that you were forced to personally get your mother if you wanted to have any chances of leaving with her today, and the way his mother greeted you made it even more apparent.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting, Mimi!”

Jungkook’s stomach somersaulted. Mimi. The name he gave you because he couldn’t pronounce your name right when you were kids. And now, you were right there with long, luscious hair falling over your shoulders, and dressed in dark blue professional attire that made him wonder where you were going.

“It’s alright, Mrs Jeon. I already know the drill,” you said after you gave your cheerful mother a look. Then you bowed deeply, respectfully, and he kept waiting, anticipating the moment your eyes would meet. “We’re going to be late,” you said as you raised an eyebrow at your mother.

“Oh, come on,” your mother insisted playfully. “Don’t you want to say hi?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs Jeon,” you bowed deeply by the waist again. “But we’ll be late.”

You didn’t look at him, not once. You got back inside your car, and your mother quickly followed you after apologizing for the rush, and then you were gone. Like a mirage, like a product of his wildest imagination. And he stood there in silence, watching you disappear. 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” his mother commented, next to him. He nodded.

“Jungkook, stay with Mimi, okay?”

Jungkook looked up at his mom and nodded, staying next to you while she figured things out at the counter. He was so excited, he couldn’t stop grinning. The sounds of the pins being knocked down, the bowling balls rolling along, and the music made it the best birthday party ever!

He could already see most of his classmates arriving, and so could you. Yet unlike him, you pursed your lips in an angry pout.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, confused about why you’d be angry. You had given him the idea and even helped him convince his mom.

You looked at him with watery eyes, your short hair cut just above them, much like his own hair. “The whole class is here.”

“Isn’t it cool?!” He wanted to jump around and go crazy, but when he looked at you, you looked sad. “What?”

“Well… Youngsook and Seohyeon said the prettiest girl and the most handsome boy in class should date.”

His face twisted in all sorts of ways. “What?”

“They mean you,” you pointed out, teary-eyed, and he laughed.

“What are you talking about?” 

“Jungkook, Mimi, come,” his mother called, reaching to grab his hand, and he impulsively started pulling her, eager to get his birthday party started as soon as possible.

Yet suddenly, his heart felt heavy. He forced himself to stay still and look beyond his mother, trying to see you, but you were looking away, out of reach.

Jungkook woke up with a start, pushing the covers away and spreading his legs to cool off as much as possible. His feet dangled from his childhood bed as he took deep breaths, annoyed that he was sweating.

His chest was suddenly filled with feelings he had long thought forgotten alongside memories he didn’t even know he was still holding on to.

He closed his eyes; he remembered that birthday party. It was an amazing celebration; he seldom had as much fun as when he turned thirteen. That was his last party in Busan before leaving for Seoul, when everything changed.

He rubbed his eyes and got up, finding a set of clothes and a bucket hat so he could go out. His phone showed him it was 00:47, but he didn’t care. He needed a bit of air, and walking around in the neighbourhood he grew up in had to be safe. He needed to believe he still had that piece of normalcy in his life.

He walked down the illuminated suburban street calmly. For the first time in over a decade, he had time. He could slow down, go down memory lane, and recall the streets he used to bike or walk almost every day. He could finally think about seeing you for the first time in over a decade.

It had to be why he was dreaming of you. Though perhaps it wasn’t the only reason. He sometimes dreamed of you when he was really stressed, and paradoxically, this time, you were the cause of his stress. Why wouldn’t you even look at him? He could understand you had lost touch, many years had gone by, and you didn’t have to be best of friends again. But still. Your moms were still the closest friends, and your families were neighbours. The least you could have done was say hi. Or let him see the recognition in your eyes after so many years.

He chuckled when he saw a familiar playground on the street corner. He strolled idly in its direction and instantly made his way to the swings. Both your moms knew a lot about their children, but he doubted that even they knew you two sneaked out after bedtime to meet there, especially during school breaks. He sat on the swing, letting the quiet night soothe him. It was the only time you had, between school and cram schools, to play a bit and talk. Jungkook didn’t remember most of it, but at least it gave his heart a fuzzy feeling.

Before he could reminisce further, he heard a quiet noise and turned on the swing to check. Everything looked empty until suddenly he heard rustling and saw someone crawling out of the nearby tunnel.

“You’re kidding,” you grumbled, getting up, and he paused.

Not only were you hiding in the place that both of you used to hide in, but you looked… different. Your hair was still over your shoulders, but now you were wearing a sweater and sweatpants, much like his, in the same black color, but a different brand. For a split second, he thought he caught your eyes, but they instantly dodged to the side. It made him miss the first beat, but not a second one.

He got up, eager to take this opportunity, and bowed as respectfully as he could at the waist. Instead of bowing back, you huffed, and the first thing he noticed when he straightened up was that you weren’t just avoiding looking at him. You didn’t want to acknowledge him.

“I’m leaving first.”

“No, wait.” He was firm, unlike when he had seen you earlier. The more this distance was confirmed between you, the more he needed to get to the bottom of it. “How are you?”

He could see the way your jawline sharpened as you said, “Are you going to take off that stupid hat?”

His fingers moved automatically, taking off the bucket hat and running through his hair. And finally, he was able to lock eyes with yours. You didn’t just look incredible, you looked breath-taking, like nothing his imagination could have made up. Your cheekbones were more defined, your lips fuller, your eyes…

He got lost for a moment until you looked away. 

“How are you?” he asked again, unable to give up.

You licked your lips. “Good, and you?”

He smiled. “Good. I missed this.”

He raised his hand, meaning to include everything, the streets, the park, the quiet, the night, you… And you bristled.

“Well, then.” Your curt head nod was enough for him to know you wanted to leave, but he had to push for more.

“Wait. It’s been so long, I—I can’t help being curious. How have you been? What have you been up to?”

You shrugged slightly. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Your eyes weren’t letting him see anything, and everything about you exuded stoicism. He couldn’t help but chuckle “You’re not going to tell me? Is it a secret?”

“I can’t imagine why you’d need my credentials.”

“Credentials? I’m just curious about an old friend.”

“If you’re curious, you can ask your mom.” Your shoulders squared as you crossed your arms over your chest. “She knows about as much as mine does.”

His brow furrowed. “Well… I have asked, of course. But I want to hear from you.”

“I have nothing to tell you,” you stated, bowing curtly and spinning around to leave.

“This isn’t right,” he voiced his thoughts out loud, and didn’t even expect you to turn back to look at him, but you did. “You’re treating me worse than you would a stranger.”

You didn’t have to answer; rolling your eyes was enough.

“Why?” he asked more sternly.

“I just don’t want anything to do with you.”

“What?” He couldn’t believe his ears. “Why?”

“Because.”

His expression sombered. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Why do you think you did something?” Your arms crossed over your chest again.

“Call it a hunch.”

Jungkook didn’t imagine something like this would ever happen. He wasn’t just back home, retracing the steps of his childhood; he was reuniting with you. Facing you, confronting you, more like. His heart thumped, like it did when he was waiting to get on stage, eager but no longer restless. Like he wanted to do his best, and he was ready. And facing your harsh stare, he realized that was precisely what this was. Because one thing was to have lost you to time, another was to find out you hated him, and he didn’t even know why.

You scoffed, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t see why you’d care.”

“I’m here, asking you.”

“Right, missing this. Well, then, do what you have to do and leave.”

“Is it hard seeing me or something?” He stepped forward, and you didn’t flinch. 

“Pretending you care? Yeah, it’s hard!”

“Pretending? I’m not—”

You rolled your eyes again, cutting him off, “You show up here after how many years, saying you miss this?”

“It’s been twelve years since—”

“Twelve! Well, forgive me for calling you out on your bullshit. If you want to be pampered, ask literally anyone else.”

“I’m not asking to be pampered, and there's no one else here,” he pointed out, now so close to you that he could finally see the freckles on your nose. It made his stomach flutter. “Why would you doubt I miss this? You, of all people?”

Your eyes widened suddenly as though you were about to explode, but then you subsided. ���Yeah, me. Of all people, I would know that it's bullshit.”

A spark of anger took over the flutters in his stomach. “How can you say that?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, give me a break. Do you hear yourself? Perhaps you're so used to the sound of your voice that you forgot to think about what you're saying.” His eyes were sharp now as the anger you stirred up spread through his chest. “Maybe everyone else is so charmed by your face that you can never be wrong. Well, I'm here to tell you to your face that coming back here, pretending you give a fuck is comical at best, and hypocrisy at worst. So do what you have to do and leave.”

He could see the anger in your eyes, and he was starting to share the same feeling. And yet, it was just that. After seeing the spark in your gaze, the firmness of your belief, and finding you in your special hiding place, the way you thought he was self-centered and narcissistic didn't even bother him. Of course, he didn't want you to feel that way about him. He was eager to change your mind, but he was so happy you two were talking that he kinda just wanted to smile and hug you and ask so many questions.

He couldn’t, though. “Good,” he muttered. “Good that you're here to tell me to my face why you'd think this way.”

Your cheeks gained the lightest hue, and he licked his lip ring.

“Usually, people's words match their actions,” you said. “That's how you get them to believe you.”

“And mine don't?”

“No, they don't.”

You lowered your eyes, and he couldn’t let it end there. “How do you know?” You scoffed, and he insisted, “How would you know how I feel? Or how much I missed this place? Or how many times I came here in the middle of the night instead of sleeping, despite how packed my schedule was, just because I missed all of this.”

His heart shook with the words out of his mouth, only to be met with your angry expression. “I would have known.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you stated, sure of yourself.

“You live in this park, do you?”

You sneered, “I would have seen you. Crossed paths with you. Heard that you were in town or—”

“My mom doesn't know half the time when I'm going to visit, since I don't know it myself,” he explained. “So, unless you live here, how would you know—”

“Oh, shut up!” you snapped angrily. “You were never here and you never cared!”

“Why would you say that?!”

“Because you never once reached out!”

“Neither did you!”

“You left!” Your shout echoed in the night. “You left, so why would I?”

He didn't let himself overthink. “Because you wanted to talk to me again.”

His heart thumped at the possibility and skipped when you admitted, “Sure, I did. Did you? Did you ever want to talk to me again?”

“Yes,” he breathed.

“I don't believe you.” You shook your head. “Even when I think all the way back, you were already acting distant before you left. Too busy with your own things to notice anything or anyone else. You already didn't care back then.”

He frowned. “I always cared. But it's true I had a lot going on back then. I was stressing about getting into a good school, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Your expression closed off as you nodded. Your voice was quiet, as though his admission settled it. “I'm happy you did, and that everything worked out for you.”

“Then why would you be so mad about this? I mean, I’m not thrilled about it, but it happened like it happened.”

“Oh for fucks sake, Jeongguk!” you blew up again, and he had to fist his hands at his sides not to impulsively grab you somehow. “You left! And left everything and everyone behind!”

You were finally talking, and he was so eager to hear you that he was almost leaning toward you. “Everything? What are you talking about?”

“You got into a good school in Seoul and moved, and everything was gone,” you insisted, with the strength behind your words waning. “We were the closest friends, and then suddenly you left and…” You visibly swallowed, then faced him again. “I was…” It must have been harder than you thought because you needed a second try to reveal, “I had a silly crush on you. You were my best friend. There were a lot of things I wanted us to do together. For a thirteen-year-old girl, it was all very new and at the center of everything. You didn’t care about any of it until you did, and I didn’t know how to deal with any of it, obviously. I honestly didn't even know what was happening. I thought I’d have time to bring up those things, to—” You cut yourself short. “I never had the time.”

“What things?” He got even closer, searching in your eyes. “Tell me what things.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, deflating a little bit as you stepped back. “I’m over it now.”

“You don’t sound over it.” He followed you with his eyes. “You sound angry.”

“I’m not.”

Your eyes stayed low, and he pursed his lips, unable to believe you but wary to insist.

“Well, I obviously had no idea you had a crush on me.” Saying it out loud had a smile blossoming on his face that he immediately tried to tone down. Your eyes showed vulnerability again, and he licked his lip ring before continuing, “Honestly, those sorts of feelings took a while to appear. I only realized I had a crush on you so much later.”

Your eyes hardened as you scoffed. “Why are you lying?”

“What? I’m not.” He instantly frowned. 

“You are.”

“Mimi,” he called, not knowing exactly why his heart felt so heavy. “I’m not lying.”

“Wait, let me try to remember your exact words…” You mused, tapping your chin. “She’s just like a boy, with short hair and everything,” you said, looking so firmly into his eyes, he needed a moment to catch up. “I could have called her hyung and nobody would have noticed.”

His stomach instantly churned. “You— You heard me say that?”

“Yes.”

“At my mom’s BTS debut party?”

“Yes.”

“You… heard us talk?”

“Yes.”

He groaned, nervously raking his fingers through his hair to get it out of his eyes. “Is that why you left that day? And I never got to see you?” You stayed quiet, but now he knew the answer. “My mom said you were so sick you were crying, I was so worried, and it was because—”

“Worried?” you interrupted with a sneer. “You’re funny.”

“I was worried!”

“If you really were, you would have come next door to say something!”

“I had to leave the next day and thought you didn’t want to see me!”

“I went to your house, you were the one who couldn't bother to send a stupid message when you were worried that I was sick!”

“Because my mom said you never once asked about me. When your mom said you were really sick, I thought—” He groaned. “I thought you had faked it just so that you wouldn’t bother putting up with me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you said, and he scoffed. You insisted, “It is.”

“And you never asking about me is normal?”

“You left,” you deadpanned. “With no goodbyes and no messages, I had to hear it from my mom.”

His stomach turned. “Wait a minute.”

“Then three years later, that was what you had to say about me!”

“I was sixteen! And so stupid! My hyungs knew I had a crush before I did, and by then… I had nothing on my mind but work.”

You pursed your lips, and the way you moved away stung him. He could see that he was losing you, that everything had eroded and disintegrated much more than he thought. But he had a chance to tell you everything now and right his wrongs, and he would. No matter how much it hurt to reopen old wounds.

“When I said that, I had spent the last three years forgetting about you. I wasn't about to admit to Jimin that I still thought about you and missed you, not after working so hard to let go, and not when we were just debuting and everything was so hard.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“When I moved to Seoul, everything changed. I never had the chance to say goodbye, and it weighed on me a lot. Just a phone call all of a sudden about a school opening, and hours later, I was already there. I still remember crying in the car and my mom promising she'd talk to you.” His smile was painful as he shook his head. “But she stayed with me for a while in Seoul, so I guess she just called your mom instead. A lot was going on; it just happened too fast.”

You stood quiet, just listening as you probably matched his words with what you knew, and he kept going.

“Everything was harder than I thought it would be. I knew nobody in Seoul, but it wasn't just that. You weren't there anymore, and I never knew how overwhelming it would all be. I'd ask about you, and you were doing well, with good grades and plenty of friends. You forgot all about me when I missed you every single day.”

“That's not true.”

He couldn’t help but scoff as he teared up with the memories. “See how everything is a matter of perspective? It took me three years of working day and night to feel remotely confident. Without you, I— I had to learn to be confident and make friends without you.”

“You were always the popular one,” you said cautiously.

“Because I had you backing me up!” he affirmed, stepping closer to you. “Every time I looked to the side, you'd give me that grin, and I knew that you had me, no matter what. That nothing could go wrong.”

He could see the pain in your eyes; maybe you were starting to get it.

“You mean you were lonely?”

“For a very long time,” he confirmed.

You shook your head, unsettled. “That's crazy. If you needed me… why didn't you say something?”

“I did,” he confessed with a smile that surely revealed the ache he felt at the time. “I was under a lot of pressure not to waste that opportunity. I had no social media and trained day and night. Whenever I'd speak with my mom, she'd just tell me to work hard, that everyone was proud, and that she'd pass it on to you. Until the day I asked if you asked about me, and she said not really.”

“I didn't ask about anything!” You crossed your arms over your chest. “My best friend left without a word. How do you think I felt?”

“Lonely,” he replied, looking into your eyes. “Though probably not as much as me.”

Your lips trembled. “I… Shit, I… I was so angry that I just refused to talk about you, even when my mom or yours wanted to tell me things.” Your confession brought tears to your eyes, and it stung Jungkook’s chest. “I don’t remember how things happened at school or anything, I just remember going to school and home alone every day and… coming here to be alone until I just… I was angry. I heard your mom telling mine you had changed, but I… I refused to ask when you clearly didn’t care, so I just—”

You were holding back tears, and he just nodded, assuring you gently, “It’s okay. We were kids.”

“Then you debuted.” You managed to look at him, and he realized he couldn’t stop breathing in your presence. Your every word. “And I thought, well, at least it was for something. I wanted to support you, even though I cried a lot.”

You chuckled to hide a snifle, and he was worried. “Why did you cry?” he asked.

“I don’t know…” Your gaze wandered, thinking back. “I don’t know if I was proud or grieving. Because I felt left behind, but perhaps that was worth it, because you made it. You were on TV, being amazing, looking so cool,” your voice wavered as you wiped the tears from your cheeks. “Of course, you had to leave and go to Seoul and be amazing. A true friend wouldn’t hold you back.”

Your shoulders trembled, and you turned around to hide the tears that kept falling despite your best attempts to keep them in. You didn’t see him stepping forward or his fingers twitching. You couldn’t know how much his heart ached at learning all this.

“I missed you every day,” was all he could say.

You chuckled, but he could hear the fragility in your voice. “It’s fine. It’s good that everything turned out well.” After several sniffles, you took a deep breath and turned back to look at him. “I may have been angry, but I never wished for you to be unhappy. I’m happy your dreams came true.”

He scanned your face in silence as you handled your tears. He had so much he wanted to say about how much he missed you, but it didn’t feel right to insist. He could feel the distance between the two of you grow whenever he voiced his feelings, whether because you didn’t believe him or it hurt too much.

So he didn’t insist. “So… you are our fan, then?”

He tried a light tone and was mesmerized when you laughed. “Absolutely not!”

He smiled. “Why not?”

“I mean, at first I was,” you explained with a faint smile. “I wanted to support my friend, or, well, you know.” You were embarrassed enough that you weren’t looking at him. “Until that time when your mom wanted to celebrate your debut, and I heard you saying those things about me. I was so upset, I threw away everything BTS-related and swore I’d never look at anything related to you again.”

He groaned and rubbed his face. “All because I said something so stupid…”

You shrugged and looked away, and when he revealed his face, he licked his lip ring nervously.

“I said all manner of stupid things back then, especially about… I didn’t know how to handle my feelings,” he hurriedly explained. “I wanted to come off strong and cool. To think you had a crush on me back then… Honestly, I was so blind to it all.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow. “To it all? No, you weren’t.”

“What do you mean?”

You shrugged casually. “You dated Seo Soyeon before you left.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in bewilderment, as though he had no idea what you were talking about. Then, his eyebrows jumped. “Seo Soyeon? Oh my— I had forgotten all about that. They pushed for it, the class couple or whatever. I didn't care.”

“She was your first kiss.”

Your voice was small, and he shrugged with a small smile. “I didn't realize then what that meant. Now, it doesn't matter anymore, but for a while, I wished it had been different. More special.”

As he spoke, he remembered how he had revolted once he was mature enough to realize what had happened. He still remembered complaining about it to Jimin, frustrated that he had let it happen like that instead of realizing that whoever his lips touched should be memorable. Especially after Jimin asked if he had ever kissed you, since he assumed Jungkook’s best friend would have surely been his first.

“Right. You're right,” you agreed, still lost in your thoughts. “It doesn't matter anymore.”

“Who was your first?” Jungkook could have kicked himself for asking you so directly, but your answer was automatic.

“Yoon Jiryun.”

“Ahh…” Jungkook pressed his lips. He remembered the boy with the glasses who ran super fast. But he didn’t know what to do with this information now that he had it, especially since it made his stomach feel funny. “I… hope it was nice.”

You nodded. “It was nice.”

Your certainty made him smile. “You mean it wasn't in front of the whole class by sheer peer pressure?”

He saw the second it dawned on you. “That's… I'm so sorry, that must have been horrible!”

He shrugged. “It wasn't great, but hey. It was a long time ago.”

You looked at him, still with worry on your light frown, then your eyes shifted behind him. Jungkook was so focused on looking at you and appreciating that newfound connection that he didn’t expect you to step forward. His stomach instantly fluttered as he held his breath, but then you moved to the side. He saw you as you put your handbag down and sat on the swing next to the one he was on before.

“I dated him for a couple of years in high school,” you started, and Jungkook didn’t hesitate to sit on the swing next to yours. “He was very supportive of me when I was going through the worst of it.”

“You had issues in high school?”

“Who doesn't?”

“Fair.”

“He was very patient and supportive, even when he knew I was pissed about… you know.”

“What?”

“My former best friend saying stupid shit.”

“You were dating him then?” he asked instantly, surprised.

“No, a few months after that. I'm thankful for him. He made me feel pretty and special after my crush said I looked like a boy.”

He sighed. “Your crush was an idiot. A foolish idiot.”

“You can stop that now.”

“It's true,” he insisted, taking a look at you, even though you were staring ahead. It wasn’t lost on him that you just implied you still had a crush on him at sixteen. If only he had seen you that day. He sighed again. “You know, I don't remember when, but around when we graduated, my mother showed me a photo of our class, and I saw you. I was so shocked,” he breathed, remembering that moment. “You had long hair,” he chuckled, glancing at you to find your eyes this time. “In my mind, you looked and dressed the same, but at that moment, I realized we both had changed. I had my ears pierced, and you had long hair. I was happy. And sad.”

“Sad? Why?”

“Just… because. I didn't see it happen. That made me think back, which at that time I couldn't handle.” He laced his arms around the swing chains and, looking into your eyes, he knew he didn’t want to hide anything. “Everything related to before training is… clouded. I don't remember everything anymore. What I remember most are moments of us together. Like coming here to play at this hour after sneaking out.”

You smirked and looked around the park as though suddenly reminded it was probably almost two in the morning. “We were crazy.”

“Maybe. But I liked it when it was just the two of us talking about… whatever we talked about at the time.”

“I can't remember either,” you confessed, and when you looked at him, he had the most amazing desire to laugh, and you both did quietly. “I thought you would have forgotten about all of that.”

He shook his head. “Not that. It makes me who I am.”

You nodded. “I get that. What you said that one time marked me so much, I’ve never cut my hair above my chest since.”

His heart dropped as he forced his swing to stand still, unlike you, who kept a gentle sway. “I’m so sorry!” You nodded but kept your back and forth, your eyes on the floor, and he didn’t know why, but it felt like he was desperately trying to hold onto grains of sand slipping between his fingers. “I should never have said that, and your hair was beautiful back then, as it is now. I was just stupid!”

“It’s fine,” you assured him. “Like you said, we were kids, and it makes us who we are.”

His expression hardened. “I meant that in a positive way. To think that what you remember most about me is something stupid and harmful I said makes me sick to my stomach.”

“It’s fine,” you repeated, still looking at the floor absentmindedly. “It was painful, but it’s in the past.”

Jungkook didn’t feel like it was okay, much less in the past. Not when he could still see the traces of pain in your eyes or feel in his gut that his fate was sealed. All you’d ever see was the sixteen-year-old boy who needed to deny his feelings because he feared the alternative would block him even more. Who, by saying whatever stupid thing that came to mind, had inflicted a wound instead of being the one who looked after you. No wonder you hated him. He hadn’t just left; he had actively made you feel less even when you meant the world to him.

“Would you do anything different if you could?”

Your voice was gentle and reflective, and he pushed away the tears. “Definitely. Miscommunications can happen at all ages, but it wouldn’t have happened like this if I had asked to talk to you directly. If we had talked, everything would have been easier for both of us. But I think it could have also been harder for you. Because the distance would always be there, and it took me way too long to figure out how much you meant to me.”

“Maybe… Well… It wasn’t meant to be. You’re right, you’re always in Seoul. We would have drifted apart anyway.”

“Maybe not… that wouldn’t happen with the right person, right?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not sure. It was different then. Our lives were different and our worlds were small. It’s all different now.”

Somehow, your words didn’t make him feel any better, even while implying that you might have been the right person for him once. Because it also implied that he had missed that window. He had missed the opportunity to have you in his life, to be with you, to be the one who made you feel pretty and special.

He sighed. “You still haven't told me what you've been up to,” he hinted, deciding a lighter topic would be best for his heart. “It's unfair, you know about me.”

He said it payfully, and you chuckled. “Who doesn't? I tried to stay away, but you're everywhere.”

“Yeah, I… get it.”

You glanced at him, and fortunately, your expression was light. “I've become an interpreter and a translator. I’m mostly connected with the tourism department of Busan, but I also consult for other institutions.”

His eyes widened. He would have never guessed.

“Your concert really gave me a lot of work,” you teased, giving him a look, and he instantly bowed.

“Thank you for your hard work.”

You bowed back. “Thank you for doing this event in Busan.”

He had to grin after a few more head bows back and forth as though they were competing for who would bow last. “You've become great at something I struggle with.”

You raised your eyebrows. “English?” He nodded and saw the surprise on your face. Yet you quickly smirked. “And you? I sing horribly.”

He grinned. “You were never easy on the ears…”

You kicked his foot, and he chuckled, his grin bigger than ever.

“But that's okay,” he assured. “I sing enough for us both.”

Your smile faltered ever so slightly, and so did his.

“What about Yoon Jiryun?” he asked, changing the subject. “Did you guys see each other after high school?”

“No, he studied computer science in Seoul and got married last year.”

“Woah!”

“Yeah, I don't know how he did it,” you voiced incredulously, and he raised a quizzical eyebrow. “I mean, getting married is expensive. The families turn the women into slaves, then they expect kids, but it's so competitive and—” You realized you were rambling. “Ah, whatever. Even dating… It's hard enough as it is.”

Jungkook was listening carefully, trying not to give away how interested he was in hearing your thoughts. “Maybe he just found the right person.”

“Yeah, I think he did,” you mused. “Did you?”

“Me? Nah. With what time?” He shook his head with a smile. “I'm taking time off now, but I want to focus on myself and my family for a bit. On my friends, too.”

You stopped your gentle swinging and eyed him. “Doesn't it get lonely?”

“It does,” he admitted, stopping his back and forth to talk while looking directly at you. “I'll tell you a secret: it's like a vice. The highs are amazing, nothing feels close. But the lows are… soul-crushing. The lowest low. The silence and the absence are deadly.”

Your brow furrowed. “But you can connect with your fans all the time.”

He shook his head firmly. “It's not healthy. Life can't be lived through a camera or a screen. Disconnecting is important. I struggled with that in the beginning, but now… I'm living every day doing my best.”

“That's good, I'm happy for you.”

Your tone was soft and your eyes sincere, and his stomach felt fuzzy again. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that break would start or even imply a chance to reconnect with you, but he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Yet as you looked away again, he licked his lip ring absentmindedly as he realized there was still one thing he didn’t know.

“Have you? Found the right person?”

You chortled openly. “Nope! I'm starting to think they don't exist, but it's fine.”

“What?! Why?”

You shrugged, too focused on scrunching up your nose while you thought of a reply to notice how agitated he had become, tapping his foot and nibbling his lip.

“I tried too long and now I think I'm just fatigued.”

His foot stopped as his voice became gentle. “What was the problem?”

“The entitlement, or the need to be controlling, or the ‘man’,” you air quoted. It was as though you had a list on the tip of your tongue. “Dating doesn't mean you can boss me around. Oh and the god-awful sex.”

He didn’t realize the way his eyes widened, but you noticed the silence and looked at him. Your features contorted to hold back laughter, but in a second, you were both laughing quietly.

“What was worse,” you laughed. “Was the men trying to convince me it's good when it's just— ah shit, just— yeah, you get it.”

The way you both laughed and were at ease talking about it made him feel like you were back to the old days when you could talk about anything. When nothing could go wrong, and he could just be himself.

He hummed thoughtfully. “Well, some of it must have been good.”

You sighed. “Sure. It can't all be bad.” You looked up at the night sky. “I guess I just remember the bad now.”

His eyes betrayed him and quickly took you in from head to toe while you weren’t looking. Then, he looked ahead as he tried to sound nonchalant and pretend he wasn’t curious or attracted to you. “I'm sure it will get better.”

You scoffed and glanced at him. “Yeah, sure.”

He could only nibble his lip ring while stifling the promises he would have made in a heartbeat if he didn’t believe that would make you slap him across the face and never speak to him again.

“Can I ask about what you meant earlier?” he asked casually. “You said there were things you wanted us to do together, but you didn’t have the time to talk to me about them.”

You glanced at him as though you could see right through his fake halo. “Stop joking.”

And he was surprised. “I'm not.”

“You're not?”

“No. I have no idea what went through your mind at the time.” 

He was being sincere, yet you still gave him a look and a skeptical huff, and he fiddled with his lip ring.

“But you’re bringing it up right now,” you underlined, eying him so fearlessly his knees were weak. Thankfully, he was sitting.

“I don’t think you meant sex, but—”

“No!! Of course not!” You flustered visibly, blushing and closing your eyes with embarrassment, and he had to bite his lip not to smile widely. “Why would you say that?!”

He shrugged, although by the way you blushed and stirred, he instantly knew the answer. Teasing you was so much more fun than he remembered.

“I guess you have no way of remembering or imagining what a thirteen-year-old girl wonders about,” you acknowledged, then heaved a deep breath. “Well, I thought you were the cutest and coolest boy ever, and that it would have been perfect for our first kiss to be together. It sounds ridiculous now, but yeah.” Your eyes stayed glued to the floor. “Just dating, whatever that meant at the time. Holding hands, kissing, hugging, talking, I don't know.”

He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, yet all he could do was swallow the torrent of heat climbing up his chest. “It doesn't sound ridiculous,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “So that's what you thought at the time…”

“Yeah, it's that phase,” you commented, and for the first time, he wondered if you really felt so casually about seeing him again. “Of entering our teens and becoming adults. For some reason, I was very confident we'd do all those firsts together. Meanwhile, you thought I was a boy.”

“I never thought that!!” he countered instinctively. “I hate that I ever said that. I said whatever came to mind, but I never thought that. Short or long hair, you were always cute and feminine. When I saw that photo of you when you graduated, it hit me hard. How dainty you had become. The same face I’d recognize anywhere, but so much prettier and mature. Seeing you now, it’s one hundred times better. In-person and now as a woman, you're…”

He was finally able to breathe and realize the heat he had swallowed down had just gushed out uncontrollably. 

“Not a boy?”

You had an amused spark in your eyes, and he couldn’t think. “Fuck no.”

You chuckled. “Go figure.”

Finally, he rubbed his face to hide the things that were all too clearly shown there. “I wish it had been different. It's not possible, but I wish I were able to tell you all this at the time.”

“Go back in time and call me through our moms,” you joked, kicking his foot.

“Mom,” he pretended to talk on the phone. “Can you tell Mimi's mom that Mimi looks so pretty now? Someone needs to stay by her side to make sure she's not bothered.”

“Bothered?” you laughed in disbelief, and he smirked.

“Yeah, guys probably won't leave her alone,” he continued, then got up and put his fingers to his ear, pressing a non-existent earpiece. Then, he grabbed your hand and raised his other hand protectively, shielding you from invisible enemies coming from all angles. “No, I need to protect her!” He pretended to struggle, then groaned with his palm to his stomach, raising it while trembling as if it were covered in blood. “No!” He succumbed to his knees while you laughed and shook your head, still holding his hand. “Oh no, they'll kidnap you. Nooo!”

He fell dramatically to the floor, keeping his hand tethered to yours while you laughed quietly. Although his eyes were closed, he gave your hand a slight squeeze to help him up, but you just kept laughing. So instead, he stayed put, listening to you laugh giddily. When he looked up at you from the floor, splayed like a star, he saw you smiling upside down, filling his heart. He couldn’t even describe how complete he felt at that moment.

You stood up from the swing and faced him, raising your free hand to offer help, but he gave you a small shake of his head. Instead, he moved his free arm as though welcoming you to join him. In that split second, he braced for the coldness to return to your features and wash the happiness away. But it didn’t.

You lay down next to him, resting your head on his bicep. He adjusted his arm around you, trying to increase your comfort, only to realize you snuggled up to him seamlessly. You fit in his arms so perfectly that he couldn’t help but embrace you fully.

You hid in his chest, and he let his nose draw closer to the top of your head, letting every little detail relax him. He didn’t remember ever holding you in his arms like this, and he knew he would have never forgotten if he had. To be there with you, alone, breathing you in while your legs tangled with his made him so fuzzy and happy, there was no holding back. There was nothing he wished to keep secret anymore.

“I wish we had our firsts together,” he whispered to the top of your head, and you raised your head to look up at him. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, but you’ll always be that one person.”

His heart felt heavy in his chest as you both observed each other so closely. He knew by the trajectory of your eyes that you were rediscovering his features, from the mole on his nose to the small scar on his cheek. His cheeks warmed under your attentive eyes, even as he tried to take advantage to memorize your face, from the freckles on your nose to your full lips.

But then you looked up at him as his breath caught with the sparkly stars in your eyes.

“Even now?” you whispered, and he had to try hard to remember what you were talking about.

Before he could think, his inked fingers traced your cheek. Your lashes fluttered as you looked at him, with warm cheeks and the sweetest expression that told him everything he needed to know. His eyes fell to your lips.

“Now,” he muttered, leaning in, and your eyelashes fluttered again. “Always… Just right…”

He stopped mumbling in time before his lips pressed to yours, and time stopped. His breath caught as his sole focus became that moment, with you, on the cold rubber mat of the playground, having the only first that mattered.

You took a shaky breath, pressing your palm to his chest as you moved your lips, and he waited. He preferred to follow you, graze and taste your kiss with the same cadence and pressure you used, taking only what you gave him. And it quickly became everything he thought it would be.

Your lips touched tentatively at first, carefully making sure the other wanted this, but quickly things changed. He knew it wasn’t just him free-falling and letting that incoming fever take over because he was following your lead. And you were not shy about following your instincts either.

The first kiss was a touch, the second a delicate brush, the third a firm press, the fourth the first taste, the fifth wet, and finally, it became impossible to count. He was already dizzy with what was happening, but the way you invaded his senses overcame him.  He was eager to drink down every drop of your presence and attention, but he didn’t realize it would come with such force. Your kiss became searing and brazen, unapologetically punishing him for the wait, and his body reacted in a flash.

It took him seconds to ignite for you, burning with a passion that he only ever dreamed possible. And then you pulled away, and everything dawned on him—your kisses weren’t innocent. He wanted you in every way possible, and he’d likely follow you to the end of the world now that he found you again and knew exactly what you tasted like.

But you sat up and faced away from him. “I’m sorry, that was…”

“Don’t say sorry,” he croaked, sitting up behind you. He could tell you were panting; his heart was also racing. “You don’t… You didn’t like it?”

In the silence, he raised his hand to touch you but gave up, fearing invading your space. He thought all he had to do was wait, but in a second, you were getting on your knees to reach your handbag ahead, on the ground, next to the swings.

“Mimi…”

You grabbed your handbag. “Don’t call me that.”

“I’ve always called you that. I gave you that name.”

You froze, still facing away from him. “We’re not kids anymore.”

“No, we’re adults.”

You stayed quiet, but at least you weren’t moving further away. He didn’t even know how he was so calm, but he embraced it.

“So tell me,” he said quietly, hoping you’d turn around to look at him. “Was our kiss just now… weird to you?”

“No.”

His lips curved in the most endearing smile. “That’s a relief.”

You finally faced him. “But we can’t do this.”

Your eyes were big and glazed, and he focused. “Why not?”

“Because… It’s not the same.”

Your voice shook, and he frowned ever so slightly. “The same?”

“It’s not our first…”

“Who cares?!” he blurted out, but he couldn’t help himself. He saw hesitation but also so much more in your eyes that he couldn’t hold back. “Mimi, who cares who our firsts were? Do you care that much about who we’ve kissed before?”

“No!”

“No? You sure?”

“I’m sure!” you confirmed firmly. “It’s not that!”

“Then what is it?”

Your eyes met his, and he saw the moment you realized what you had just said. You admitted — insisted — that the past was not what was bothering you. He could only hope you’d be willing to tell him what the real problem was so he could help you. So he could fix it and never have to let you go.

“I thought—” Your voice wavered, so you whispered, “I thought I was over you.”

He couldn’t help a knowing smile. “Ditto.”

Did you notice you were leaning in again? Did you notice you were looking at him like nothing else existed? Or how you raised a curious yet shy hand to touch him, and he leaned forward, savoring the way you brushed his hair out of his face. When he opened his eyes again, you were much closer, and he had no qualms brushing his hand down your forearm and raising his other hand in an invitation for you to come closer.

Your handbag fell to the ground again as you took his hand, and he pulled you in. The objective was never for you to straddle him, but as soon as you did, his arm wrapped around you possessively. Anyone would have a hard time convincing him to let you go now, not when you were sitting so perfectly on his lap, looking at him like the world was that moment.

“Are we crazy?” you whispered, and his blood ran hot again.

“Maybe.”

His hands held you firmly, almost afraid of losing that moment somehow, yet there was no need to. You pushed forward, crashing your mouth to his, unabashedly picking up where you had left off. He was already not in his right mind, but the moment your tongue pushed through the seam of his lips, he felt his brakes disintegrate. There could be no inhibitions when you were pressing yourself like that to him, breathing heavy, sharing your air, taste, and visceral curiosity. It was too easy to become inebriated, relaxing while burning so intensely, it was hard to explain. It was as though he knew he’d be consumed by the desire, the lust, and the affection in his heart, all with your name so deeply rooted in him, it was more than inked, it was branded. Part of his DNA, his psyche, his soul. And to elevate it all, the way you showed him there was something inside you, too. Something that pushed you to kiss him harder, cup his cheek, and mold your bodies so closely that you ended up pushing him back until he was lying on the ground again.

As you dove into the kiss, the air dissipated from his lungs, and he surrendered completely. Kissing you and absorbing every little detail from the way you breathed or caressed his face was already enough to erase every thought that could try to interrupt that moment. But now, he felt everything. Your weight over him, the warmth, the way your chest expanded against him, letting him catch hints of your form above him. He couldn’t help the hard-on in his pants more than he could help breathing in your perfume between fevered kisses, and it was divine.

He never pushed you or pressed for anything in any way. You'd undoubtedly realize his excitement, but he trusted you not to go further than you were comfortable with. No matter how curious he was to learn and explore every detail about you, he'd gladly kiss you all night long if that was what you wanted.

But he wouldn’t push you away if you wanted more. He sighed when your hands felt the expanse of his shoulders and chest, feeling every inch of his body tingle and react under your touch. His fingers twitched on your waist, eager to feel more, but he reeled it in. One deep breath while your tongue licked against his could have easily flipped his mindset, but he was disciplined enough to stay put.

Until your fingers explored down at his sides, framing his waist until they reached your legs. Realizing your knees were pressing into his sides, you opened your legs further, and his brain turned to goo. Your weight shifted enough for you to sit straight on his hard-on while your fingers eagerly pulled his sweater so you could touch him, and he groaned into your kiss.

It was a visceral, unadulterated sound dripping with desire, and you paused. You pulled away to eye him, looking like sin incarnate with your swollen lips and blown pupils, and he licked his lips.

“Keep going,” he rasped, looking at you hungrily. “Whatever you want.”

You looked down at the hem of his sweater, crumpled in your hands, as he pulled on the fabric to reveal his lower abdomen. Dragging your hands along wasn't enough for you to break away from your hesitation, so he took them. Your eyes were locked with his as your fingers interlaced, making his heart flutter. You dropped your mouth back to his, pressing a chaste kiss, and he closed his eyes. Yes, his heart was singing, but he wanted you to keep going.

So he placed your hands on his lower stomach, instantly shuddering, and not from the night's October cold. Your fingers untangled from his, touching and feeling his warm skin, and he groaned again. This time, he didn't hold back from opening his mouth and searching to deepen your kiss, and his hands returned to your waist, squeezing it firmly.

You took everything he offered, no longer surprised when he groaned as you pressed and scratched lightly over his abs and sides. You reached his chest once, and his breath caught. He couldn’t control his reaction; his dick throbbed under you and he nibbled your lip, so eager to eat you whole he didn't even know how he was holding back. But he knew then you had to know it. You had to feel how hard he was underneath you, and yet you didn't move to the side or pull away. As if you wanted to feel his excitement pressed to you, and it was maddening.

He felt his sanity pushed further when you grabbed his hands and guided him. He held his breath as you dragged his hands to your hips before making way underneath your sweater until you placed them back on your waist, directly on your soft skin.

He could barely breathe, and you knew it. You ghosted his lips the whole time as your eyes stayed locked with his, observing his reaction. He couldn’t think, suddenly absolutely stiff and tense. If he moved and touched you, it would be like jumping off a cliff — wishing the untamed ocean would catch him while he would be completely at a loss.

“Touch me,” you whispered against his lips, and he heard it as both a command and a wish, so he did.

Your skin was so soft and warm, he wondered how it could be so perfect. Your curves instantly turned his legs to goo underneath you, so maddening they were, but something else almost made him choke.

Several times, he palmed your sides from your armpits to the hem of your sweatpants, and there was nothing but soft skin. No elastic, no other fabric, nothing but supple skin.

His eyes met yours again as you kept brushing his lips and skin without properly kissing him, as though you were waiting for something.

“Don't stop,” you whispered, nuzzling him, and he leaped.

His palms moved in, thumbs brushing the side of your chest, and your breath shook. He caressed the sensitive skin, feeling how warm and inviting it was, and as he did, you melted over him. You kissed him, then turned to the side to breathe, then pressed his lips again, then had to part them to moan softly, and by the time he realized what was happening, you were both too far gone.

You were moving over him at the cadence of his hands, and it felt too good for both of you. You rocked your hips as slowly as his hands, savoring every millimeter his fingers explored of your breasts little by little while you pressed your core to his hard cock. It was incredibly worth it to do it slowly and feel you falling apart over him, cracking his control as yours dissipated as well. The tension was so sweet and sublime, he let it develop to the last second. Brushing his fingers ever so slightly over your breasts without ever forming a hold. At least until you whimpered. 

Then, he cupped your breasts in his hands and squeezed, and you moaned, grinding on his erection so perfectly, he throbbed. He did it again and again, reveling in the way you reacted and gave back to him. Until you hid in his neck to moan your pleasure, and he bit down on your exposed neck, rutting into you unapologetically.

You were just perfect. The sounds you breathed drove his sanity away, but the way you felt over him made him want to get lost in you. He was crazy, both about feeling you and driving you just as crazy, and for a moment, he thought it would work. He was teasing your nipples while groping your tits harshly, arriving at that point by the way you moaned and humped him harder with every touch in the right direction. He was listening to you attentively, so turned on by your excitement, he wondered if he could cum like this if you did.

But then you relented, stopping your hips despite the way you were moaning and breathing into his ear, messing him up. 

His instincts roared, and he rolled over you, letting you stay hidden in his neck. Then he humped sharply into you to elicit that strong reaction out of you again and there it was, that sweet breathless moan in his ear. Your hands found their way to his lower back under his sweater, and the slightest push was enough to unleash him. He hid in your neck to suckle your skin while humping your core and squeezing your tits in his hands. Everything heated him unbearably, melting away any thoughts before they could form. Yet as you moaned into his ear and sank your nails into his lower back, moving with him, he pulled away to look at you. He was suddenly overwhelmed by curiosity — what did you look like at his exact moment?

His cock throbbed so painfully he had to slow down, making you whimper and open your eyes. It made it even worse, and he bit his lip to simmer down. Just seconds before, you were breathing heavily with your lips parted, shuddering underneath him. He could still feel your heart racing under his hands as your tongue peeked out to lick your lips, and he dove in.

He was fully inebriated, wholly converted, and ready to learn everything about you from A to Z. What he had learned so far was not enough; he couldn't stop now.

You tapped his back, and he let you breathe, pecking your cheek instead.

You rasped, “Everyone can see us.”

He raised his head to look at you, his heart pumping loudly. You didn't say stop, no, or that you should end it there. Your eyes showed as much desire as he felt drumming in his veins, and he kissed you hard. You wanted to be with him, and if he had somewhere to take you, he wouldn't have hesitated for a second.

He couldn’t take you to his parents' place as it stood. So he guided your legs to lock behind him. “Hang on.”

Once he was sure you could hold, he rose to his knees and crawled into the tunnel you had been hiding in earlier. When he laid you down gently, you giggled and instantly covered your mouth. He had to chuckle at the way you blushed, surprised by the echo.

“Don't you remember when we'd shout from one end to the other, pretending to be pirates and thieves?”

Your eyes crinkled. “It's a miracle we were never caught and grounded.”

He let his body fall to yours gently. “It's because there's nobody around at this hour.”

He pecked the tip of your nose, and you smiled, happily still holding onto him. It made him pause. He just looked at you, relishing that closeness and singular moment with none other than you. He couldn't see you as well, now hidden from the streetlights, but he could still distinguish the lines of your smile. You looked happy. He had to wonder if it was all a dream.

Your legs stayed laced around him, and as he felt the outlines of your body underneath him, he was reminded of just how turned on he was. His cock was so hard and swollen, and after humping you so crazily, his clothes were pressing on it uncomfortably.

He supported himself on one hand, feeling the tight tunnel frame his shoulders as he used his free hand to adjust his dick. His head was completely elsewhere, locked on how he’d touch you again under your sweater as soon as humanly possible, when he felt your hand over his.

His thoughts collapsed in on themselves as you looked up at him and followed his hand to his hard-on. His breath caught when you didn’t just feel around, but purposefully found his length.

“May I?”

His brain had to do backflips to articulate a simple, Yeah.

Worse than feeling like he was drooling all over you and unable to attach two words together was the way you looked at him. The more his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the more he saw the look on your face — of someone who knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid to get it. It made him weak in the knees before your hand had the chance to grab his hard length.

You squeezed him over his sweatpants, learning the outline of his dick before moving beyond his hand and burrowing inside. He had no time to process, only to catch himself before he collapsed on top of you. He couldn’t stop a deep groan, nor the precum from spilling over your hand, but there was no hiding it, not at this stage. Not when your fingers wrapped around him and felt him from base to tip, and not just once or twice.

He opened his eyes to look at you, and you almost blew him away. You weren’t just sure you wanted to touch him; you had the most confident and sexy look on your face. Like you knew what you were doing to him and wanted exactly that to happen. Like you intended for his toes to curl as he stopped himself from rutting into your hand and kissing you desperately as he spilled all over you.

He had given up on stifling his groans or heavy breathing; the way you seemed to delightedly observe every reaction only made him more beside himself. He wanted you to look at him and want him as crazily as he wanted you, but he also didn’t want to cum in two minutes.

His eyes flickered down to your stomach, and you whispered, “You can pull it up.”

He met your eyes and supported himself on both his hands, pressing his thumbs to distract himself from your hand jerking him off steadily and perfectly. “No,” he muttered, then tried again. “I don’t want you to be cold.”

You definitely knew what you were doing when you used your free hand to pull your sweater so far up on one side that your breast showed. It was enough for him to groan and almost try to escape your hand, because it was too good. You felt too good and looked too perfect, and his instinct won again. In a split second, he wasn’t just looking at the outline of your chest, trying to learn all the details in the dark, but diving in with his mouth latching onto a nipple he had teased relentlessly before.

You threw your head back and moaned, and his hand darted to stop yours. You couldn’t have known how close he was to blowing, especially as he didn’t relent from licking and nibbling on your perked nipple. He couldn’t help himself, especially when you grabbed his hair and moaned softly like that.

The moment you moaned his name, his eyes closed as he felt it in his entire body. He’d never forget that sound.

“Can you multitask?”

He opened his eyes, so utterly dazed he couldn’t have heard you. “What?”

“Can you touch me, too?” you asked, batting your eyelashes at him, and he realized what you meant.

Your legs had loosened their hold around him, but were still open under him, molding to him in the perfect position for him to sink deeply into you.

He shook those thoughts away. “If you let me, I’d love to.”

You were quick to make space for him beside you while he tried to wrap his head around what was happening. He used to think it was unlikely that he’d ever meet you again. But now, not only were you kissing, but you were touching each other in ways that crossed lines like they were meant to be erased. Asserting what he instinctively knew but was never able to act upon.

He lay next to you, noticing how you adjusted to still be comfortable while you held onto his dick. Not that you had let it go, but at least you seemed okay with waiting for him to be comfortable before you restarted your strokes.

But first, he needed to touch you and brace himself for it. This was such an important moment that his heart started racing inside his chest. Not just because you were letting him touch you, but because of everything it meant. You trusted him, you wanted him, you had expectations that he could make you feel good, and suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to do exactly that while stressing like hell that he’d do everything wrong.

His hand moved in the dark, trembling, to find you, and it did. Your legs opened further as his palm settled on your inner thigh, firm and warm, and he opened his eyes. Instantly, he knew he was fucked and blessed. The streetlights somehow managed to shine on you, giving him a view he had only ever dared to dream of — you, lying next to him, with your sweater raised, exposing one side of you, stomach to breast, while one of your legs was open with his inked hand resting on it.

He was probably drooling, and once his eyes met yours, he guessed you knew.

“Please,” you breathed, and the back of his neck burned. Your eyes were hungry as you moved your hips ever so slightly, and he didn’t want to keep you waiting.

Still, his hand darted to your nipple first, pinching it softly. His dick throbbed in your hand as you moaned, and one glance was enough to know his next step. He brushed his fingers gently down your chest to your stomach on a sure path to where you wanted him, and in a second, his hand slipped inside your pants.

His eyes focused on you as your wetness guided him, and although he tried not to be rough, his fingers slipped. You instantly gasped and let your head fall back, and his curiosity became untamable. His fingers brushed up and down along your folds, a feather touch opposed to the first contact with your sensitive clit, but you enjoyed it. You squirmed ever so slightly, giving him even more space to touch you however he pleased, and he did.

He took in the way his hand disappeared inside your pants in the same way yours disappeared inside his, both stroking at a slow, exploratory rhythm. While you kept a firm, steady hand from head to base, almost as if not to distract him, he kept focused on your little eyelash flutters and gasps as he discovered every inch of you.

Despite your quiet whimpers, he retreated to your thighs, determined not to leave a single stone unturned. Only when your hand around his dick became impatient did he move back up and touched your slit again, having to close his eyes with how much wetter you were, if that was even possible. 

Your whimpering moans caught him by surprise, and as you breathed heavily, he focused. You weren’t a dream or a fantasy; you were so very real, and he wanted you to enjoy every second with him.

“Tell me how,” he asked gently, grazing over your clit without staying there.

“You don’t know?” You were breathlessly surprised, and he chuckled.

“I don't know how you like it.”

You matched his smile as your hand slowed down around his length. He took that as a positive reaction — you wanted this to last, and so did he.

You bit your lip and turned your face closer to his, whispering, “Can you do it slowly in big circles?”

He instantly changed his touch to match your request, and your reaction was almost instantaneous. Your hips moved against his fingers, and in seconds, you were biting your lip, stifling your moans. He found it curious that you reacted so strongly to such a simple touch, but he knew it was more than that. Your hips were adding to the feeling, not to mention you had to be turned on by his hard dick in your hand. Being half-naked in a public playground might have also contributed, though he wasn’t thinking about any of those details right now. For him, what mattered was how much wetter you were, trying not to squirm under his touch.

“A bit harder,” you breathed, looking at him, and he nibbled his lip ring.

He did as you asked, pressing more firmly, noticing how he wouldn’t touch your clit directly unless when you wanted him to, and you controlled this by moving your hips. He was getting you off under your rules and by the way you were breathing and pumping his cock, he knew you were almost there. He himself would have been cumming soon if not for the fact that he wanted to learn every single detail about you while you felt like this.

Your chest heaved harder as your hand slid alongside his length perfectly, yet your eyes closed as you tried to hide. You turned your face down, bringing it closer to him. He pecked your forehead as you squirmed under his hand, stifling your moans, until you seemed to change your mind. You pressed your lips feverishly to his and he had to redouble his effort to not change the rhythm for you, sliding perfectly around your wet entrance and brushing your clit just like you liked it, again and again, until you gasped.

Your back arched violently, breaking apart your kiss, and letting him see everything as you climaxed. How you moaned softly, letting it echo around you two, as you trembled. Your hips slowed down, and so did his fingers, able to feel your clenching hole enticing the hard dick still in your hand that you were squeezing hard. Fortunately, not hard enough to hurt, but surely enough for you to know how ready he was to feel you closely. Not that he would, but not that he could help thinking about it now that he could imagine how you’d feel cumming around him.

Your whole body relaxed next to him as your hand lost its strength, and he understood. All the sexual tension was gone for you. He brought his lips to your forehead, pecking you as his hand slipped from your pants, hoping you wouldn’t feel pressured to continue. Because if it were up to him, he’d be begging for more, but he hoped you were comfortable enough to do as you pleased. 

You raised your head to meet his lips in a languid kiss, and that intimacy swayed him. He was ready to kiss you until the sun dawned, but you were quick to wrap your fingers firmly around him again, and with a renewed intent this time.

He opened his eyes, meaning to pull away and ask you if you really wanted to continue, but your gaze made his breath catch. You didn’t want to just get him off; you were in charge of the way his pleasure developed, and it brought him straight back to the thick of it.

You were very close to each other, but no longer kissing, so he did something out of instinct — he brought his fingers, still covered in your slick, to his mouth. A small part of him feared he’d weird you out, but somehow he knew you were on the same wavelength.

He groaned with your taste, throbbing in your hand, turned on beyond belief, and your reaction was to pull his hand away and dive in tongue first into his mouth. You both moaned into the kiss, and Jungkook was so beside himself, he didn’t last a minute with you assaulting his mouth like that. It was too much on top of your hand squeezing around the tip of his cock, edging him for all the precum he possibly he had. 

He had to break your kiss apart. You were perfect for him, but— “I’ll cum.”

You smirked. “I hope so, I want to taste you, too.”

Every word sparked him, and looking into your eyes, he was certain you had thought of him before. At least once. In all those years, you had thought of doing this with him before, and it was the straw that broke the camel's back. He wrapped his hand around yours, squeezing your fingers into a fist, and spilled.

Instantly, warm spurts of cum had nowhere to go but to drip in between your fingers, but you didn’t shy away. You pumped him for all he was worth, making him groan and squirm as he held you while you emptied him.

As soon as he was spent, his first instinct was to search for your kiss. Not consuming, not searing, just calming and soothing like the sigh that escaped his lips. Then, he let go of your hand and fell back, ready to bask in that peace when he noticed out the corner of his eye that you took your hand still dripping with his cum to your mouth and licked it.

You closed your eyes, savoring it, and he groaned, so euphoric at that moment, he couldn’t describe it. He rose from the ground to kiss you again, temporarily overriding that newfound peace with his inextinguishable desire for you, until you squirmed and chuckled.

His cum was dripping down your wrist into your sweater and you quickly pulled on your sleeve. “Wait.”

You crawled back out of the tunnel to reach your handbag, and he lay back, relaxedly, letting what just happened wash over him. You two together felt amazing, and it was no longer a fantasy or a dream of his teenage years. He didn’t have to imagine that the two of you would work out together; you just did. 

You sat down at the entrance of the tunnel next to his knees and passed him a tissue so he could clean his hand, which he did absentmindedly as he waited for you to join him again. He didn’t know what the future held, but he’d start by holding you and go from there.

Except you weren’t back yet, so he looked at his feet again. He could see your calves, immediately noticing that you were standing at the tunnel entrance with your handbag nowhere in sight.

“Mimi?”

“I need to go.”

You instantly rushed away out of sight, and he sat up instinctively, hitting his head so hard that the whole plastic tunnel resonated. He rubbed his head as he tried to crawl outside, and when he finally managed to stand up, you were nowhere in sight. 

He quickly shook off the dizziness and ran back to where both your parents lived. He didn’t understand why you would just leave like that, but above all things, he didn’t want any misunderstandings.

When he got on the right street, he ran through your mother’s garden all the way to the front door and raised his hand, but stopped before he knocked. If he did, he’d wake up your parents, and that would create more problems. 

So he nibbled on his lip ring and walked away, throwing your parents’ place a couple of glances before making his way to his parents’. You were safe there, and he knew just where to find you in the morning.

Next Part >

[roosterforme]

Stateside | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley made a mistake last summer when he left for his deployment without ever asking you out, and then he thought about you a lot when he was gone. He was stateside again for less than a day when the other guys coerced him to help with a fundraiser at the Hard Deck. A friendly wager with the squad might not be the only thing he wins by the end of the night.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, drinking, swears

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger Written for Pick Your Poison

Bradley had barely been stateside for twenty four hours when he woke up in his bed at noon to an array of texts arriving all at once. Five months on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with nothing much going for him left him surprisingly exhausted. It wasn't that he didn't want to see his friends, he just needed a full day to himself to readjust. 

He groaned and rolled over after glancing at his phone and seeing the words Hard Deck in a message from Jake. He closed his eyes again after tossing his phone aside, but about ten seconds later, he cracked them open again. If there was one thing he had consistently thought about over the course of those five months, it was you. Your bright smile, your perfect laugh, your navy blue tee shirts that said The Hard Deck across the front.

When he reached for his phone and checked the message from Jake, he sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Maybe this could be an excuse to see you again sooner rather than later.

Hangman: Hey, we need you to come to the Hard Deck tonight. It's the annual charity event, and Bob can't make it. We're short a bartender. And don't try to bitch out of this, Phoenix told me you're home.

Bradley covered his face with his hand and thought long and hard about this. The real bartenders would be there to help which meant there was a chance you'd be one of them. If he volunteered for this, then maybe he'd find himself in close quarters with you for a few hours instead of the other Naval officers he'd been stuck with for months on end. Just the idea of accidentally bumping into you while pouring a beer had him texting Jake back.

Yeah, I'll be there.

Even though he was still pretty tired later in the afternoon, Bradley took a shower and then spent some extra time on his hair before dressing in his lucky shirt. That five month deployment was the reason he didn't ask you out during the summer, and now he was nervous to see you again. He had good intel from Penny that you'd been single the last time he saw you in August, but what if you had a boyfriend now? Or worse, what if you didn't even acknowledge him when you saw him?

He groaned as he looked in the bathroom mirror. Hours, possibly even days... that's how much time he'd had you on his mind while he was away. And for what? A crush on a girl who was probably too young for him? A cute bartender at the Navy hangout who definitely got asked out nightly? Shit. He was a lost cause. 

And now he was going to be late if he didn't leave right away. He grabbed his keys, and headed out to his Bronco which he had missed dearly. So if nothing else, he'd get to cruise around later after the event. But on the ride to the bar, all he could imagine was how you'd look in the passenger seat, smiling at him at every stoplight and singing along to the radio. 

"Fuck," he grunted as he parked next to Jake's truck before heading inside. He let his heart fill with hope as he strolled in to find Penny, Jake, Javy and Reuben behind the bar with two bartenders. But neither of them were you.

"Rooster!" Reuben cheered, and soon he was being clapped on the back and high fived by the guys he hadn't seen in months. It was nice, but he couldn't help but think that his smile would have been more genuine if you were here.

Jake smirked. "So glad you left your perch and joined us."

Bradley laughed as he gave Penny a hug. "Come on, man, I literally just got home."

Penny smiled up at him. "Thanks for filling in. It'll be great." Bradley really wanted to ask her about you, but then Penny patted him on the cheek before turning to reach under the bar top. "This will be a breeze for you guys," she said, handing matching shirts to the four of them. "Just a basic bar menu tonight. No super fancy cocktails. Just beer, wine, some pre-made sangria, and a few different kinds of shots."

Bradley started to unbutton his lucky shirt before pulling the new one on in its place. He smoothed his hand along the front of the blue shirt that said THE HARD DECK FIGHTS CANCER, and he noticed the two bartenders glancing at him. They were both cute but decidedly not what he had been hoping for tonight. 

"Hey," he asked them with a nod. They smiled in response, so he decided to just go ahead and ask them about you.

"She quit a few weeks ago," the first one told him. "After she graduated from law school."

"She moved, too," said the second one. "Left San Diego."

Shit. He was too late after all, nodding in response to them as he pressed his lips together in a firm line. He'd never been any good at this kind of thing, which was why he always fell into casual relationships. What should he have done? Asked you out, gone on a handful of dates and then tried to persuade you to wait five months for him? Just for him to get deployed over and over again? That wouldn't have been fair to you.

But he didn't feel like it was fair to him either, because right now he was having a hard time even remembering exactly how pretty you were and the precise tone of your laughter. Probably for the best. At least he only needed to do this event for a few hours before he could leave and go for a long drive. He swallowed down his disappointment and turned toward the guys who were in the middle of conversation. 

"How about a side wager?" Javy asked, tossing a bottle of vodka up into the air and catching it over and over again. "You know, for the charity?"

"What did you have in mind?" Bradley asked as Penny went to peek outside. "Because I doubt Penny will let us strip for charity again after last year. The two of you scuffed up the bar top," Bradley added, gesturing at Jake as well.

They both started laughing like idiots before Jake said, "Nah, let's give Penny a break this year and just tally up our tips at the end of the night. Whoever donates the least amount of tip money to the charity is the loser."

"Oh, that's a great idea," Javy said as he ate the orange slices and cherries that were meant to garnish the drinks. "What's the punishment for losing?"

Reuben smirked and said, "Loser has to report to the tarmac on Monday in his underwear. Instant push ups from Mav."

"Deal," Jake said.

"Absolutely," Javy agreed.

Three pairs of eyes settled on Bradley, and he slowly said, "Okay." If he strolled out of the locker room in just his underwear and boots on his first day back from a long deployment when he was supposed to sit down with the admirals and Maverick and have a debrief, he'd probably earn a greater punishment than just a few push ups. But it was for the charity, so he'd do it.

But he soon learned he'd made a mistake after Penny called out, "Let's get started," and propped the doors open. The first person through the door was Reuben's wife, followed by Javy's fiancee and Jake's girlfriend. And all of her sorority sisters. 

"Shit," Bradley grunted. "Did you make me come here just so I would lose?"

Javy was handing out pint glasses that they could use as tip cups as he smirked, and Bradley was wondering if there was any way he could actually stuff his discreetly with cash from his own wallet.

"You'll be just fine," Jake drawled as the jukebox came blaring to life. But even the music was mocking him as Slow Ride started to play, and Bradley had people in front of him expecting him to make them drinks. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jake's girlfriend open her purse and start stuffing Jake's tip cup full. "I feel like that's considered cheating," Bradley told her, and she rolled her eyes and smirked before tucking five dollars into his cup as well.

"Don't tip Bradshaw, Sweets," Jake complained. "We made him come here as a buffer!"

"I knew it was a setup!" Bradley groaned as he listened to someone ask him for some wine and some beer. That was easy enough. He knew how to do that. Or at least he thought he did, but then one of the bartenders who had volunteered for the night told him he poured too much wine into the glass.

Then a woman asked him for a green tea shot, and he stared at her blankly. He leaned closer to Javy and asked, "What the hell is in a green tea shot?" 

"I don't know," he replied as he poured two pints at the same time. "But you better figure it out, because your tip cup is still practically empty."

"Shit." He was scrambling to flag down the young bartenders again when he froze. He only caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye, but he knew it was you simply by the way you moved and the color of your hair. And then you sat down in the only empty stool left at the bar and smiled at him, your voice drawing his eyes up to your perfect face. 

"Rooster. You're back."

The little thoughts and fantasies he'd indulged in while deployed had nothing on the real thing, and he knew he was blushing as you smiled and waited for him to respond. But it had been months since he'd been this close to you, and now he was really beating himself up for not trying to make you his sooner. Because if you were his, he could do all the things he wanted to do right now. Like kiss you.

"Rooster," you repeated with hesitation in your eyes, your voice softer, nearly drowned out by the jukebox. 

"They said you quit," he blurted out as he leaned on the bartop, curious as to why you were here tonight. "And that you moved."

Your eyes went a little wider as you nodded, your smile still soft. "I did. You asked about me?"

"Can you make me a green tea shot or not?"

Bradley begrudgingly switched his focus to the woman next to you and sighed. He was about to tell her he didn't even know what that was, or that maybe she should fuck off so he could talk to you, but then you reached out and ran your fingers along the back of his hand. 

Your touch was brief but intentional, and all of the irritation seemed to ease out of his body as his gaze snapped back to yours. "Yeah," you told the other woman as your finger grazed his knuckle one more time. "He can make you a green tea shot."

"I don't even know what's in it," he told you, with a helpless smile, trying to fight the urge to reach for your hand. 

You kind of shrugged as you said, "I do. I'll talk you through it."

Bradley's smile grew which left you giggling as he said, "I'm kind of helpless back here. Nothing like you."

"Well, you can learn from the best," you told him, reaching out to squeeze his wrist before pointing to the many liquor bottles behind him. "Irish whiskey and peach schnapps," you told him, leaning on the bar now, so close that he just couldn't bring himself to turn away from you. 

"Okay," he said, memorizing the exact color of your eyes. "Thanks for doing this."

You bit your lip and smiled up at him, and when Bradley moved just slightly closer, he thought he heard you whimper. Your eyes were full of emotion that reflected his own as you said, "Focus, Rooster. Irish whiskey and peach schnapps."

He nodded once and then finally moved away from you as he scanned the bottles and grabbed the two you told him. "Good," you said, pointing to the mini fridge and saying, "now get the sweet and sour mix. It's in a pink jug. Yeah, you got it. Now you need a half ounce of each."

Bradley listened to you explain how to use the shaker while he gave you another helpless look. "I'm just a simple beer or bourbon drinker," he said as he strained the drink that his customer had been waiting several minutes for into a shot glass.

You laughed and said, "I know you are, and it's kind of endearing that you don't know what you're doing. Now top it off with a splash of Sprite." 

Bradley grabbed the soda gun, pressed the little green button and then looked up at you again. "This is endearing?" he asked, finally sliding the shot to the annoyed woman who unenthusiastically put a dollar in his tip cup and turned away.

"Very," you promised him. "And now I want you to make me a kamikaze shot."

He gave you a bland look, but his heart was pounding. "Are you joking right now?"

Bradley was hyper focused on your lips as you said, "Not at all. You can handle it. It's vodka, triple sec and lime juice. I prefer Finlandia. Impress me, and I'll leave you a nice big tip for the charity."

Then he groaned. He had forgotten about the wager and the other patrons looking for drinks and just all of it. He raked his fingers through his hair. "Thanks, but I'll probably still end up in my underwear at work on Monday morning." 

When he pushed away from the bar again, your eyes dipped down to his jeans before snapping back up. "Underwear?"

"Yeah," he grunted as he reached for the type of vodka you liked best. You told him how much to use, and he dumped it in a shaker. "The guys coerced me into volunteering tonight. I literally just got home from deployment, but here I am... their scapegoat," he said, arms held out at his sides. "They threw out a side bet based on tip money, and next thing I know, all of their wives and girlfriends show up with a bunch of cash."

While he shook your kamikaze shot, he watched you turn first to your right and then to your left, eyeing up the overflowing tip cups in front of Reuben, Javy and Jake. Your lips parted, and you gaped at Bradley, but your eyes looked a little devious now. "You know, all of this makes a lot of sense since the guys made me come tonight."

Bradley carefully poured out your shot and asked, "What do you mean they made you come?" He realized his voice sounded annoyed, but how did they all have your phone number anyway? He'd been standing here thinking about asking you for it, but they were apparently already texting you. 

You accepted the shot and took a small sip to taste it. "They kept messaging me earlier today, saying I absolutely needed to be here tonight. They said it was important I made it to the charity event." Then you tipped your head back, and Bradley was treated to the soft looking expanse of your neck as you swallowed down the rest of the shot he made. When you were done, you set the glass down and licked your lips as you dug some money out of your pocket. "That was delicious."

While you loaded his cup with all the cash in your pocket, Bradley tried to ask you where you lived now. If the guys were bugging you earlier today, you couldn't be that far. But before he could get a word out, you pushed yourself up so you were kneeling on the bar right in front of him, and he looked up at you as you grinned down at him. 

"Don't worry, Rooster," you said as you ran your fingers through his hair. "I got you." Then Bradley was reaching for your hips. He didn't fucking care if the place was packed, he was ready to haul you off to the back hallway and ask you if he could kiss your pretty lips. You beamed at him as his hands met your body, but you just cupped your fingers around your mouth and shouted over the music, "Come get your drinks from Rooster! He knows how to make everything! But kamikazes are his specialty! And he's hot!"

His eyes went wide as you slipped out of his grasp and back onto your stool while an influx of mostly women queued up in front of him. "What did you do?" he asked, trying to mentally process an order for a cosmopolitan while stumbling over you calling him hot.

"I'm helping you not embarrass yourself at work. Keep the vodka out. Grab the Cointreau and a martini glass. We're about to show the guys what's up."

Bradley struggled through drink after drink as quickly as he could, but you never gave up on him. Occasionally you'd slide things out of his way or point out where he could find something he needed, and at some point you grabbed a second pint glass for his overflowing tip money. And all the while, he stole as many glances at you as he could while he worked. 

When Penny eventually walked behind him, patted him on the shoulder and said there was less than an hour left of the event, she also shared a smile with you. But there was no hope. The other guys were already working on their third tip cups each. "I don't think I can make up the deficit," he groaned, pulling up the hem of his shirt and wiping his brow with it. 

"Oh, that's a great idea," you mused, leaning across the bar and pulling his shirt up higher. "Take it off."

He stared at you as you tugged on the fabric. "Take it off?"

You nodded, the moevent exaggerated as you said, "Absolutely. Take your shirt off." As he looked around awkwardly before pulling his shirt over his head, you cupped your hands around your mouth once again and said, "He has six pack abs!"

Now the guys were glaring at him. "So do I!" Reuben complained.

"Don't you dare take your shirt off!" his wife told him, pointing at him in warning. 

Bradley knew his cheeks were flushed, and all he really wanted to do was talk to you and hopefully kiss you. And he really wanted to do all of that with his shirt on, because he felt a bit like a stripper now as you reached for a third tip cup. The cash was filling it up quickly, and he smirked as he thought about Reuben, Jake or Javy in their underwear instead of him. And it was all for a charity after all. 

"Make him use the shaker!" you urged a woman who looked like she was in her seventies and holding a crisp fifty dollar bill. "Make him flex."

Bradley groaned your name which sent you into a fit of laughter, your second empty shot glass still in front of you. "This isn't right," he complained half heartedly as he shook the older woman's Mai Tai with flexed abs and biceps. 

"It is so right," you told him, and he appreciated that you were scoping out the other guys' tip cups instead of looking at him right now. "Keep going. It's going to be so close." And then that fifty ended up in Bradley's cup when he handed over the cocktail, and you said, "Or maybe not!"

"Last call for the fundraiser!" Penny shouted over the crowd, and Bradley almost sighed in relief when the last few people ordered beers and a glass of wine. And then it was all over, and he had a huge amount of cash in front of him along with you. But he didn't care about the tips as much as he did getting to finally talk to you. The fundraiser was technically over, and you were looking at him the same way he was looking at you.

When he took a breath to suggest you and he go for a walk, he felt a hand on his bare back. It was one of the young bartenders who was helping out, and she said, "I can count up your tips for you," with a smile.

"Nope," you said, reaching for his cups yourself and shooting her a glare. "I'll do his. You go help Coyote." You didn't move again until her hand slipped off of his back and she walked away, and then you looked at Bradley and asked, "What are you going to do for me if you win?"

He watched as you quickly sorted the bills into efficient piles as he pulled his shirt back on and leaned against the bar. It had quieted down significantly, and now Penny was taking a few drink orders while everyone else seemed to move to the tables. He felt like he had a moment of privacy with you as he said, "I guess that depends. Apparently you moved away, Sweetheart."

"I did," you confirmed with a smirk as you counted up his twenties. 

"But you came back tonight."

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you moved to the pile of tens. "I'm not too far away. I took a full time job and moved to Del Mar. The guys told me I needed to be here tonight for a special surprise. They said something I had been missing was returning. So I came down."

Bradley's fingers flexed on the edge of the bartop. "They did?"

You looked a little vulnerable as you stacked the bills in one pile and said, "Eight hundred and seventy one dollars." 

He nodded once and pushed the money aside without really looking at it. "You'd been missing something, Sweetheart?" he pressed gently, heart pounding in his chest. 

You bit your lip as your eyes drifted closed when he rubbed his thumb across your cheek. "I guess I must have asked the guys one time too many if they knew when you'd be back from your deployment."

"Oh," he rasped as you looked at him again. "You missed me?"

"Yes," you whispered. "I was going to ask you out, but then you were just gone. And they told me you were deployed, and I thought I really missed my chance. And I didn't even know if you were single or not, so I-"

Bradley had heard enough, so he kissed you. Just a soft press of his lips to yours, but you practically crawled onto the bar to get closer to him. And it was better than he spent the last five months imagining it might be. He could taste the vodka and lime on your tongue as it met his. Your fingers gently combed through his hair again, and he moaned, "I missed you too, Sweetheart."

Your laughter was soft and sweet as your nose brushed against his, and then he jerked back a few inches as Reuben shouted. "Yo, Rooster! There's time for that later, man! How much tip money did you make?"

"Eight hundred and seventy one," you replied as your fingers trailed down his scarred cheek to rub his mustache before you pecked him on the lips. The three guys groaned in unison, and Bradley watched your face light up in a beautiful smile. 

"This is not why we told you that you had to come tonight!" Jake whined, pointing at you and pouting. "You were supposed to distract him, not help him win! He was just supposed to turn into a bumbling mess and admit he has feelings for you!"

You turned away from Jake, and you asked Bradley, "So, do you have feelings for me?"

He huffed out a laugh before he hopped up to sit on the bar, swung his long legs over to the other side and hopped down again. You jumped from your stool and into his arms when he said, "I thought about you the whole time I was away, Sweetheart. I wanted to ask you out in the summer, but I didn't think it was right to hope you'd wait almost half a year for me to be stateside. For us to be together again."

"Bradley," you moaned. His hands found your hips just like earlier, and this time he pulled you snug against him while your fingers teased through his hair. "If a guy is worth waiting for, then I'd wait forever."

He kissed you again, tasting and nipping the lips that he'd dreamed about. Inhaling all of your sweetness that his mind didn't do justice to when he'd been away. Feeling your smile against his lips for the first time.

"Let me ask you again," you said, pausing between kisses. "Since I clearly helped you win the bet, what are you going to do for me?"

"Anything you want," he said immediately as you started to push him toward the door with a grin. 

"How about we go for a long drive? And we can talk about how the next time you're deployed, your girlfriend will be waiting patiently for you to return?"

Bradley scooped you up, sending you into a fit of laughter as he carried you directly to his Bronco.

------------------------

Bradley was exhausted on Monday to the point where the travel mug of coffee you sent him with did nothing to keep him from yawning out on the tarmac at 8:00. But every yawn ended with him smiling as he thought about how perfect the weekend had been. In the very early hours of Sunday morning, you'd agreed to be his girlfriend. And now he was waiting for the cherry on top of it all.

He didn't have to wait long as he stood between Reuben and Javy, the three of them looking nearly identical in their matching flight suits and boots, standing at attention in front of Maverick. Then Jake came strolling out, and Bradley instantly started laughing. 

Maverick turned, took one look at Hangman in his boxer shorts and combat boots and said, "I don't even want to know what's going on here, I just want five hundred push ups."

Jake's eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his face as everyone else tried their best to hold in their laughter. Bradley took his phone out as discreetly as he could and snapped a picture of Jake panicking on the tarmac before he dropped down onto the ground and started on his punishment. 

"Everyone else to your jets," Mav barked, and Bradley didn't stick around to hear him say it again. Instead he texted you the photo of Jake along with a short message.

Couldn't have pulled it off without your help, Sweetheart.

------------------------

The way I would die of this man just casually started calling me his Sweetheart. I love that he swept the guys to win the bet! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[basset-babe]

five times: the one point five.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: none but gossip yet again

word count: 2.9k+

a/n: please do send me a message or comment down if you would like to be added on the succeeding taglists for the five times series! here is 1.5 times with ben. enjoy! thanks loves <3! (also, pls do imagine ben holding a graft rose for this one heh)

five times series: the first. the one point five. the second. the third. the three point five. the fourth. at last. text divider from @heavenlayt and pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

the one point five time.

In the hours of sunlight, callers have flooded the Y/L/N drawing room. All bringing gifts and performances in hopes to win the favourable yes of the season's paragon, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. The grand parlor, adorned with exquisite tapestries and sparkling chandeliers, buzzed with the lively hum of conversations and the tinkling laughter of society’s elite. Lavish bouquets of rare, fragrant flowers filled the room, their heady scent mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed tea and delectable pastries arrayed on silver platters.

Gentlemen, dressed in their finest attire, lined up to present their offerings to Miss Y/L/N, each one more extravagant than the last. Some brought intricate jewelry, glittering with precious stones, while others offered rare books, hoping to appeal to her reputed love of literature. Musicians performed virtuoso pieces on the grand piano, their fingers dancing over the keys in a bid to capture her attention through the power of melody. Poets recited verses composed in her honor, their words dripping with adoration and longing.

Miss Y/L/N, the epitome of grace and poise, received each suitor with a warm smile and a gracious word. Her eyes, sparkling with intelligence and kindness, moved across the room, acknowledging the efforts and intentions of each visitor. Her charm was such that even a simple nod or a softly spoken thank you felt like a cherished treasure to the eager suitors.

The hour had struck past 1 in the afternoon when, hopefully, the last caller of the day had bid his farewells. The Y/L/N drawing room, which had been a whirlwind of activity, now began to settle into a quieter, more contemplative atmosphere. The sunlight streaming through the large windows cast a bright hue over the room, highlighting the opulent furnishings and the array of gifts that had been presented to Miss Y/N Y/L/N throughout the morning.

Servants moved gracefully, clearing away the remnants of the lavish spread of refreshments while ensuring that every detail of the room remained immaculate. The air was still fragrant with the scent of roses, lilies, and other exotic flowers that had been brought by admirers, creating a heady, almost intoxicating environment.

"As much as I do love botanicals, all these flowers have turned obnoxious to my senses, Grandmama," Y/N sighed, feeling the urge to slouch on the couch. Her frame was poised elegantly despite her weariness, a testament to her upbringing and the endless etiquette lessons she had endured.

Her grandmother, the Viscountess Y/L/N, reentered the room with a look of satisfaction mixed with maternal concern. "My dear," she said softly, "you have conducted yourself admirably. The attention you have garnered is truly remarkable, but alas, this be the trials of being the season's paragon," she said with jest. "A small price to pay for such adoration and the opportunities it presents."

Y/N allowed herself a small, rueful smile. "It has been a most eventful day. I do hope I have shown the proper appreciation to each caller." She gently plucked a stray petal from her gown, its soft texture a stark contrast to her current mood.

"Rest assured, my dear, that this too shall pass," her grandmother replied soothingly. "Soon, you will look back on these days with fondness, perhaps even in laughter."

Y/N nodded, though she wasn't entirely convinced. She admired her grandmother's ability to see the positive in any situation. Lady Y/L/N had once been the toast of her own social season, and her wisdom was hard-earned through years of navigating similar waters.

"Would it be terribly improper to open a window, Grandmama?" Y/N asked, her eyes drifting towards the heavy drapes that concealed the afternoon breeze. "I believe a bit of fresh air might revive my spirits."

The Viscountess chuckled softly. "Not at all, my dear. In fact, I think it would do us both good." She motioned to a nearby maid, who quickly moved to pull back the drapes and open the window, allowing a refreshing breeze to sweep into the room. The cool air carried with it the scents of the garden outside, a welcome contrast to the overwhelming floral arrangements within.

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling instantly more at ease. "Thank you, Grandmama. That is much better."

"Now, my dear," Mrs. Y/L/N said, her tone becoming more serious, "while you have a moment of peace, tell me—was there any caller today who truly caught your eye?"

Y/N considered the question carefully. There had been many suitors, each with their own merits. Some had been charming, others earnest, and a few rather boastful. But it was not that she minded all these suitors; it was who she looked forward to that truly occupied her thoughts. It had been this Bridgerton man she'd hoped would be calling on her the entire morning. Unfortunately, he had not been seen yet in this drawing room.

"Y/N, my dear, are you still with us?" Lady Y/L/N's gentle voice broke through her reverie.

"Yes, Grandmama," Y/N replied, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "I was merely thinking."

"About anyone in particular?" her grandmother inquired with a knowing smile.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then decided there was no point in hiding her thoughts from her perceptive grandmother. "To be quite honest, I was hoping to see Mr. Bridgerton today.. well as of this morn," she admitted. "I fear he may have been otherwise engaged."

"Ah, Mr. Bridgerton," Lady Y/L/N said thoughtfully. "A fine young man, from a respected family. It is no wonder you look forward to his call. Perhaps he will still make an appearance."

Y/N nodded, though she knew the likelihood was slim as the noon wore on. She took another deep breath of the fresh air now circulating through the room, trying to shake off her disappointment. The season was long, and there would be other opportunities to see him again.

"There was Sir Nicholas Deveraeux. He was quite charming," Y/N remarked.

"He comes from a good family as well, but I've heard his uncle," Her grandmother leaned in conspiratorially, "envies the crown."

Y/N laughed at the Viscountess' antics. "Grandmama, that's quite scandalous. Wherever did you hear such a thing?" Y/N laughed.

"Deborah told me," her grandmother said, motioning to her maid. Y/N couldn't help but laugh at the notion of her grandmama indulging in gossip. "But I must tell you, I keep my options open still," she stated matter-of-factly, regaining my composure.

"Even though you are clearly captivated by Mr. Bridgerton's smile," Her grandmother teased. "It is wise to keep your options open, my dear, so as not to appear too eager for any one gentleman's attentions."

"Indeed," Y/N thought to herself, "it is prudent not to seem desperate and helpless this early in the season. After all, the season is just beginning, and there will be many more opportunities for maybe much more meaningful encounters."

The older woman patted the young lady's hand reassuringly. "You are a clever girl, my Y/N. Your charm and grace will surely attract many suitors. Just remember to enjoy the process and not to place all your hopes on one gentleman, no matter how enchanting his smile may be."

Y/N nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The season was an adventure, and she was ready to embrace it with an open heart and mind. As her grandmama said, there would be many chances to find the right match, and she intends to savor every moment.

Just as she was about to resign herself to the wait, a soft knock sounded at the drawing room door. Both Y/N and her grandmother turned their heads in surprise as the butler entered.

"Forgive the interruption, ma'am," he said with a slight bow. "But there is one more caller who has just arrived."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as the butler stepped aside, revealing none other than Mr. Bridgerton himself. He stood at the threshold, his confident demeanor softened by a warm, sincere smile.

"Good afternoon, Lady Y/L/N, Miss Y/L/N," he greeted them, bowing respectfully. "I apologize for my tardiness. I hope I am not intruding."

Lady Y/L/N's eyes twinkled with amusement as she replied, "Not at all, Mr. Bridgerton. We are delighted to see you."

Y/N felt her spirits lift instantly, her earlier fatigue forgotten. "Indeed, Mr. Bridgerton," she said, her smile reflecting the genuine pleasure she felt. "Your timing is impeccable."

Mr. Bridgerton's eyes met hers, and for a moment, it felt as though they were the only two people in the room. "I am glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N," he said. "I have been looking forward to our meeting."

As he stepped further into the room, bringing with him an air of warmth and possibility, Y/N knew that this visit was just the beginning. The season held many uncertainties, but in that moment, with Mr. Bridgerton's presence brightening the drawing room, she felt a renewed sense of hope and excitement for what was to come.

He walked closer, offering his wrapped gift with a warm smile. "I know of your love of botanicals. Although, I wasn't sure what to get, but I opted for a grafted Rosa Falstaff from our estate's own gardens."

Y/N's eyes widened with surprise and delight as she reached out to accept the potted rose. "A Rosa Falstaff? From your family's gardens?" she exclaimed, her fingers gently tracing the leaves and delicate blooms.

"Yes," Benedict nodded, his gaze softening as he watched her reaction. "I thought it would be a fitting addition to your collection, considering your fondness for floriculture."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton. This is truly truly thoughtful of you." Y/N's eyes lit up as she accepted the graft, appreciating the gesture.

Mr. Bridgerton smiled, a hint of relief and pleasure in his eyes. "I'm glad you like them, Miss Y/L/N. I thought something from home might be more personal and meaningful than the usual offerings."

Mrs. Y/L/N, observing the interaction with a pleased expression, decided to give the young couple some space. "If you'll excuse me, I have some correspondence to attend to," she said, rising gracefully. "Please, Mr. Bridgerton, make yourself comfortable."

As her grandmother left the room, Y/N gestured for Mr. Bridgerton to sit beside her on the elegant settee. "It's so refreshing to receive something so genuine," she said, placing the graft gently on the table beside them. "Tell me more about your estate's gardens. They must be quite beautiful."

Mr. Bridgerton settled into the seat, his expression brightening as he began to speak. "Our gardens are indeed a sight to behold, especially in the spring. We have a variety of flowers, from different roses to lavender, and even some more exotic species like that which my mother is particularly fond of. Each section of the garden has its own unique charm and character."

Y/N listened intently, her interest piqued not just by the subject but by the way he spoke with such genuine affection for his home. "It sounds enchanting," she said. "I would love to see it someday."

He smiled, clearly pleased by her response. "I would be honored to show you around Aubrey Hall, Miss Y/L/N. Perhaps you could offer some advice on expanding our collection of botanicals."

"I would be delighted," Y/N replied, her smile matching his. "There are always new species to discover and cultivate. It would be a pleasure to share that with someone who appreciates it as much as I do."

As they continued to talk, the conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on various topics of mutual interest. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them engrossed in their exchange. The connection they felt was palpable, a promising hint of what could be a deep and meaningful relationship.

The noon sun cast a golden glow through the open window, bathing them in warm light. It was as if the world outside had conspired to create the perfect moment, one that Y/N would cherish as the beginning of something truly special.

"Why not a change of scenery, Miss Y/N? May I enchant you to a walk with me this afternoon?" Mr. Bridgerton asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Y/N felt a flutter of excitement at his proposal, though very different from norm indeed. The thought of a leisurely walk, away from the confines of the drawing room and amidst the fresh air and beauty of the outdoors, was undeniably appealing. She glanced at her grandmother, who had discreetly lingered near the doorway.

Mrs. Y/L/N, catching her granddaughter's hopeful expression, gave a subtle nod of approval. "I think that sounds like a splendid idea, Mr. Bridgerton," she said. "A bit of fresh air through my garden will do you both good."

"Thank you, Grandmama," Y/N replied, her smile widening. She turned back to Mr. Bridgerton, her eyes meeting his with a mix of excitement and gratitude. "I would be delighted to join you for a walk."

Mr. Bridgerton offered his arm, which Y/N took with a graceful nod. Together, they made their way out of the drawing room and through the grand halls of the Y/L/N residence. The household staff, now accustomed to the comings and goings of numerous callers, discreetly stepped aside, offering polite smiles as the pair passed.

As they stepped out into the sunlight, the warmth of the afternoon embraced them. The gardens of the Y/L/N estate stretched out before them, a riot of color and fragrance that promised a delightful stroll. Birds chirped melodiously, adding a charming soundtrack to their walk.

"Your gardens are truly beautiful, Miss Y/L/N," Mr. Bridgerton remarked as they began their promenade. "It's easy to see where your love for botanicals comes from."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton," Y/N replied, her gaze sweeping over the well-tended flower beds and neatly trimmed hedges. "I find great joy in spending time here. There's something so peaceful about being surrounded by nature."

They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, taking in the beauty around them. Y/N's lady's maid chaperoning behind. The gravel path crunched softly underfoot, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead.

"I must admit," Mr. Bridgerton said, breaking the silence, "I was quite nervous about coming here today. I wasn't sure if my gift would be well-received."

Y/N looked up at him, surprised. "You needn't have worried," she assured him. "Your gift was one of the most endearing ones I have received. It speaks volumes about your character and your genuine interest. Quite a change in the morn's most fragrant bouquets. All exquisite but a tad bit too much on my senses." I gestured towards my nose.

He smiled, clearly relieved. "I'm glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N. I hoped to make a meaningful impression."

"You certainly have," she replied warmly. "And now, here we are, enjoying a lovely walk together. It seems your efforts have been rewarded."

As they continued their walk, their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on topics both serious and lighthearted. They shared stories, laughed together, and discovered common interests. The connection between them grew stronger with each passing moment, the bond of friendship and potential courtship becoming more tangible.

"So, do tell me more about you, Mr. Bridgerton."

"Do call me Benedict, if you please. Provided, of course, that you feel comfortable and we are beyond the earshot of your lady's maid." his eyebrows raise in suggestive jest.

Y/N chuckled, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "Very well, Benedict. You may address me by Y/N as well."

Benedict smiled, clearly pleased by her informal, now more familiar, address. "My days are usually spent at home, but sometimes, I spend my time in my art studio at the academy."

"Yes, you've mentioned of yourself an artist, I remember." Y/N remarked, intrigued. "That is fascinating. What sort of art do you create?"

Benedict's face lit up with enthusiasm as he began to describe his passion. "I work primarily with oils on canvas, though I do enjoy sketching as well. There's something incredibly satisfying about capturing a moment or a feeling in a piece of art. It’s a way to express myself that words sometimes fail to achieve."

Y/N listened intently, her admiration growing. "I would love to see your work someday. It must be wonderful to have such a creative outlet."

"It is," Benedict agreed, a note of pride in his voice. "And I would be honored to show you my studio and some of my pieces. Perhaps I could even paint your portrait, if you would allow me."

Y/N blushed at the thought, a mixture of shyness and excitement. "I would be delighted, Benedict. Though I must warn you, I may not be the most patient of sitters."

Benedict laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I’m sure we would manage just fine. And who knows, you might find the experience enjoyable."

"I look forward to it," Y/N said, her smile reflecting her genuine interest. "But tell me more about your family. I have heard much about the Bridgertons, but I would love to hear it from your perspective."

Benedict's expression softened as he spoke of his family. "We are a large, close-knit group. There are eight of us siblings, and we were all raised with a strong sense of duty and love seeing my late father and mother attend to our household. My mother, Violet, is the heart of our family. She has always encouraged us to pursue our passions and support each other."

"That sounds wonderful," Y/N said, touched by his words. "Family is so important. I imagine it must be lively with so many siblings."

"It certainly is," Benedict replied with a grin. "There is never a dull moment at Bridgerton House. We have our share of disagreements, of course, but we always come together in the end. All the laughter and camaraderie make it worthwhile."

Y/N felt a warm connection forming between them, their shared values and interests creating a bond that felt both natural and exciting. "I would love to meet them all someday, even so now that your brother has found himself a wife. Such exciting things!" she said.

"And they would be delighted to meet you," Benedict assured her. "I can already tell that you would fit right in."

"He thinks of me as someone who would fit with his family? I could feel my heart flutter," Y/N thought, the realization sending a warm, thrilling sensation through her.

As they continued their conversation, the afternoon sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the garden. The hours had slipped away unnoticed, a testament to the ease and enjoyment they found in each other's company.

Eventually the day had struck shy of 3 at afternoon and they made their way back to the main house, the promise of future meetings and shared experiences hanging in the air. As they reached the steps, Benedict turned to Y/N, his expression earnest and hopeful.

"Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, Y/N," he said. "I look forward to our next meeting."

"As do I, Benedict," Y/N replied, her heart full of anticipation. "Until then."

With a final, warm smile, Benedict took his leave, leaving Y/N with a sense of happiness and a fluttering hope for the future. The day had been more than she could have imagined, and she felt a deep sense of gratitude for the connection they had begun to forge.

taglist: @novausstuff @pussyslayerhd @amoosarte

[temiizpalace]

🎉Congrats on your milestone! 🎉Could I have idia and vil for prompt 4 pls?

☆┊TAKE MY JACKET, I INSIST. (💀 vs. 👑)

SUMMARY: COLD CHILLS RAN DOWN YOUR SPINE AS YOUR TEMPERATURE BEGINS TO DROP. HE OFFERS HIS JACKET LIKE A GENTLEMEN, BUT A CERTAIN SOMEONE HAD THE SAME IDEA.

CHARACTERS: idia shroud vs. vil schoenheit

EVENT MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: no determined end couple, jealousy

NOTES: vil and idia was such an interesting matchup i love it. tysm for your request!

reader is g/n, reader yuu

˚∘☆∘˚

he should’ve just stayed in his room.

idia roamed the halls of night raven in search of you. he just had to show you his recently imported collection of pokemon merch (that somehow exists here…) and can’t wait to nerd out and explain to you why pikachu could be goku in a fight. it was exciting to find someone willing to listen besides ortho.

until..

there you were. with vil. a SUPERMODEL and SUPER ACTOR, chatting away and having a good time. suddenly any and all of idia’s confidence was blown to smithereens and now he wants to go back to his room and weep. okay, cringe over exaggeration but he wants to go back to his room. just as he thought he shuffled out of sight, you spotted him in that split second and called him over. “idia! hi!” you wave, making him flinch.

hesitantly, he outs himself from hiding and waved back. “h-hey..” he mumbles, watching as you walked over. “what’re you doing outside of your room? i was just about to visit you.” you tease, poking his shoulder. “you were?”

“yeah! me and vil wanted to ask about the new game you bought the other day. apparently he was hired as a voice actor and wanted to get into character, yknow?” you stated that calmly, too calmly. vil? voice acting a game that he plays? seriously? that’s gonna be really weird playing the game and all of a sudden hearing your classmate grunting in pain.

“indeed. any facts for this character, idia? i’ve never voice acted, so this is not in my forte.” vil asks, showing him a photo. “u-uhm.. they’re super cunning, i gues?” idia stutters, backing away slowly. normally he’d love to geek out about this topic, but today was different. he was looking for you, and wanted to geek out to you. not to vil.. “while that’s super cool and all, i think i might head out now.. [MC], see you for our gaming sesh. v-vil.. bye.” and before you could even speak, idia walked faster than he never has before.

embarrassing. so embarrassing. he could barely hold eye contact, how in the world will he ever confess? all hope is lost. the world can end here and it’ll be better than this. overreacting again, but whatever. he wants to lie in bed, cover himself in the sheets, and sulk for a little. such a baby.

☆˚∘

idia rotted away in bed the rest of the day, scrolling through magicam for any new codes he could redeem in his games. a banner pops up, the contact leading to you. hesitantly, he opens the message. stargazing later!! u should come too!11!!

he stared at the message, unable to respond. he wants to go, but also doesn’t.. aaaaaaaa why did he have to like you, it’s not fair. as much as he wants to decline, he knew you’d probably ping him a billion times til he agrees, so he’ll save himself the trouble. sure i have nothing to do later lol

and now he’s here. sitting on the hill with you and vil. gee, it’s like he’s seeing this guy everywhere. “idia, i had no idea you were joining us.” vil says, crossing his arms while looking idia up and down with a glare. intimidated. that was the word to describe idia at this moment. “[MC] invited me.. so..” he murmurs, curling up into a small ball. “cheer up idia! you’ll miss the stars if you hide like that.” you grin, keeping him from hiding his face.

you and idia’s banter couldn’t help but make vil scoff. so noisy.. it should’ve been just you and him. why’d you invite that shut-in too? he’s just going to complain the whole time, right? alas, it can’t be helped. but vil has natural charm, perhaps that’ll win you over.

the breeze begins to pick up, making you shiver. you should’ve brought a jacket, but you didn’t want to miss anything. your negligence has costed you. “cold?” vil asks, watching as you covered your arms with your hands. “a little, but i should be fine.” you reassure him, waving it off like it’s nothing.

“y-you can wear my jacket..” idia stammers, unable to look at you. “hm?” you raise your brow, looking to the boy on your right. his face was flushed red, the tips of his hair slightly pink from embarrassment. “here.” he offers you his jacket, the one that looks ever so comfortable and extremely warm. the one he never lets go of, in your hands. “you mean it?” you ask in disbelief, staring at him as he hid himself further.

“just take it..” just as you were about to put it on, a coat drapes over your shoulders, the warmth catching you off guard. “what kind of gentlemen would i be if i let my dear friend freeze?” vil smirks, looking at idia with a shit-eating grin. “i insist you take your jacket back idia, wouldn’t want to get sick now.”

idia frowns at vil’s pettiness, suddenly feeling very competitive. “woah woah, hang on, wouldn’t want superstar vil schoenheit to get sick because of me. you should take your coat back so you don’t get frostbite.” idia states, taking the coat off you and back into vil’s arms. “please, there are filming conditions in colder weather.” vil scoffs. “should see my room in the summer months.” idia retorts.

“uhm.. guys?” you cut in, breaking their focus. “i can just run back to ramshackle really quickly..! don’t worry about it, stay here.” you get up, rushing down the hill. the silence became deafening, not even the trees rustling broke their awkward tension. refusing to face one another, they stare up at the starry sky. shooting stars begin to fly by, one by one, a never ending stream.

gazing upon it, they shut their eyes and make a wish.

he’ll marry you, and cut that other guy completely out of the picture.

they wished as they glare at each other discreetly.

A/N: shorter than others because i ran out of ideas euheuheueh

date published: 9/2/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

a/n : WAAAHHH another event organised by @queenpiranhadon THE QUEEN HERSELF !! this sm fun, hope yall enjoy !! lovely banner was also made by @queenpiranhadon IS THERE ANYTHING SHE CANT DO OMG.

modern au, fem reader, merman shoto, maybe ooc shoto but ehh were havin fun, shoto is very touchy, mute shoto for plot, shoto iq too handsome for his own good, shotos a prince, shoto is very inlove w reader but its all inoccent, shoto n reader are both in their 20's, reader has a dog ! fluffy fluff fluff, sorta cliffhanger, theres a lot of stuff not mentioned bc i like romance and nothing else, little hints of soulmates, falling in love quickly the events don't play out exactly like the fairytale but it's inspired !

walking on the beach is supposed to be relaxing. and usually, it is. there’s nothing you enjoy more than the sounds of the waves crashing and the wind howling in your ears. inhaling the sea air as max digs into the sand, barking out happily at every new big stick he’d found.

except this time, it’s not a big stick. but a big..person.

a human. person. unconscious you hope, you pray, sprawled out in the sand with clothes absolutely torn to shreds.

so yeah, not very relaxing.

it's been a few minutes since your dog had barked for your attention a little further down the beach. you'd happily giggled at first, thinking your dog might've an extra long stick for you to throw him only for you to see what looked like hair from your field of vision. and then an arm, a leg and now here you were.

anyone's first instinct should be to call an ambulance, of course he could be injured ! so with a start, you grab max by his collar to prevent him from licking off the handsome--you feel a little bad for gazing at him while he's unconscious/dead but you have to be honest--stranger's face off, and pull out your phone to call emergencies.

you look back down to check on him one last time only for him to be wide awake.

"oh, shit !" you squeal with a start, landing right on your ass from your crouched position over him. the man is unmoving at first, but gets up with a light groan. you want to help him, you really do, but you feel like someone's glued your butt to the floor.

this man you thought was dead seconds ago, about to call the ambulance for, has awoken. looking around aimlessly before his eyes land on you. he looks almost..entranced by you.

yet all you can think about is how gorgeous he is. a part of you still feels bad about it.

then he's a hair away from you and you can't breathe. you squeak embarrassingly loud, shooting up to your knees.

"um !" you gasp "hello..?" you back up a bit but he pays it no further mind continuing to blink at you. "are you okay? um--do you need medical assistance ?" from what you can see he doesn't look injured, so you're relieved, but you still want verbal confirmation.

except all he does is open his mouth a couple times before immediately closing it again. you blink at him and he blinks back at you.

"do-are you..okay ?" you ask tentatively, the man is unresponsive and you're seriously getting freaked out. "i- it's okay, we'll get you some help, lemme just.." you readjust to finally move and call emergencies, but something stops you.

a very cold hand is wrapped around your arm. you squeal at the chill, dropping onto your ass in front of the man. again. you don't want this to become a recurring thing at all.

finally the man gives you a response..sort of. he graces you with a shake of his head. his hair flows around softly and some water droplets fly off at the movement. he doesn't want you getting him help ?

"no ?" your eyebrows furrow "you..don't want help ?" he shakes his head again. you can tell he's trying to convey something but he can't seem to get it out. you wonder why he won't speak, and then you realise: he must be mute.

and now it's starting to make a bit more sense. you still wonder why he doesn't want paramedics involved. and you're mind races again, maybe he's a criminal on the run ?!

you blink, being brought back to reality by the handsome man who's sopping wet, freezing cold yet it barely seems to faze him with his grip still on his wrist. freezing to the touch yet you barely feel it with his eyes on you like this. he points to himself, then raises his thumb up. you're so lost in his eyes it takes you a moment to realise what he's saying.

i'm okay.

somehow, the man ended up staying at your house.

you know nothing about him, not his name, his age, though he looks about your age. you don't know where he's from or why he was in the state he was in but somehow he's ended up coming into your home.

you let him look around your house to his hearts content. this man is the epitome of strange, he seemed curious of everything in your house, even the dry clothes and the shower you offered him.

after explaining to him how your shower works, and he'd changed into fresh new clothes, the biggest tracksuit you could find, you find yourself currently looking at him watching tv, seemingly entranced. you've got half a mind to warn him about sitting too close to the tv since he's sitting right in front of it on the floor, but you decide against it

you know nothing about him, but he seems not to know anything..at all.

you don't know sign language, you have no idea how to communicate with him, you wrack your brain, scratching at your head with a huff. the sound seems to alarm him and he turns to you with a cute tilt of his head, you can somehow guess he's trying to ask you what's wrong, his eyes seem to be clouded with worry. you feel your skin heat up.

"i'm alright, thanks." he seems to understand. he nods, it seems his attentions gone from the tv to you as he keeps inspecting you. his sudden rising from the floor causes you to jump a little, eyes wide as he sits down next to you and softly bounces on the couch. he seems surprised by the softness of it as he bounces a couple more times and that does manage to get a giggle out of you.

he looks up at the sound and his eyes are fixed to yours again "nice huh ? i bought that when i first moved here." he nods, focused. it gives you the confidence to continue even though his intense gaze makes you a little anxious. "i slept on this for a while before i was able to actually buy myself a bed." you giggle, suddenly overcome with nostalgia. you'd moved to your small town about a year and a half ago, you were still young, freshly graduated when you decided to leave it all behind. your big bustling town, you're family and everything that you knew. you thought it was time for a new start, as big as your hometown was it felt extremely suffocating. you needed something new.

the first few months were a struggle, something to get used to. but you'd managed. you'd found a yourself a nice job with a nice pay. some nice neighbours and nice coworkers and the sweetest little (?)english sheepdog. said dog had gotten quickly attached to your unexpected guest, excitedly jumping all over and licking him. your guest though startled at first didn't seem to mind. even placing his hand on top of max's head as if to pet him and being surprised by the softness of his fur. he seemed to like soft things.

you shake your head, deciding to focus on your guest. who's eyes have not left yours. you don't know if you can get used to that. "so um..where are you from ?" he perks up at your question. grabbing your wrist so he could softly pull you over your window to point outside where you'd found him. his skin is considerably warmer now that he's not drenched, it makes your cheeks tingle how easily he grabs at you.

"uh, no that's not what i meant," you chuckle nervously, but he's adamant. shaking his head and pointing outside again. towards the sea. the sea ?

"the sea ?" you ask incredulously "you came from..the sea ?" he nods, almost excited that you'd figured it out..the sea ?

okay, there could be a rational explanation for that..maybe his boat got lost at sea..sure it was plausible, but that's never happened in your quiet little town. everything about this man was unusual.

at your doubt, the man's eyes widen just a bit. and it looks like he gets an idea because he starts pulling you over to your bathroom. you're trying to reason with him and get him to slow down, but he seems intent and set on getting to your bathroom.

"hey, what're you--ah !" you cover your eyes quickly when you notice him taking off his clothes, heart speeding up as you squeak "wha-what the hell are you doin' ?!" then the water starts running, and then nothing. you're curiosity peeked, you glance at him through your fingers and don't see what you'd expected. instead you see..scales? and a tail ?

and then your hands fall from over your eyes, and you fully see it. the mix of white and red scales, they shine underneath the light of your bathroom.

a tail.

the man you rescued from the beach has a tail and isn't a man at all.

you've got a merman in your house.

shoto is running late.

usually he's on time, but it seems the universe was against him today. his father had held him back with an endless lecture that seemed to drag on. he'd been more on edge, so to speak, since his son's coronation was approaching, a day he was absolutely dreading and everybody seemed to be on his back about it.

his sister had also held him back earlier. just for a chat she'd claimed, except shouto could tell it was a clumsy attempt to try and get some type of answer out of him, of why he's been sneaking off so often. she had lamented to him about her worries with his fascination of humans and their strange inventions. fuyumi was the only one he'd confided into about his collection of strange objects from the human world. tossed into the sea or scavenged from shipwrecked boats if he was feeling a little risky. however, what had started off as an innocent interest started becoming dangerous, in his sisters eyes, as he slowly started rising up to shore. closer and closer to humans.

she'd warned him to be careful, that humans were dangerous. shouto knew of the tales that were told about humans since he was young, of the unspeakable things they did to his kind. of course he did, but he just had a feeling not all humans could be like what he was told. as usual, he waves her off with the promise that he'd be vigilant as he swims off again.

he hopes he makes it in time.

someone calls for him suddenly and he stops in his tracks, the voice sounds familiar and he recognizes his fluffy haired friend izuku swimming up to him, shoto is tempted to ignore him. but it'd be mean, and unbecoming of a future king of the seas, so he waits for him to catch up. izuku midoriya was his one and only real confidant, his family had worked for his ever since they were both young and even if he was technically his servant, he could confidently call him his friend.

"hello, izuku." shoto greets simply, izuku quickly returns the greeting, before looking around to make sure they wouldn't be heard.

"were you going up to shore again ?" he asks nervously. shoto hums, nodding softly "i am." izuku stiffens, his fins flicker nervously.

"i-i don't know if that's the best idea.. i mean, your coronation is coming up and your father is even more on edge than usual-"

"what he doesn't know won't hurt him. which is why i'm expecting you not to tell him anything."

"of course not ! but his majesty is..." izuku cuts himself off, looking off to the side "i fear he's getting suspicious of your..activities?" he explains, wording it as best he can. shoto holds back the groan bubbling up in his throat: so many worries piling up and so little time.

it's unbecoming of a future king, but shoto decides he'll worry later.

"i'll think about him later." the disdain in his voice is palpable, but izuku being used to it doesn't react. he knows the relationship between the king and his son has been more than strained ever since the queen disappeared. some say she simply vanished, or left of her own volition, while other whispers claim she was instead captured by humans.

but after her disappearance the queen was never mentioned again, neither was the princes older brother, touya, when he disappeared not long before his mother did. the mere mention of them was forbidden, it was wiser to act is if they never existed in the first place.

izuku shakes his head and quickly swims up to follow the dual haired prince, who'd started swimming off in front of him.

both men finally rise up to shore. izuku hides besides a rock protruding from the sea floor while shoto decides to be a little bolder, peeking up to his chest from where he's perched up on the rock as well.

"ah ! shoto, you shouldn't !" izuku warns, but he simply shakes his head "it's fine, no one's here at this time of day." his eyes never leaving the sand in front of them, surveying the area like a hawk. he purses his lips. maybe he had been too late after all. he'd have to wait until tomorrow.

until he spots a mass of fluffy grey and white hairs. both he and izuku shrink back at the sound of a loud booming bark, shoto not as far sunk as izuku. then his gaze locks on to someone walking along with the furry beast.

a human.

the green haired merman has half a mind to warn his friend they should make their leave, however the young man is unmoving, seemingly entranced.

shoto breathes a sigh of relief, you've shown up at last.

it's usually at this hour that you walk along the beach with your companion. shoto's been watching you for a little while now and he's determined a routine. some days you stay longer than usual, but he's content to see you anytime, all the time. you're fascinating, the way you move around with those..legs of yours is something he can't his eyes off of. and you're breathtakingly beautiful to him, though is his father were to see you he's sure he'd think otherwise. he'd been told humans were hideous beasts, but he's never seen anything in all of the seas as beautiful as you in his years of living.

izuku snaps him out of his trance, urging him saying they should be on their way back lest the king get even more suspicious of both their absences. he wants to keep looking at you, forever if he could. part of him even wishes he could walk along the sand with you.

but he retreats after a final look to you, and dives back down towards his home, so far away from you.

he wished he'd never went back home though, when his father had decided to get on his last nerve yet again. constantly nagging, constantly berating him like he knew any better. lecturing him about how his behaviour was unacceptable for a future king.

he knows that, he's heard it all before. as he swims further and further away from home he wishes it could all just stop. this future king talk, the coronation. he wishes it could all just fucking cease.

and he wishes he could be with you above all else. you'd understand, you wouldn't nag him about his duties. hell, you wouldn't even have to know, you'd just see him for him. and that's all he wants.

if only, he wishes.

until he's being lured away by some sea creatures who for sure mean trouble, but they've intrigued him with promises of making his wishes come true. when he's suddenly faced with the sea witch, he knows he should get away and fast, making a deal with her was not advised if you cared for your own life.

..and yet, she says she can give him what he truly desires. and what he desires is a life where he doesn't have to gaze at you from afar. where he can only dream and wish for if only's.

and he can't turn back now.

it takes a lot longer to get used to the fact that you have a merman in your house. you've been glued to the tv in shock for an hour, not processing anything happening on it while the merman in question casually watches, munching on some candy you'd offered him when you'd first made it home.

it's funny, if you think about it a little bit. you're friendly with your coworkers yet not a single one of them has ever been to your house before. and now you've got a fucking mythical sea creature in sitting on your couch eating watermelon candies.

truly hilarious.

you catch a peek at him from the corner of your eye, you're surprised by how easily he's entertained, especially since he's only looking at an informercial but you think you can understand why now. why he seemed so confused, and maybe this was also why he can't talk ? but he could understand you perfectly.

god, your head hurt.

there's a weight against your skull and when you look up from your lap, the merman has his head pressed to yours. you hold back a squeal, because you are beyond tired of embarrassing yourself in front of him, a harsh intake of breath leaves you. he tilts his head at you, you've gotten good at de-cyphering what he means in the two hours you've known him. you sigh.

"i-i'm alright..thanks" you speak sincerely, his shoulders relax but he doesn't lean very far away from you, visibly comfortable being so close to you. "i'm just..in shock..i had no idea mermaids even existed..!" you chuckle, then quickly cover your mouth "merman, sorry !" he doesn't seem to mind, shaking his head with a barely there smile. it's a faint pull of his lips that could've been missed but you'd caught it and your heart hammers in your chest--were all mermen this pretty ?!

"well..um, i bet seeing a human up close like this is pretty surprising too ?" he nods and you laugh. "is it what you expected at least ?" he nods again, but it feels..softer, more personal. like it was directed at you and you only, for some reason. the close proximity between you both seems familiar.

you're everything he expected and more.

"do you..have a name ? ah !" you catch yourself quickly, running off to your room, not before telling him you'd be right back, you barely see him nod with widened eyes. you pull out a random book you left unfinished for..you don't remember how long now.

if he understood you speaking, maybe he could understand how to read ?

it's a possibility and you lose nothing by trying.

you're back next to him and place the book between you both, he leans in closer, inspecting the words on the page with an unreadable expression.

you tell him your name, and start spelling it out with the letters on the page. you hope it works, that'd make it a whole lote easier if it does, so you ask him for his name.

it takes him a second, but soon the dots start connecting, and he slowly points to five different letters

s-h-o-t-o

"shoto.." you sound out, you look back up at him. his face is soft and the small smile on your face makes you smile too "shoto ?" and he nods happily "it's nice, i like it." you admit, his eyes shine brightly and he points to you and nods. you think he's saying he likes your name too, so you thank him with a giggle and your hunch his confirmed when he smiles just a little wider, the corner of his eyes crinkling.

seriously are all mermen this pretty ? it's a little unfair that more mermen don't show up in town.

but you think even if they were to suddenly appear, you'd like shoto the best.

shoto seems to have superhuman abilities, besides the not being human part..

in only a week, he's learned how to write and you've been communicating by passing notes and using a white board you'd gotten him while you were out shopping, you figured it'd be easier and a little less confusing.

he's been here for two weeks now, and it's been fun. so fun in fact you forget he's not human with how easy he's adapted into your life. he goes shopping for and with you sometimes, he loves watching and he likes to take walks with max, the both of them being inseparable. you'd be a little jealous if it wasn't so damn adorable. you're still enjoying your break from work and shoto makes it much more enjoyable, it's nice to have someone else around for a change.

you've..talked, about a lot of stuff with shoto, but one thing he will not talk about is himself, and you've decided not to pry. especially because you hate seeing the conflicted, sad look on his face. he talks to you about his kind, and his friends, but never too much about himself. you don't pry, but it surprises you that even mermaids have baggage.

"is there anything you wanna do today, shoto ?" you wonder if he ever gets bored, he doesn't say anything about it, but you know you're not all that entertaining..maybe you'll take him go kart racing.

shoto stops petting max to grab at his white boards, quickly scratching something down.

can i watch a movie with you ?

your heart stutters. every time you suggest an activity for him to do he always adds you in it. it's stupidly endearing and makes him cuter than he already is.

"but don't you wanna do anything else ? " he tilts your head for you to continue "like..aren't you bored ? i know i don't do anything interesting...you don't wanna do something more exciting ?"

he blinks, and writes down something on his white board that has your mouth go dry.

i like doing anything because you do it with me.

"o-oh.." you mutter, fiddling with the texture of your couch, picking at it softly "that's nice.."

after a moment of quiet he presses his head to yours, as affectionate as ever to get your attention, you blink up at him holding up his whiteboard and a smile forms onto your face.

movie ?

you let him pick this time.

"if you want to be able to live with your beloved.. you must manage to do one thing.."

a kiss. a true love's kiss.

shoto has seen a lot of kisses in the few weeks he's been with you. he remembers the first kiss he'd received was when your elderly neighbour had knocked at your door thinking you were home while you were at the grocery store. she must've thought he was your mate, because she'd congratulated him and told him to treat you nice because you're a very sweet and pretty girl, which he'd intensely nodded at. she'd grabbed him by the shoulder and softly pressed both her cheeks to him, and you'd explained to him that she had kissed him as a sign of politeness. a common human courtesy.

he'd seen kisses on tv, kisses on the street, but none of them compared to the description of a true love's kiss. none of them felt fitting enough.

something on tv catches his eye. the movie has gotten to the climactic scene, a new term he'd learned. and the main love interests are desperately clinging to each other. their lips are touching, but it doesn't look like the kisses he's seen before..strange.

it confuses him, so he taps your shoulder and writes his thoughts down.

what are they doing ?

you clear your throat, your eyes widen. your eyes are so pretty. "they're kissing, shoto.. we've seen that before right ?"

but it looks different.

you hum in thought "well, i guess i can put it like.." you purse your lips in thought, you look so cute when you're deep in thought. "they love each other a lot, so being away from each other made them..um, do that. it's 'cus they care about each other alot..i think."

love..

have you done that before ?

you splutter as your eyes fly across the whiteboard, shoto shuffles so he can sit closer to you. you don't move away, you smell so nice.

"n-no..i don't think i've loved someone enough to.." you whisper, gaze flying from him to the small space between you both.

the sound of the white board dropping to the floor doesn't alarm you, neither does the way his hands slowly reach towards your cheeks. he does nothing but run his hands across your cheeks for a while, simply gazing at you. he presses his forehead to yours and you feel his breath his your face, your eyelashes flutter as his head softly bumps against yours. his nose nuzzles against yours, you're so soft.

you don't have to read anything to know what his eyes are asking you silently, you nod anyways.

shoto doesn't exactly know what love means by humans standards, but by his standards and the little he knows he thinks this might be it as he presses his lips to yours. it's not as desperate and dramatic as on tv, and there's no melodramatic music playing in the background.

but he loves this, he loves you.

you pull away when he presses you back against the couch, and suddenly something feels different. your chest feels warm. you feel loved.

"that..was nice..woah." you breathe, and shoto nods, mirroring the smile growing on your face. what you don't expect is for him to open his mouth and speak.

"it was.." he hums, your eyes are the size of saucers and he huffs out a light laugh "do you think..i could do that again with you ?"

you nod, in a trance, but as he leans in you grip his shoulders. he blinks up at you

"..wait, how long were you able to talk ?" you're unblinking, and it makes him chuckle lightly.

"just now." he answers simply, before you can ask more questions he stops you "i will explain later, i promise." he nuzzles his nose to yours "but for now.." he kisses your cheek "i'd like to learn about this..love feeling.with you." he kisses your other cheek, always adding you in "will you let me ? "

you're willing to let him do anything as long as he does it with you, as long as he keeps adding you in like you're the only one that matters, you want to keep mattering to him. and you want to learn more about your feelings too.

so you laugh, and with a smile, you pull him back into you.

a/n : eeeee i loved participating to this event theheheh ! tumblr quit deleting my drafts but i still had tons of fun ! hope yall enjoy reading MUAH MUAH !!

taglist ! : @queenpiranhadon @starieq @lovelyiida @lady-ashfade @angels-fantasy

@seonne @sweetnans @vexis-world @2melamoo2 @tootiecakes234

@4evapika

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

the right wrong number

pairing: pre/no outbreak!joel miller x soccer coach!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6k

summary:

When Joel receives a dirty text from an unknown number, he gives into his curiosity and messages back.

He doesn’t expect the number to belong to his daughter’s summer camp soccer coach.

dear reader:

this work is a request and a birthday gift for my sweet baby @mydailyhyperfixations , who’s been one of my biggest supporters since i started posting my work on tumblr. ily, and i hope you love the fic! special thanks to @cutesyscreenname for helping me with some lil details to finish this surprise. support and mdni banners by @saradika

content warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), age difference (undefined, but references are made), pre/no outbreak!joel miller, identity porn, wrong number au, sexting, dom/sub dynamics, use of ‘sir’, pet names, praise, thigh riding, semi-public sexual activity, spanking, safe word discussion, dirty talk, p in v. let me know if i’ve missed any!

Unknown Number: I had a really good time at dinner tonight!

Joel stares at his phone in confusion. It’s past midnight and he’s been sitting on the couch nursing a beer and watching Indiana Jones. He’s been in the same spot since Sarah went to bed a couple hours ago. His phone beeps again.

Unknown Number: It’s too bad we didn’t have time to visit Noir.

Joel raises his eyebrows. Noir is a bar in downtown Austin known for its calendar of speciality kink events. He’s seen it come up in his Google searches of local bars and had considered going to an event or two but never worked up the courage. His kinks remain between him and his porn search history.

Unknown Number: Wanna see what you missed out on?

[Photo 01.jpg]

Curiosity gets the better of him and he clicks on the image attachment. He nearly drops his phone when a photo of a woman fills his screen, sweet curves hugged by black lace on white sheets. He should absolutely tell her that she has the wrong number. His fingers type across the screen.

Damn, seems a shame something that gorgeous is going to waste.

Unknown Number: Who says it has to go to waste?

Joel swallows nervously. He’s already hard in his jeans, cock pressing urgently against his pants. He palms himself, trying to collect his thoughts.

Unknown Number: I’m feeling a little needy over here.

[Photo 02.jpg]

Against his better judgment, Joel opens the second photo and has to bite back a groan at the image of the woman’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of the panties, fingers hidden from sight behind lace and silk.

You want me to tell you how to play with that pretty pussy?

Joel squeezes his eyes shut as he presses send. This is a colossally stupid idea. This is a stranger, and he’s not the intended recipient of these messages.

Unknown Number: I’d really like that, sir.

Fuck it, Joel thinks. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Start by circling those fingers over your clit. Nice and slow.

And when you feel like you could cum, I want you to go even slower.

Unknown Number: It’s too slow. I want more.

Be patient, baby. And aren’t you forgetting something?

Unknown Number: Sorry. I want more, SIR.

Joel presses a hand to the bulge in his jeans, the pressure offering little relief.

Now don’t start being a brat, sweetheart. You won’t like the result.

Unknown Number: Oh yeah? What would you even do?

I’d love nothing more than to bend you over the edge of the bed, ass ready to be spanked red.

Unknown Number: Fuck, that would feel so good. Bet your hands would feel amazing marking me up.

You still being a good girl and following my instructions?

Unknown Number: I think I forgot. Could you remind me, sir?

You’ll have to ask more nicely than that.

Unknown Number: Could you *please* remind me, sir?

Joel runs a hand over his beard before reaching for the forgotten beer on the coffee table and taking a swig.

You’re supposed to be teasing yourself for me. Nice and slow.

I want you to pinch your nipples until they’re nice and tight, too.

Unknown Number: Like this?

[Photo 03.jpg]

Joel bites his lip as he opens the third photo. You’ve got your bra pulled down to expose your nipples, hard and perfect and begging for his mouth. He unbuttons his jeans, tossing his phone on the couch only long enough to shimmy the denim down his thighs and free his leaking cock.

Just like that, baby. Such a good girl for me.

Unknown Number: Are you touching yourself, too, sir?

Of course I am, baby.

Unknown Number: Can I see, sir? Please?

Joel’s hand falters as alarm bells blare in his head. He should absolutely not open his camera. And he should definitely not find the perfect angle that doesn’t show his face. And he certainly should not grip his cock around the base, holding it steady as the shutter sounds and a new photo is saved to his camera roll.

No. He shouldn’t do any of that.

[Photo 04.jpg]

Unknown Number: God, your cock would feel so good in me right now.

Joel’s right hand moves at a steady pace up and down his length, left hand fumbling to type a reply.

Why don’t you fuck your little fingers and pretend it’s me, then?

Unknown Number: Won’t fill me up nearly as much, sir.

Be a good girl and follow my directions, baby.

Unknown Number: [Photo 05.jpg]

He opens the photo and his cock pulses in his fist. She has her underwear shoved to the side, two fingers plunged into her glistening pussy. His mind reels with an image of this faceless woman writhing on the bed reading his words, thinking about his cock stretching her open and he has to bite his lip to just keep the responding moan trapped in his throat.

Unknown Number: Can I cum, sir? Please?

Since you asked so nicely, yes. Make yourself cum for me, sweetheart.

Joel sets the phone aside on the couch, closing his eyes as he pumps himself with a tight fist while he imagines your desperate pussy clenching around your fingers. He cups his palm over the head of his cock as his release hits him like a freight train, hips flexing from the couch to chase the lingering sensations of ecstasy from his hand.

He stands, pulling his pants up without bothering to fasten them so that he can wash his hands in the kitchen sink. Guilt settles on his shoulders as he dries his hands with the dish towel while he stares at the couch where his phone is lit up with another message from a stranger he had no business seeing that much of.

He approaches the couch and sits with a sigh, running a hand over his face before picking his phone up to read her message:

Unknown Number: Easily my best orgasm. Hope it was for you, too. Don’t be a stranger xx

Feeling like an asshole, Joel deletes the thread and the wrong number for good, but it’s fine.

It’s not like he’ll ever meet her, anyways.

——————

You’re on the phone with your best friend, telling her about how the last guy you went out with about a week ago, a guy named Jeremy you met on a dating app, still hasn’t reached out to you again despite what you’d thought was a successful date.

“So he just never reached out to you after you sexted him all night?” She asks. “Men are so weird.”

You cradle the phone between your ear and shoulder as you zip up your duffel bag of equipment. It’s the beginning of June and the summer soccer intensive camp for junior league starts today. You’ve got a full registration for the girl’s 13-15 division and you’re excited to get back on the field and help these girls do their best in a sport you love.

“Nope. Maybe I came on too strong? I don’t know,” you reply.

“You did come strongly. At least, that’s what you told me,” she says with a laugh. “Well, that’s too bad. Maybe you’ll meet a hot dad coaching this year.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not fucking someone’s dad.”

“Never say never, babe.”

“I gotta go find my damn cleats. I’ll talk to you later,” you tell her.

“Fine, I expect a full run down of every DILF you meet today.”

You hang up as she laughs, tossing your phone into your personal bag that you keep separate from the gear before you go in search of your cleats from your room.

——————

Joel and an over-excited Sarah sit in the parking lot of the soccer field that her summer camp is being conducted at, ridiculously early at Sarah’s insistence because she didn’t want to be late on the first day. They’re the only car in the parking lot so far, having apparently beat even the coach, and Joel sips at his travel mug of coffee in the hopes that it grants him energy.

Another car pulls up and parks beside his truck, loud music blaring from the open window. Sarah waves excitedly.

“That’s the coach,” she explains.

Joel watches you get out of your car and pop the trunk. You start pulling out bags of soccer balls and stacks of orange cones, bags of agility equipment and strength training aids. He opens the door to his truck and jogs over.

���Hey, you need any help with that?” He asks. You look over at him in surprise, eyes wide.

“Oh, uh, sure. That would be great,” you reply.

“I’m Joel Miller, and this is my daughter, Sarah,” he says, gesturing to the young girl. She gives a little wave and he extends a hand out to you.

You give him your name, shaking his outstretched hand. “Y’all are a little early,” you reply, hefting a bag over your shoulder.

“My dad’s always late but I didn’t want to be late for camp,” Sarah says. Joel narrows his eyes at her.

“Not a problem. You can help me set up the cones,” you tell her. His daughter gives you a bright smile and he almost forgives her for throwing him under the bus. “I’ll grab these two bags, you grab the cones, and Mr. Miller, could you grab the balls, please?”

Joel fights back his childish laughter at your request, grabbing the bags as instructed. “Just Joel, please.”

You smile at him and he feels a bit blindsided by how it makes his heart beat faster, his palms a little sweatier. You’re very pretty, fresh faced and ready for a day of work, wearing one of those quick dry workout shirts that clings to your curves and a pair of shorts that show off your strong legs. Some traitorous part of his brain wonders what it would feel like to have those legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Alright then, Just Joel. Let’s go.”

——————

“Thank you for the help,” you tell Sarah’s dad. You’re trying very hard not to let your eyes linger on the bulge of his biceps or the broad expanse of his back as he sets down the two bags of soccer balls and places his hands on his hips.

He’s a handsome man, older than you by at least a few years, with tan skin and dark hair and kind brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles at something Sarah says. His daughter has the same brown eyes and olive skin, her dark curly hair pulled into a bun.

Of course the first parent you meet this summer is a hot dad. It’s like you’ve spoken it into the universe.

“Not a problem. Glad I can be useful if I’m goin’ to be here this early,” he replies with a narrowed glance at Sarah, who is suddenly very interested in the stack of cones she carried to the field. “Anythin’ else you need me for?”

“Let me get you the game schedule and contact sheet.” You open your bag and pull out your folder of materials you like to give to parents, assembling a stack of papers for him. “On top you’ve got the emergency contacts sheet. Fill that out with your contact information and an alternate’s information, too, just in case I can’t reach you or someone else needs to pick Sarah up. You’ll want to have Sarah bring that back tomorrow.”

You flip the page. “The second page is just a welcome letter. It’s got my phone number on it, feel free to text or call if you have any questions or if Sarah can’t make it one day.”

“And then last we’ve got the camp schedule. The girls will have two tournament days where they’ll play against some nearby summer camp leagues. You can sign up to bring a snack by filling out the piece at the bottom. Do you have any questions?”

“I don’t suppose I do. You’re very organized,” he says, taking the packet from you. You can feel your cheeks heating.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “Well, I gotta finish setting up.”

“I won’t get in your way.” He calls out to Sarah and the young girl runs up to give him a hug goodbye. “Be good. I’ll see you later.”

——————

Joel Miller is the first at the field in the mornings helping you set up for the day and last parent to leave at pick-up, after he’s loaded your trunk up with the equipment, wiping the sweat from his brow as he grins at you.

His daughter is a great player, quick on her feet and smart as a whip, picking up the footwork skills you teach like they’re second nature. You’re telling Joel as much Friday afternoon in the second week of camp when Sarah bounds up and asks if you want to get ice cream with them.

“That’s a great idea, baby girl,” Joel says before you can decline. You blink at him and he gives you that lopsided grin that’s been giving you butterflies since the first day on the field. “But if you order mint chocolate chip, you’re buyin’ it yourself.”

“Good news, I’m a plain ol’ chocolate kinda gal,” you tell him with a laugh.

“Me, too!” Sarah says.

“I’ll follow you guys,” you suggest. Joel gives you a quick nod, herding Sarah into his truck and taking off toward town.

You follow them to a little ice cream parlor, the kind that sells old fashioned sundaes and thick milkshakes with red and white striped straws. You park beside them, watching as Sarah hops from the truck with a wide grin on her face and her dad comes around, slinging a strong arm over her shoulder and pulling her close. Your heart feels warm looking at them.

Once inside, Joel and Sarah end up ordering a sundae to split while you get a small cone of chocolate ice cream. You try to tell Joel not to pay for you, but he hits you with a look that has your mouth going dry, any argument disappearing as all your blood rushes south and makes you ache between your legs.

“I’ll go get us a table outside,” you offer, licking at your treat. You don’t miss the way Joel’s eyes track the path of your tongue.

You watch the busy foot traffic while you wait for the Millers to join you, the warm Texas air wrapped around you while you enjoy the slight breeze and your cold dessert.

A deep voice calls your name and you look around, finding a familiar face on the crowded sidewalk.

“Jeremy, hey. How are you?” You ask as the man approaches. It feels like forever ago that you went to dinner together and looking at him now you think he’s handsome but he doesn’t hold a candle to Joel.

“I’m good. Been busy. I gotta say, I was a little bummed I didn’t hear from you after our date. Thought we had a good time,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“Didn’t…hear from me?” You ask nervously.

He tilts his head. “Yeah. Thought you said you would text me when you got home.”

“Uh…yeah. Sorry. I guess I just forgot.”

The bell dings above the door to the ice cream parlor, Joel and Sarah emerging with a sundae piled with whipped cream. Jeremy looks toward them, then back at you.

“I’m guessing another date is off the table?” He asks, slipping his hands into his pants pockets.

Joel looks between the two of you, brow furrowed as he sets the sundae on the metal table and Sarah takes a seat, digging in immediately.

“Jeremy, this is Joel and his daughter, Sarah. She’s in my soccer camp this summer. Joel, this is my friend Jeremy,” you introduce. Jeremy holds a hand out to Joel, who shakes it briefly, brows still pinched.

“I better get going. Nice seeing you, let me know if you want to get together again,” Jeremy says before turning to leave. When you glance at Joel, his shoulders are drawn up and jaw clenched tight as he stabs his spoon into his ice cream.

“What do you guys have planned this weekend?” You ask to break the silence. Sarah perks up and begins to tell you about how her Uncle Tommy, Joel’s brother, is taking her to a local carnival. You listen and nod along despite the fact that your thoughts are stuck on Jeremy’s words.

If it wasn’t Jeremy on the other end of your conversation that night…who was it?

——————

As the three of you walk back to your vehicles, Joel’s still thinking about that man who’d been talking to you at the ice cream shop and how it made his blood burn hot to hear him mention going on a date with you. His pulse pounded in his ears as he shook the guy’s hand, any information about the guy going right over his head. He didn’t even taste the ice cream or hear the conversation you and Sarah had about the weekend, lost in his thoughts about how between early mornings helping you prep for camp and late afternoons at pick up have all somehow allowed you to burrow into his heart.

A hand wraps around his bicep, halting him in his steps. He glances at your concerned face and suddenly all that tension leaves him in a rush. Sarah says her goodbye, hugging you around your waist before hopping into the truck, leaving the two of you alone.

“You okay?” You ask, taking a step closer.

“I’m great, sweetheart. Get home safe,” he says, eyes dipping briefly to your mouth. Your tongue pokes out, tracing your lower lip. He takes a step back before he’s tempted to lean in and chase the taste of chocolate and you.

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Bright and early.”

——————

Sarah spikes a fever Sunday night and spends the night curled around the toilet while Joel coaxes some water into her and keeps her hair out of harm's way. When it seems that the worst of her nausea has passed, Joel leaves her to rest in her bed while he goes downstairs and grabs the contact list you’d given him at the beginning of camp.

He starts a text, letting you know that Sarah’s sick and won’t make it to camp, at least for today. When it’s sent, he heads back upstairs, armed with a sleeve of crackers to deliver to his daughter.

Maybe he can squeeze in a little bit of sleep for himself.

——————

Hey, it’s Joel. Sarah’s sick and won’t make it to camp today.

You stare at the text, mind reeling. Not because a parent is texting you, that’s pretty common and you hope Sarah is doing okay, but because you already have a thread with Joel.

One where you’d called him sir and told him his cock would feel so good inside of you because you’d thought you’d been texting Jeremy. Your cheeks feel so hot you worry spontaneous human combustion could actually be a thing.

What are you even supposed to do in this situation? Do you tell him about it?

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. Oh, also, you’ve sent me a picture of your dick.

You delete the last line immediately, hitting your phone against your forehead like doing so might make your thoughts make sense.

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. Any chance you can make good on that promise and bend me over the bed?

You delete the last line again with a groan.

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. There’s something I want to talk to you about. Would you be able to meet with me after practice this week? Or sometime this weekend?

You hit send before you can back out, tossing your phone in your bag as you get ready to head out the door.

——————

Joel wakes later in the morning and reads your text message. His mind races with what you could want to talk to him about. Maybe you noticed how he reacted to your friend and wanted to tell him you’re uncomfortable? Or maybe something to do with Sarah?

Fuck, he thinks, scrubbing a hand over his face. He reads the message a few more times but it doesn’t reveal any additional clues. He types out a message, pressing send before he can overthink the contents.

She seems to be doing better. Should be back to camp tomorrow. I can meet you somewhere for dinner on Friday after camp? My treat.

——————

Joel’s text plays on a loop in your brain for the rest of the week. Unlike the previous weeks of camp, he and Sarah don’t show up early. In fact, he’s been dropping her off almost at the last minute and picking her up promptly when camp ends, always managing to show up when you’re already pulled into conversation with another parent and driving off before you have a chance to talk with him.

On Friday, Joel is at the field early, leaning against his truck as he talks to Sarah. You park beside them, and he helps you unload your car and set up for the day, just as he had the weeks prior, making small talk like he hadn’t just spent the week dodging you after suggesting dinner. When everything is unpacked and Sarah is kicking a ball around, you follow Joel to his truck under the guise of needing one more thing from your car.

“Hey, are we still on for dinner?” You ask him. He runs a hand through his hair and you try not to let yourself zero in on the way his bicep flexes with the motion.

“‘Course. How ‘bout I meet you at that diner downtown? The one with the—“

“All day breakfast?” You finish. Joel grins.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Is six good?”

“Six is great.” You smile back at him, lost in the way his eyes crinkle in the corners and his mouth lifts slightly higher on the right.

“Coach!” Sarah yells, making you jump.

“Guess I better get out there,” you say, shifting nervously.

“Yeah, I’ll uh…I’ll see you later?” He asks.

“Looking forward to it.”

——————

To your surprise, it’s not Joel that picks up Sarah that afternoon, but another man with familiar brown eyes and dark curly hair. You grab your folder from your bag as Sarah greets the man, flipping through the pages until you’ve found her emergency contact form.

“Hey there,” the man says, a grin lighting up his face. “I’m Sarah’s Uncle Tommy.”

You shake the hand he’s held out towards you and introduce yourself. “Nice to meet you. Mind if I check your ID for alternate pick up?”

“Go right ahead,” he replies, pulling a worn brown leather wallet from his jeans and handing you his ID from its contents. “Don’t judge the photo, alright? It’s old.”

A younger version of the man in front of you is pictured on the card, his curly dark hair buzzed short and a grim expression on his face. You note the name THOMAS MILLER beside the picture and check it against Sarah’s emergency contact form.

“Thanks, Tommy,” you tell him, handing back the ID. There’s a brief silence where Tommy seems to be assessing you.

“So…,” he says, rocking on his heels, “you’re the girl that’s got Joel all tangled up, huh?”

You blink. “Uh—“

“Uncle Tommy! Let’s go!” Sarah shouts from the parking lot.

“Hold your horses!” Tommy yells. He gives you one last knowing smirk. “Have fun with Joel tonight!”

You watch him jog over to the truck and get behind the wheel, Sarah waving at you as he pulls out of the parking spot. You wave back, but your mind is stuck on Tommy’s words, the implication of them having your stomach doing backflips.

——————

Joel’s fingers fidget with the straw wrapper, ripping it into small pieces that build in a pile on the laminate table while he waits for you to arrive for dinner. He’s still not sure what this is all about and that uncertainty has had him stuck in his head to the point where Tommy was giving him a hard time at work about it.

“Let me know if you need me to stay with Sarah overnight,” Tommy had said as Joel checked himself in the hall mirror one last time before leaving the house.

“It ain’t like that,” he grumbled back, but there was no changing his brother’s mind.

“Sure, you keep tellin’ yourself that.”

The bell above the diner door rings with a new customer, pulling Joel from his thoughts. You’ve just walked in wearing a dress, a far cry from the soccer shorts and t-shirt he’s seen you in every day this summer. His gaze is pulled to the tantalizing glimpse of your chest he gets from the deep neckline and the way the fabric swishes against your thighs as you approach.

“Hi,” you say, sliding into the booth across from him. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Sure,” Joel says, giving you what he hopes is a confident smile but he’s almost certain it’s more of a grimace.

A silence settles over the table as you both look at the laminated menus like they hold the secret to the universe. The waitress swings by and takes your orders - chocolate chip waffles for you and a medium rare burger for Joel.

“How’s Sarah doing with the camp?” Joel asks.

“She’s doing great. Easily one of the best players I’ve got this year,” you reply.

“Good that’s…good. You used to play for UT, right?”

“Yep, starting forward until I tore my ACL,” you tell him. “Now I coach because you can take the girl out of soccer but you can’t take the soccer from the girl.”

“That’s impressive,” Joel comments. “Is coaching your full time job?”

“No, I work in marketing for an instrument production company.”

“Really? You play anything?”

“Some guitar, a little piano. Nothing crazy. Do you?”

Joel laughs. “Been a while, but I got a guitar stashed away in a closet somewhere.”

The waitress returns with your food, setting the plates in front of you and asking if either of you need anything else before leaving the two of you to your meals.

Joel is a few bites into his burger when you set your fork down and say, “Look, I’m just gonna come right out and say it. You’ve sent me a picture of your dick.”

Joel nearly chokes, sputtering for air around his burger and grabbing his Coke, desperate for relief. He chugs the beverage, tears in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” You ask, wide eyes full of concern.

“No, I’m not okay, what do you mean I’ve sent you a picture of my dick?” He hisses, looking around the mostly empty diner.

“About a month ago I went on a date with that guy I ran into at the ice cream place, Jeremy? We met on a dating app so we were messaging through there and he gave me his number at the end of the night,” you say quickly. “And I texted the number with some…racy photos. And messages.”

Joel feels the rising panic in his chest. No, there’s absolutely no way that random number could have been you. There’s no way he sexted his daughter’s soccer coach.

“I didn’t find out it was you until you texted me about Sarah being sick. I still had the chat with your number,” you finish, reaching into your bag and pulling out your phone. Joel watches with building dread as you tap on the screen and set the phone on the table, sliding it toward him.

You’ve opened the chat with him, the innocuous messages at the bottom about Sarah missing camp giving way to photo attachments he doesn’t dare click on but remembers vividly. He looks up at you.

“I…I’m so sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have replied, the messages weren’t meant for me.”

“I’m not mad,” you assure him. “A little embarrassed, maybe. But also…can I be completely honest?”

“Of course.”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your messages.”

Joel’s mouth drops open in surprise. “You…really?”

“Yeah. And knowing it’s you…,” you say, voice trailing off. Your eyes are dark, a little smirk playing on your lips that has Joel’s cock twitching with interest. “Well, that makes it better.”

“It does?” Joel asks. You nod, picking up a bite of waffle with your fork, a moan of appreciation leaving your lips.

“It does,” you confirm.

Joel turns around in the booth and flags down the waitress.

“Check, please!”

——————

After paying for dinner, Joel walks you to the parking lot, his broad palm on your low back directing you to where his truck is parked.

He’s got you pressed against the passenger door, his chest grazing yours with each breath he takes. He lifts a hand to your cheek, his thumb rubbing across your bottom lip. His gaze grows dark as you dart your tongue out, flicking it against the digit.

“Such a fuckin’ tease,” he says. Gone is the man who was mortified to find out he’d been sexting you and in his place is the man behind the screen. “You wore this little dress because you knew exactly what you wanted, isn’t that right?”

“Maybe,” you murmur. “You don’t like it?”

“Mm,” he hums, “Ain’t a matter of not likin’ it, trust me.”

His hands grip your hips, the fabric bunching in his fists as he moves a thigh between your legs. The sudden friction of his jeans, even through the barrier of your underwear, has you gasping.

“Joel,” you whimper, grinding over the muscle of his thigh. He kisses along the length of your neck, lips right over your racing pulse. “Come on, take me home.”

“You can ask more nicely than that,” he says, hands guiding the movement of your hips, forward and back, across his thigh. You moan, louder than you intended, too loud for the parking lot of a busy diner at dinner rush.

“Please, sir,” you whisper. “Please, take me home.”

“Cum on my thigh and we can leave,” he replies. “Leave a nice little wet spot on my jeans and then I’ll take you home and make you scream my name as loud as you need to.”

Joel’s lips capture your own, swallowing the curse that was ready to spill from them at his demand. His kiss is rough, demanding, his stubble scratching your skin and his tongue tangling with yours as your hips continue to rock over his leg. You dig your fingers into his hair, holding tightly to him while the knot of need in your belly tightens.

“Come on, baby,” he says when he lifts his head, lips still pressed to your neck. “Make a mess, come on.”

You go still in his hands as your orgasm washes over you, your muscles stiff as your pussy pulses desperately over his thigh. Joel pulls you in for another kiss, this one slow and sweet to bring you back to reality.

When you’ve caught your breath, he steps back, adjusting the skirt of your dress back over your thighs. He looks down at his pants and then back at you, a smirk on his handsome face. You look down, face heating with embarrassment as you notice the dark patch of denim.

“Get in the truck, baby.”

——————

You give Joel directions to your apartment, his warm hand on your thigh the whole way there. Your nerves are buzzing beneath your skin again, the effect of your first orgasm wearing off and your desire building rapidly with each mile closer to your apartment.

He parks in the visitor parking and you move to open the door, but a tan arm reaches across and tugs it shut. Confused, you watch Joel jump from the truck and jog around to the passenger side to pull open your door and hold a hand out to you.

You’re laughing as he helps you from the truck and shuts the door behind you, your giggles persisting as you lead him upstairs and his arms circle your waist while you try to unlock your door. He hustles you across the threshold, kicking the door shut behind him and flipping the deadbolt.

“Bedroom?” He asks.

“End of the hall,” you reply.

Joel pulls you along behind him, a man on a mission. Once inside your room, you flip on your bedside lamp and Joel steps in close, framing your face in his hands and giving you another kiss that has the butterflies in your tummy going wild.

His fingers are curling into the hem of your dress, dragging it up your body and breaking the kiss long enough to pull it over your head and toss it to the floor. His lips are back on yours while his hands map your curves, calloused fingers catching on soft skin and making goosebumps erupt in their wake.

“Get on the bed,” he commands. You turn, crawling onto the mattress slowly, a wiggle in your hips. You look over your shoulder at the older man and find his gaze fixed on your ass. He grins. “You remember what I said last time you teased me?”

“No. I think I need a reminder,” you tell him. He huffs, shaking his head.

“Teasin’ me and gettin’ mouthy? Think that might earn you a punishment.”

Joel palms the cheeks of your ass, pulling them apart in a rough grip that has you gasping his name. His fingers dig into the flesh, the ache of them already making your head spin.

“Five ain’t enough, but it’s all I’ve got the patience for right now,” he says. His tone changes as he asks, “You got a safe word? If I need to stop?”

“Apricots,” you say easily. He tilts his head. “It’s from a TV show. New Girl?”

“Never heard of it,” he says. “Alright, apricots it is.”

He pulls your panties down, leaving them around your thighs. His thumbs spread you apart and the vulnerability of this position, your ass in the air and everything spread for him, by him, has you feeling like you’re on fire.

“Pretty little pussy,” he murmurs. “But I already knew that. Because you’re a dirty fuckin’ girl who sent me pictures just because I told you how to cum. Ain’t that right?”

“Mhm.”

An open palm lands on your right ass cheek, hear blossoming on the spot as you gasp, lurching forward. His hands pull you towards him and he presses down between your shoulder blades, your back arching.

“Don’t move,” he commands. “That was one. You count the next one.”

Another smack across your other cheek, more sharp pain that shifts into dull ache as you mumble, “Two.”

He doles out two more in quick succession, each other making your pussy clench with need. You’re drooling into sheets, a whimpering mess as he runs his fingers through your soaked folds and lets out a deep groan.

“Baby, you’re soaked,” he says. “Fuck, one more, okay? One more and then I’ll have you wrapped around my cock.”

You nod your head, bracing for the final blow across your sensitive skin. The sting of his palm as it lands makes your eyes roll back, the line between pleasure and pain so blurry you don’t know which side you stand on.

His hands leave your hips and without the support, you slide flat to your belly. Distantly, you register the opening of your nightstand drawer and the sound of Joel rummaging through the contents, followed by the muted thump of clothes being discarded to the floor.

Joel maneuvers you to your back in the center of the bed, pulling your panties off. “You did so good, sweetheart,” he praises. You smile at him.

“Do I get a reward now, sir?” You ask.

“‘Course, baby. Good girls get what they deserve.”

His hips press between yours, his cock sliding through your wetness and catching on your clit. He positions the thick head at your slick entrance, pressing in the slightest bit. You take in the sight of him, his broad chest held over you by strong arms, the muscles of his neck tense.

Joel slides in slowly, your body accepting him gratefully. The stretch borders on painful but the fullness has you digging your nails into his back, a moan falling from your lips. It feels like ages before his hips as flush to yours and all you can feel is Joel Joel Joel.

“Fuck,” he groans, forehead dropping to yours. “Christ, you feel so fuckin’ good.”

He pulls back slightly, thrusting forward with a sharp snap of his hips. As he starts to set a rhythm, he sits up on his knees, lifting one of your legs up with a hand on the back of your thigh and pressing it to the side. The position opens you up further, letting him get impossibly deeper, and all you can do is allow him to use your body to his liking.

It’s not long before you’re screaming his name, as promised, the knot of pleasure in your core pulling tight and getting ready to snap.

“You gonna cum again for me?” Joel asks, breathing labored as his pace doesn’t falter. “Come on, baby, cum on my cock. You’re such a good fuckin’ girl, I know you can do it.”

“Joel!” You shout, that last thread snapping as your orgasm rushing through you, stars bursting behind your eyelids as they snap shut with the force of it all. Your pussy clenches around him, his hips stuttering and growing sloppy until he’s pressing in deep with a groan of your name.

He collapses on top of you, a heavy weight but not an unwelcome one as you both try to catch your breath, sweat cooling between you. After a moment, his softening cock slips from your body and he rolls to the side, gathering you to his chest.

“Holy shit,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” Joel whispers back. He sits up, leaning over the edge of the bed and grabbing his jeans, pulling his phone free.

He taps on the screen and brings it to his ear, a distant ringing audible through the speaker.

“Tommy? Yeah, everythin’s fine,” Joel says when his call connects. He takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Could you stay with Sarah tonight? Shut up,” he grumbles. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll be back in the mornin’. Thanks, brother.”

Joel hangs up and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You’re staying?” You ask.

“Yeah, baby. I ain’t finished with you yet,” he replies, pressing a flurry of kisses to your face, neck, and shoulders, sending you into a fit of giggles.

——————

1 Year Later

“Alright, great job, girls! Let’s get your snacks,” you shout as your summer league girls jog towards you from the field following their third tournament game.

The girls crowd around the cooler that Joel’s prepared, grabbing small bottles of Gatorade or water and a bag of orange slices. They lounge around the sidelines and you step up beside Joel, bumping him with your hip.

“Thanks for the snacks,” you say. He grins at you.

“‘Course. Gotta take care of my girls,” he replies. He pulls one last bag of oranges from the cooler. “And one for coach.”

“How’d I get so lucky?” You ask, looping an arm around his waist.

“What can I say? You texted the right wrong number.”

Joel Miller Masterlist

[babyblue711]

Surrender

(Modern AU) Aegon II Targaryen x Female!Reader x Aemond Targaryen - Part 2 (read Part 1 Here) Summary: Having spent the week at the Targaryen's countryside estate, you find yourself pulled into an unexpected tryst when Aemond confronts you about your mixed signals. Words: 5K

Warnings: NSFW, Sexual Content 18+, Smut, Language, Alcohol, Threesome, Lots of Sexual Shenanigans A/N: As requested by popular demand, here is Part 2! I think this was the most fun I've ever had when writing a fic. (And please, for the banner, let's pretend Ewan has one eye for Aemond's sake 😅) I hope you all enjoy! 🔥

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Various forms of tension now fill the house and you can’t help but feel responsible. There is a magnetic attraction that lingers in the air between you and Aegon, but your playful text to Aemond had clearly not been well-received; he had never bothered responding and was now resolutely ignoring you. In return, you mirrored his behavior, determined not to let it affect you.

On Sunday morning, Helaena approaches you with an enticing offer: to extend your stay for the entire week. With your laptop in tow, the prospect of working remotely from their opulent estate is exciting, especially since it means you can continue spending time with Aegon.

Luckily, neither Helaena nor Daeron knows about your hookup with him. For the rest of the week, he visits your bed each night and it is the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. He’s a generous lover, prioritizing your pleasure before his own and his attentiveness afterwards is always exceptional, although he never spends the full night with you. Mindful of Aemond’s text message, you try to tone down your lusty moans of rapture, but you still feel like he knows what’s going on regardless.

On the last full day before you are set to return to the city, you and Aegon make plans to go for another trail ride. However, after lunch he starts to complain of a stomach ache leading Aemond to step in and offer to take you riding instead. This unexpected turn of events leaves you feeling momentarily stunned, given Aemond has been doing a very good job pretending you didn’t exist up until that moment. Despite your reservations, you agree to Aemond's proposal, still feeling a little wary of his sudden change of heart. 

“You can ride on Sunfyre this time,” Aegon groans from the couch, referring to his grey gelding, as you and Aemond head out the door. 

At first you are unsure of what to expect, but soon find yourself embarking on another memorable riding adventure, only this time with Aemond. It quickly becomes apparent that he shares your love for horses and the great outdoors, if not even more passionately than his brother. You make a bit of small talk as you ride, but most of the time, the gentle plodding of your horses’ hooves and the swish of their tails are the only things that can be heard.

The day was hot and humid, though cooler in the shade of the woods along the trail. A few miles into your ride, you come across a babbling stream with crystal water and decide to stop to let the horses rest and take a much needed drink. 

“Thank you for letting me ride Vhagar this week,” you say sincerely, taking a refreshing gulp of water from your canteen, “She’s a good horse.” Aemond offers a small smile, affectionately patting his mare on the neck. 

“No problem,” he replies casually, “She seems to like you and, to be honest, she doesn’t warm up to most people. Typically bucks them off within a few minutes,” he glances up to gauge your reaction. “I figured that’s why Aegon had you take her out, so he could laugh when you fell off,” he adds nonchalantly as if he didn’t just throw Aegon under the bus. 

Your expression falters briefly, causing you to second guess your perception of Aegon if what Aemond is saying is true but you quickly regain your composure.

“Fortunately, that didn’t happen,” you manage to say as Sunfyre starts to paw, splashing water everywhere and soaking your boots. You urge him from the stream before he decides to roll in the cool water and Aemond follows on Vhagar; you swear you think you see a small, smug smile tug on the corners of his lips. 

As you head back home, the mood seems to lighten and you finally feel like you have a small breakthrough with Aemond. Unlike his brother, Aemond’s nature is more naturally reserved, but you are growing to appreciate his calm demeanor in contrast to Aegon's chaotic behavior. He isn’t as quick to laugh or make jokes either, but you manage to coax him into opening up by asking about his interests, particularly books. He eagerly shares insights into the history of the Targaryen family and their estate, keeping the conversation lively until you reach the barn.

You hand Sunfyre off to the attending groom once more, feeling hot and sticky from your ride, eager to get back to the house to take a cool shower. Aemond falls into step beside you. 

“So you and Hel are headed back to the city tomorrow?” Aemond inquires casually.

“Yeah we are, have to get back to the grind,” you say with a sigh, a note of reluctance in your tone. The week spent away from the city, immersed in fresh air and nature, had been incredibly rejuvenating and you weren’t ready to leave just yet. Fortunately, Helaena is also your flatmate, and the prospect of returning to hectic city life isn’t as daunting when you have a familiar companion by your side.

“What are your plans?” you ask him in return, aware of his involvement in the family business and his regular trips to the city too. 

“I have a flight to catch to New York tomorrow. Work trip. It’s always hard to leave Vhagar…” he trails off with a slight hedge to his voice and you sense he may have more to share, but something seems to be holding him back. 

“Hmm,” you murmur noncommittally, letting the moment ride out, feeling if you were patient, he would speak. It works a little too well. He takes a deep breath before he begins. 

“That text you sent a few days back…” he starts and your heart instantly leaps. Oh god, here we go, you think, now deeply regretting how shameless you had behaved in the moment.

“Did you mean it?” he asks curiously, catching you completely off guard. You had thought he was about to scold you and you certainly didn’t expect him to be inquisitive instead. Your previous words seem to swim in your mind: [Join us next time, then?]  

Did he think you had been serious? You really had only meant it to tease. Regret bubbles in your stomach. 

“I still hear you every night,” he says quietly, gently, not like a reprimand at all, and you continue to feel more unsettled with each passing moment. You blush, embarrassed that you were having this conversation in broad daylight with Aemond of all people.

“I’m sorry, Aemond, truly, I…I tried to be more quiet…” you stammer, trailing off as he takes you by the arm, turning you to stop and face him. You stare up into his crystal blue eye, so much lighter than his brother’s, noticing how much taller he is than Aegon too. Up close, his beauty is so breathtaking, the leather eyepatch that covers his left eye only serves to complement his perfect appearance and intrigue you further. Aemond never spoke about what happened to his eye and you were too intimidated to ever ask. 

“It’s not that,” he cuts you off abruptly. “Your offer, did you mean it?” he asks more insistently and you feel like you could shrink under the intensity of his stare. Did you really want to have a threesome with him and Aegon? Cowardly, you opt to take the easy way out.

“It would be up to Aegon, I suppose,” you manage to choke out, feeling confident that Aegon would never agree. The way he possessively devours your body, like he is trying to consume your very being when you are together makes you think he isn’t the type to share.

Aemond nods, seeming satisfied with that answer as he abruptly resumes walking back to the house and you can barely keep up with his long strides. What the hell was that about? 

Feeling refreshed from your cold shower, you open your bathroom door, still wrapped in only a towel to see Aegon sprawled across your bed, giving you a calculated stare. Your heart skips a beat at his unexpected presence in your bedroom and he has a look in his eye you don’t think you’ve seen before. 

“So,” he says lightly and gets right to the point, “You want to have a threesome with Aemond?” 

You gape like a fish out of water as you backtrack. “I - I didn’t say that. Aemond mentioned it to me on the way back to the house,” you mumble, trying not to feel like you’re in trouble.

“Oh really?” he raises an eyebrow, glancing down at his phone, scrolling as if he’s looking for something, “What’s this then?” 

He holds out his phone and shows you a screenshot of the message you had sent to Aemond earlier in the week, inviting him to join you and Aegon. Aemond clearly has shown Aegon proof of your “offer”, the traitor. Clearly, your lighthearted jest has taken an unexpected turn and signals have been crossed between these two brothers. 

Aegon cannot contain a look of triumph as your guilty eyes flash back to his face. Before you can explain more thoroughly he smirks, “I didn’t know you were also into my brother…”

“Aegon, it was just a joke, I was teasing him,” you try to clarify your intentions and prove you aren’t trying to hide anything, now thoroughly wishing you had been this direct with Aemond too. You didn’t foresee it coming back to haunt you like this. 

“Really? Because that’s not what Aemond said,” Aegon counters, “So do you want to? It would be hot watching my brother fuck you,” he adds provocatively and your breath catches in your chest at his words. 

So many emotions whirl through your mind in an instant. Shock. Guilt. Bewilderment. Confusion. Hurt that he would give you up so easily to another man. Excitement. Lust. Desire. Simultaneously, another thought tugs at your heart: a mixture of determination and defiance. You had been so sure that Aegon would be the one to tell Aemond ‘no’ and you were starting to question his attachment to you, if indeed there had been one at all. If he was so willing to share you with someone else, perhaps you should make him regret this decision. The thought of making Aegon insanely jealous ignites a spark of mischief within your chest.

“Fine,” you say coolly, lifting your chin. “I’d love to fuck your brother,” you taunt seductively, pretending not to care more deeply about Aegon than you do and deliberately trying to push his buttons, but Aegon only gives you a devilish grin. 

“Brilliant. I’ll tell him then,” and with that, he springs off your bed, his earlier stomach ache seemingly forgotten, and bounds out the door in search of Aemond. 

You were a nervous wreck the whole rest of the day. What had you just agreed to? You curse your need for revenge on Aegon. 

That evening, you opt to quietly observe Aemond, feeling a need to familiarize yourself with the person that you would soon be sleeping with. While Aegon could be abundantly charming when he wanted to be, Aemond was simply grace incarnate. You pay particular attention to his interactions with each sibling: he is tolerant of Aegon’s antics, patient with the youthfulness of his younger brother, Daeron, and generously kind to his sister, listening to her discussions about various bugs with genuine interest, as if her words are the most interesting thing in the world. Coupled with his ethereal beauty, you start to question that Aemond might actually be the better of the two brothers. Boyfriend material flashes through your mind. 

At last, you bid the group goodnight for the evening and retire to your room. As soon as you shut your door, you sprint to the bathroom, rushing to brush your teeth, apply more deodorant and fix your hair, trying to make yourself as presentable as possible for perfect, proper Aemond. You aren’t sure why you were doing this; why do you care what Aemond thinks of you so much?

Finished with your “prep”, you put on your usual pajamas, wishing you had brought something a little sexier than an oversized t-shirt and shorts and sit on your bed to wait. Soon a soft knock comes from your door and you know instantly it’s Aemond. Aegon never knocks.

“Come in!” you manage to squeak out, voice unusually high, feeling nervous. Aemond enters, looking entirely unruffled, carrying something behind his back. He approaches the bed and reveals his surprise, holding out an expensive bottle of champagne. 

“I figured there’s no hurry,” he remarks casually with a shrug as he opens the bottle and takes a gulp, handing it to you. Feeling a bit unconventional drinking expensive champagne straight from the bottle, you take a sip, enjoying the tangy liquid that runs cool down your throat. 

You both sit in the middle of your large bed facing each other, talking softly while taking turns swigging from the bottle. Soon, you find yourself relaxing and enjoying his company, forgetting that Aegon was supposed to be joining you. You didn’t even wonder where he was. 

When the bottle is empty, you start to feel properly tipsy as Aemond lays a large, warm hand on your leg. You stiffen instantly, unable to help yourself, glancing up into his intense, one-eyed stare.

“I just want to ask, one more time, if you’re sure you want to do this,” he says with soft sincerity. 

This is it. Your way out. You didn’t have to sleep with Aemond. However, you were finding yourself more and more drawn to him as you discovered his admirable traits. You believed deep down that Aemond was genuinely kind, one of those "nice guys," so to speak. Moreover, defiance still pounds in your heart at the thought of making Aegon jealous, if he decided to show up at this point.

“Yeah, I want to Aemond, truly,” you respond genuinely, placing your hand overtop of his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He nods and seems to relax, his sensuous mouth curling into a true smile.

“Should we start without him?” you whisper, alluding to Aegon. 

“Yeah, fuck him, I’m not waiting,” Aemond replies boldly before grabbing you by the ankle and pulling you across the bed so you’re right next to him. You slide easily on the soft satin comforter and giggle in delight. Aemond’s lips meet yours and you sigh into his mouth as you melt into him immediately. 

Aemond's kiss ignites a fire within you; while you considered Aegon a skilled kisser, a few moments with Aemond had you wondering who was better. His kiss is effortless, your lips fitting together flawlessly, his gentle tongue playfully exploring your mouth, as you take turns sucking on each other’s bottom lip. You moan softly as you instinctively grasp his hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you. Already you can feel your core getting slick with desire and an ache forming at the apex of your thighs.

Aemond maneuvers you to lay on your back and settles overtop of you, lightly pressing you under his weight and you surrender once more to a new man, but this one you think might be more worthy than the last. Still clothed, you are fully immersed in battling his tongue when you hear a low whistle.

“You fuckers started without me,” Aegon growls, low and deep, and you jump, startled since you hadn’t heard him come in. You break the kiss with Aemond, turning to look at Aegon standing beside the bed, seeming completely unfazed seeing his younger brother on top of the girl he’s been fucking all week. Aemond ignores him completely as he kisses your exposed neck, pretending like there’s been no interruption. You notice Aegon is holding his own bottle of champagne and a bag of popcorn, now grinning like a barn cat that has just caught the biggest mouse; he moves to sit in the corner and waves his hand for you to continue. 

You roll your eyes and return your attention to Aemond, who is now sucking a hickey onto your collarbone. You decide to get things moving before you lose your nerve now that you have an audience. You slide Aemond's shirt off, taking a moment to appreciate the contours of his fit physique by tracing your fingers across his chest and along the defined muscles of his back. It's almost like a choreographed dance as you and Aemond smoothly help each other out of your clothes, moving with such synchronized ease that it feels like you're perfectly attuned to each other.

As you remove his shorts, his cock springs free, large and heavy against his thigh. Taking him in hand, you give him a few experimental pumps, making him grunt appreciatively; you find yourself absentmindedly wondering who is bigger, the Targaryen men are clearly blessed in this particular department. 

You try to ignore the sounds of Aegon chewing popcorn as you and Aemond settle back onto the bed, completely unclothed now. Aemond doesn’t seem to mind being naked in front of his brother and you take his lead as your heart flutters nervously, still mindful of having a witness. He bites down onto the fleshy part of your breast, sucking with enthusiasm and you don’t even care about the mark you know it’ll leave. He moves on and takes one of your nipples into his mouth next, rolling the other between his fingers as he works his way down your body, finally settling between your thighs and licking your soaked pussy like a lollipop; you both groan with pleasure. You spread your legs wide for him and start to knead your own breasts, putting your body on display for Aegon, feigning more confidence than you felt in the moment. You glance over and see him watching you and Aemond hungrily. 

Aemond’s lips lock around your bud and he sucks harshly causing you to buck your hips into his face and cry aloud, your breath picking up as pleasure courses like electricity through your body. You feel him slip a finger inside of you followed by another and he crooks them against your sweet spot all while continuing to suck on your bud like he is trying to slurp the thickest milkshake. 

It’s not long before your thighs are shaking around his head as you wail in ecstasy, your orgasm ripping through your core, pussy clenching tightly down onto Aemond’s fingers. You no longer notice Aegon’s presence and you secretly hope he’s burning with jealousy at the way Aemond is unraveling you thoroughly. Aegon clears this throat as you come down from your high and return to your senses.

“I want her on top, Aemond,” he commands from the dark corner of the room. You think Aemond will refuse as he isn’t the type that usually takes orders, and especially not from Aegon, but he lays on his back and positions you to hover above him. Achingly slow, still sensitive from your climax, you spear yourself on his hard, thick cock, sinking inch by delicious inch, savoring the stretch of your soft velvet walls. You breathe through your nose as you try to relax and welcome Aemond into your body, joining as one.

You both groan in unison when you finally sit flush against him, his cock buried deep. He gives you a moment to adjust and lets you set the pace. Knowing Aegon is seated behind you, you lean forward slightly, bracing your hands against Aemond’s chest, arching your back as you ride his cock, letting Aegon get the best view of Aemond’s thick length sliding in and out of your tight pussy, no longer feeling insecure about being watched. In this position, your sensitive bud rubs consistently against Aemond’s pubic bone and you can already feel another orgasm mounting deep in your belly. You toss your hair and moan loudly in pleasure, uttering filthy words to Aemond, knowing full well Aegon can hear you too. You want to leave him without any doubt just how much you are enjoying his brother. 

Beneath you, Aemond looks like a fallen angel. His one eye is hooded and dark with lust, the angles of his exquisite face are sharp in the low light, his sensual lips are parted slightly as he pants softly while you move up and down on his length. His luminous blonde hair is splay out on the bed, creating a sort of halo around his head.  You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything more beautiful in your life.

Spurred on by your passionate words of lust, Aemond grasps your hips and picks up the pace, fingers digging into the soft flesh and you hope for bruises. Taking control, he fucks up into you from below, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. You start mumbling nonstop again, like you always do when you’re about to cum.

“Yeah? You gonna cum on my cock, sweet girl?” Aemond says in a low growl as he watches your tits bounce above him. 

“A-Aemond, don’t stop,” is all you can manage as your peak crashes over you with the force of a hurricane and Aemond groans as your pussy tightens like a vice around him. He rides out your climax, sustaining your pleasure as you soar into oblivion. Finally, feeling like jelly, you topple off of Aemond and onto the soft bed, breathing heavily and trying to recover from your second mind-blowing orgasm. 

“My turn,” suddenly, Aegon stands on the edge of the bed, totally naked and stroking his hard, thick cock. Now that the two are visually out for comparison, you think Aemond’s might be a tad longer, but they are both just as thick.

Your brain feels fuzzy, swirling with endorphins from the rush of your climax. Despite your haze, excitement pulses through your chest when you see that Aegon has finally come to play, hoping he got tired of watching Aemond fuck you so thoroughly. Although being with two men at once is entirely new territory, you trust them completely to take care of you properly and not abuse their positions of power. With a new sense of confidence, adrenaline surges through your veins and you decide to take charge.

“Lay on the bed,” you direct at Aegon and he obeys you instantly, climbing onto the bed and laying his head on your pillow. You crawl over to him, swaying your hips seductively and meeting his dark blue gaze.

“So, did you enjoy watching that?” you purr innocently while taking his cock in your hand and squeezing. 

“More than you know,” he manages to respond before you lower your head and take him in your mouth. Maintaining eye contact with him, you put on a bit of a show as your tongue teases the sensitive tip.

Realizing Aemond is watching from afar, you look over your shoulder at him while continuing to pump Aegon with your other hand. You consider him for a moment, impressed with his endurance as he still hasn’t cum himself, despite riding out your orgasm while buried deep within your body. 

“Aemond, I need you too,” you whine, tossing your hair over your shoulder and bringing your ass in the air, giving him a pointed look; his lips lift in a devilish smirk. 

As Aemond comes to kneel behind you, there is a kinetic sort of energy that passes between the brothers as their eyes meet and you feel a shift as the energy in the room suddenly becomes charged. The hair stands up on the back of your neck and you aren’t entirely sure why; all you know is that you suddenly feel like a lamb caught between two apex predators. Undaunted, the thought makes you chuckle; Aemond has already begun to pick you apart with absurd precision and you feel ready for more. 

You take Aegon into your mouth again as you feel Aemond spread your ass cheeks apart with a firm grip, taking a moment to admire the view before re-entering you from behind, moving slowly to help you adjust to this new angle. You moan in pleasure as Aemond’s cock hits your sweet spot perfectly in this position. Aegon grunts as your moans reverberate around his dick and you hear him whisper “yeah, that’s it,” as your head bobs along his thick length. With one hand wrapped around the rest of Aegon’s girth that you can’t fit into your mouth, the other grips his thigh, trying to hold yourself steady as Aemond’s hips snap roughly into your backside. 

“She really does have the most perfect cunt, brother,” Aemond rumbles, grunting in appreciation as he watches his fat cock slide in and out of you, glistening with your arousal. “You were right.”

“I told you she could be our perfect little slut,” Aegon groans in agreement and gives you a dark smile. You try to ignore the fact that they are talking about you like you aren’t even there. Despite your senses being fully enveloped in a primal sort of lust, you feel a small prick of unease. How much did they discuss about you before today? Have they planned this all along?

You hardly have time to consider further before Aegon takes you by the hair and earnestly starts to fuck your mouth, spit dribbling down your chin as he thrusts in and out. You hollow out your cheeks and try your best to take him, choking at times as his cock touches the back of your throat, all while Aemond continues a steady pace fucking your pussy from behind. Tears prick your eyes and Aegon wipes them away with his thumb, murmuring “good girl” softly and encouraging you to keep going. You watch as his abs contract in pleasure as your tongue swirls around the sensitive tip; you find it becoming more difficult to focus on Aegon as Aemond brings his hand around and starts to play with your bud, rubbing tight, fast circles. Your breath is caught in your chest and you let out a sultry moan. 

For a moment, all that can be heard is heavy breathing, grunts of pleasure, skin slapping erotically, and a juicy sucking noise from your mouth as your orgy progresses. With Aemond’s expert attention on your bud, your walls start to flutter again and you redouble your efforts to suck off Aegon, determined that you both should cum at the same time; his breathing is becoming labored and you know he’s close. Within a few more moments, the three of you climax together in unison; Aegon grunts as his girth pulses in your hand, shooting his seed down your throat just as Aemond’s cock pumps his into your pussy, emptying deep inside you. He gives your ass a hard slap and you wail once more as mind numbing pleasure courses through your belly as your pussy milks Aemond dry.

Swallowing your mouthful, you collapse, exhausted, onto the bed next to Aegon, completely worn out by your third orgasm. Aegon pants softly beside you and Aemond plops down on your other side, the only one to still seem composed despite the sheen of sweat on his chest from his own exertion. 

The next few minutes are spent in comfortable silence as your breathing returns to normal. Aegon rolls to his side and captures your lips between his own. You think he’s just giving you a sweet sort of kiss as a “thank you” for a great time, until he takes your leg and swings it over his hip, reaching down and playing with your sensitive bud. You buck you hips away from his hand and whine pathetically, telling him without words that you are almost too sensitive to touch at this point. He shushes you gently and you feel him reach down to your entrance and gather Aemond’s spend that’s leaking from your pussy, bringing it up and circling your bud with a featherlight touch.

You feel Aemond move until he’s spooning you from behind, trapping you. He brushes your hair to the side as he starts to pepper your neck and shoulder with kisses while his large warm hand caresses your back, moving down to squeeze the ample flesh of your ass. Despite your exhaustion, you feel yourself getting aroused again at their attention. Aegon’s skin is burning as you lay facing him, chest to chest, and Aemond is just as hot against your backside. You feel caught between two flames, like you could catch fire entwined around the brothers.

Aegon continues to kiss you slowly, circling your bud, your leg still hooked over his hip when you feel another set of digits come to play at the entrance of your pussy. You flinch slightly, but Aemond doesn’t enter you digitally, instead seeming to gather more fluid on his fingertips. Without warning, you jump when you feel him spreading his spend on your asshole. Aemond hushes you sweetly, kissing right below your ear, as he starts to push ever so gently on your puckered hole. 

“Come now,” Aegon whispers against your lips, “You didn’t really think we would be done with you already, did you?” His hand moves up to tightly grip your thigh around his hip, holding you in place as Aemond slowly starts inserting a digit into your ass, causing you to moan and arch your back, unfamiliar with this new intrusion.

“Hmm,” Aemond hums appreciatively, nibbling on your earlobe as Aegon watches your face. The pressure is mounting as Aemond pushes his thumb into your ass and realization dawns that they are far from finished with you. They aren’t going to stop until every last bit of you is sore from stretching around their thick cocks repeatedly; their intention to possess you both at the same time becomes abundantly clear as Aemond works to open your tight puckered hole and you know they’ll continue to cover your body in bite marks, hickeys, and bruises, effectively marking you as their own. They haven’t even begun to truly consume you yet. 

“Yes, sweet girl,” says Aemond, an authoritative edge to his tone, “We’re just getting started.”

The story continues in Part 3

Tags: @rhaenyslay, @elizarbell, @aemondsscar, @peonamay, @cyeco13, @quinnquinn317, @multyfangirl, @myfandomprompts, @thekinslayed, @pandemonium105, @fan-goddess, @vencuyot

[lelengerine]

bnd taesan + cheers to youth by svt!! ><

͙͘͡★ echoes of you

song prompt. “we both got pressured into joining the same ridiculous club at the campus fair, and now we’re stuck planning an event neither of us signed up for.”

pairing. club mate!taesan x reader

tags. college au, one sided pining (or is it??), gender neutral reader, mostly fluff only for this one, lmk if i missed anything hehe

wc. 0.9k words

notes. aaaa this is my first time writing for bonedo >0< a big thank u to anonie lovie pie (mwa mwa) for giving me the opportunity to swoon over taesan while creating this <3 i hope u enjoy reading and happy cb dayy (stream i feel good!!!) 🥺 likes, reblogs, and feedback are very much welcome!

꒰ m.list | event m.list ꒱

the clubroom had long since emptied of sound. outside, dusk had slipped its way across the windows, smudging the sky in shades of violet and rust. golden light flickered at the edges, curling around scattered paper lanterns like a last breath before evening settled in.

the room was lived-in—not messy, exactly, but softened by hours of motion. poster paint dried in streaks along the tables. a brush sat forgotten in a jar of murky water, petals of torn masking tape scattered like confetti near the base of a drying banner. the air smelled faintly of paper, sweat, and lemon soda.

taesan sat on the floor, legs folded beneath him, fingers knotted around the wires of a stubborn string of lights. his back ached, his hands were stained with paint and dust, but he didn’t mind it, not when you were still here, sitting just across from him, your eyes half-lidded with fatigue, hair a little messier than it was that morning. you weren’t even talking anymore—just resting in the hush between things, letting the silence stretch. 

it wasn’t awkward. if anything, it felt like something sacred, the kind of quiet that didn’t ask to be filled. he found himself glancing at you more than the lights. noticing the way your shoulder curved as you leaned back, the soft concentration in your brow even when you weren’t doing anything at all.

he didn’t mean to notice, not at first, but somewhere between the spilled paint and your offhanded jokes, he started looking forward to this part of the day—when most people had left, and it was just you and him and whatever tasks you hadn’t finished. and lately, it had started to settle into him—this feeling he didn’t know what to name. something soft, but persistent.

“do you need help–” you offered as your eyes watched him, voice light in the hush.

“no,” he replied without looking up, but his tone wasn’t dismissive in the slightest. “it’s simply become a matter of my pride now.”

you smiled into your shoulder, stifling a laugh from escaping you. “that’s what you said fifteen minutes ago.”

“yeah,” he muttered, a strand slipping between his fingers, “but now i’m emotionally invested.”

that gained him a quiet snort from your end, the kind of sound that didn’t really fill a room but stayed close, hovering between you like a shared secret.

the fairy lights eventually gave in—a sudden unraveling, easy after hours of being impossible. he held them up in triumph, pretending it mattered more than it did, because he didn’t want to admit he just liked the way you looked at him when he was focused. like he was doing something worth watching. 

“what are you looking at me for?” you muse, raising a brow at the boy. “want a prize or something?”

“please, since when did we have the budget for that?” he retorts back in the same manner, pushing himself off the ground to plug in the lights.

the bulbs blinked to life one by one—soft pinks, honey gold, a deep, dreamlike blue. the room transformed in seconds, colors brushing over your features like watercolor bleeding across paper. and he just… stared. not in an obvious way, or at least he hoped not, but he let himself look, just for a moment. just long enough to feel something tighten low in his chest.

he blinked away too fast. focused back on the wires in his lap, pretending like his heart hadn’t stuttered.

the room settled again, quiet and warm and low-lit. you shifted slightly, arms hugging your knees now, and he could sense the sleep behind your eyes. he wondered if you were waiting for him to say something. he wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say—or if he even had the right to want anything at all.

still, the words left his mouth before he could think them through. “are you walking back alone?”

you glanced over, a flicker of surprise glazing your features. “yeah. why?”

“i could walk you.” it came out more casual than he expected. almost steady. but he knew it wasn’t casual. not really. you tilted your head, your face half-shadowed by a drifting paper lantern. “that’s sweet. but you don’t have to. you’ll just get back late.”

he opened his mouth—to insist, maybe, or just to stall. but your tone was final in that quiet, kind way you always spoke when you were protecting someone else’s time instead of your own.

so he nodded. too quickly for that matter. “right. okay. yeah.”

you stood, brushing off your jeans, swinging your bag over your shoulder with the ease of someone used to moving on. “i’ll see you tomorrow?”

he looked at you then, really looked. the light hit the edge of your cheek. he wished he had something more interesting to say than yeah, but his mind spoke before he thought about responding with something else. “yeah. i’ll be here.”

you offered a smile in response—small, honest—and stepped into the hallway with the turn of your heel. 

the door clicked shut behind you and he stayed sitting, the wire still wound around his fingers, the room still aglow with borrowed light. everything felt oddly suspended, like something had almost happened but didn’t. or maybe he just imagined it—that slight shift in the air when your eyes lingered on his face a second too long.

he let out a shaky breath. rubbed the back of his neck. the warmth in his chest hadn’t faded. if anything, it had settled deeper.

maybe he’d walk you next time. maybe he’d ask again. maybe.

but for now, the lights were still on, and your laughter still echoed in the corners of the room, and that was enough.

[scary-grace]

if my heart was a house (chapter 3) - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

It's been nineteen years since Tomura was sentenced to death, and you've built a life in the space he left behind, braced each day for the worst. You're prepared for everything - the questions your daughter asks, the memories that sting a little more in the winter, the specter of the news you've been afraid of for years. But of all the things life's thrown your way, it's the one you haven't dared to hope for might be the one thing you can't handle. (cross-posted to Ao3) The prequel can be found here: what I can't remember now written for @pixelcafe-network's Challenge Friday event! Banner/divider by @cafekitsune extra-special thanks this time to @shigarakislaughter for the emergency beta-read!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

It’s two am, and you gave up on the idea of sleeping well before midnight. Midoriya Izuku apparently wasn’t planning to sleep at all. When you called around eleven, hoping he’d be asleep and you’d have until morning to brace yourself, he picked up the phone, sounding just as chipper as he does in every one of his voicemails. And he’s a talker. You’ve been on the phone since eleven, and you aren’t sorry about it. There’s a lot you need to catch up on. And you’re not the only one. Spinner’s on the line, too.

Spinner was Tomura’s best friend before, and Spinner’s pissed at you. You can tell, and part of you just wants to poke the bear and end the suspense about why. But you want to hear what Midoriya has to say even more, and Midoriya is a seemingly endless fount of information about the state of the death penalty and life in prison. You avoided learning very much about this during the trial. You were trying to hold onto hope, and it already wasn’t working very well. Most of what Midoriya says is news to you. You’re taking notes.

It’s only once he’s given you and Spinner a thorough background in the whole thing that he starts in about Tomura’s case in particular. “What’s interesting about Shigaraki’s case — the thing that jumped out at me first — is the life sentence. The court imposed the death penalty for six of the murders, but tacked on a life imprisonment for the seventh. It got lost in the shuffle of the death penalty thing —”

“Yeah, I never heard about that,” Spinner says. “Did you?”

“I did, but it didn’t mean anything to me,” you say. “It was all just awful. It all meant he’d never be free again.”

“I hear you. But it meant something for sure,” Midoriya says eagerly. “The victim in the life-sentence case was Shigaraki’s biological father.”

You curse. You can’t stop yourself, and Spinner’s voice takes on a note of urgency. “What was that? What do you mean?”

“His dad was –” You hated him when you first heard about him. Now that you’re a parent, you hate him even more, and your limbs start to hum with fury, such that you have to get up and walk it off. “His dad’s the reason Tomura ended up with his adoptive father. He hurt Tomura. I don’t know everything, but it was bad enough that they took Tomura away from the family.”

“So there were mitigating factors,” Spinner says suddenly. “They knew that at the trial?”

“Yes. I dug up a psych evaluation from after Shigaraki was removed from his biological parents’ care, and it had PTSD written all over it. Literally.” Midoriya pauses for breath, then launches back in. “And there’s no evidence that his adoptive father ever pursued treatment for him. Which is — we’ll get into that in a second. Anyway, the fact that the court recognized a mitigating factor in one of the cases signaled to me that there might be room for movement on the death sentence. If I could prove that the same mitigation factor existed across all the murders.”

“We tried that the first time around,” you say. “It didn’t work.”

You remember how dismissive the defense attorney was to you, how it was clear he’d already written Tomura off, how all the money you and Spinner and the others raised wasn’t enough to hire someone who cared. “I heard things have changed a little bit,” Spinner says. “Not a lot, but — Twice counsels kids who are in the system, and he says that they look at that stuff in juvenile sentencing.”

“It’s spilled into adult sentencing as well. The older generation of judges and prosecutors is retiring and the newer ones aren’t as hard-line,” Midoriya adds. “I felt pretty hopeful for at least getting the death penalty knocked down to life for Shigaraki. But once I started looking at the old trial, it was a mess. There was a lot of reason to doubt that Shigaraki actually knew what he was doing at the time of the murders — and when I pulled the confession out of the picture –”

“You can’t do that.”

“His interrogators got indicted two years ago for drugging people who didn’t confess and asking them again under the influence. Yes I can,” Midoriya says. You feel like you’re going to be sick. So much for pacing. You sit down hard. “Once I took the confession off the table, the situation changed a lot. Our legal system, regardless of what the codes say, starts from the presumption that the accused is guilty. I looked at the evidence again, this time based on the presumption that Shigaraki was innocent.”

It’s quiet for a second. You can’t take the suspense. “And?”

“Shigaraki was definitely present when the murders took place,” Midoriya says, “but it’s likely that the only one he took part in was his biological father’s. And it’s not clear that he would have done anything if he hadn’t been under the influence.”

“He was drinking?” Spinner repeats, bewildered. “He’s a lightweight. He’d start throwing up way before –”

“Not alcohol. GHB. That’s –”

“The date rape drug,” you say. Your voice sounds like it’s coming from miles away. “That was twenty-five years ago. How –”

“The same night the murders occurred, Shigaraki’s adoptive father took him to the emergency department, claiming that he’d been drinking. I pulled the records, which included a blood test that was taken at the time. Negative for alcohol, positive for GHB.” Midoriya sounds a little sickened, too. You squeeze your eyes shut. “So Shigaraki’s dad was with him the night of the murders. Shigaraki’s dad took him to the ER due to intoxication on a substance most people don’t use recreationally, but a lot of people use for — you know. And Shigaraki’s dad provided almost all the evidence against him. The state’s case would have fallen apart without it.”

You don’t even know what to say. You should shut up. Instead: “Tomura never got treatment for his mental health stuff. Every time I thought I’d talked him into it, his dad would talk him right back out again.”

“Because he wanted Shigaraki to be unstable,” Spinner says, and swears. “He fucking framed him.”

“Why?” you ask hopelessly. “What would even be the point –”

“I’ve got theories. But that’s not on me to do,” Midoriya says. “One of my classmates from law school is still a prosecutor, and he’s already arrested Shigaraki’s adoptive father. My concern is with Shigaraki, and what’s going to happen when he’s released.”

“We’ve got him,” Spinner says at once. “We can help him get back on his feet. Whatever he needs. We all have money.”

You don’t have very much money, but you want to help, too. You have to help. You have to see him again. “I can –”

“No, you can’t.” Spinner cuts you off, and does it with more venom than he used on Tomura’s apparent psychopath of an adoptive parent. “I don’t even know why you called. You don’t get to care about this any more. You fucking ran!”

“Hey,” Midoriya cautions. “That’s kind of aggressive –”

“I don’t give a shit. He’s finally started writing letters again, and you know who he asks about in every letter? You,” Spinner spits, and your chest deforms from the weight of your guilt. “What the fuck are we supposed to tell him? Sorry, Shigaraki — your girlfriend dropped off the face of the earth and none of us have heard from her in nineteen years? We thought you were dead. Then Midoriya comes up with your fucking phone number –”

“How did you get my number?”

“Uh –”

Spinner cuts Midoriya off before he can answer. “You should have been here with us, fighting for him. You gave up. Why are you even here? Why don’t you go back to living under a rock and let the people who actually love him –”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you snap. “I didn’t give up. You have no idea what it was like for me, during the trial — everything –”

“Yeah, you had it so hard.” Spinner’s voice is heavy with disdain. “We weren’t having a great time, either. You know what helped? Staying together. You weren’t just his girlfriend. You were our friend, too. You dropped us all like we didn’t matter and ran off when it got hard.”

“Would you shut your mouth? You have no idea how complicated it got –”

“It’s not complicated at all,” Spinner shoots back. “You dropped us and ran away to the countryside to have your perfect little life –”

Your composure breaks, and for once, you don’t try to keep it together. “Fuck you, Spinner! If you would listen to me for two fucking seconds –”

“Mom?” Chihiro’s bedroom door creaks open, and you freeze. “What’s going on?”

The sound of her voice is all it takes to bring you back to earth. To notice how fast your heart is racing, to notice cold sweat dripping down your spine. “I’m just on the phone. I’m sorry it got loud. Go back to bed.”

You stumble through the explanation, but it doesn’t warn Chihiro off. She comes closer. Spinner must have choked on his own spit, because he’s coughing too hard to respond. At first. “Of course you got married and had a kid. How long did it take you to hook up with some loser and forget all about –”

Chihiro reaches over and presses the video call button, then turns the camera towards herself the instant Spinner and Midoriya both accept. “My mom didn’t hook up with anybody,” she says. “Shut up.”

There’s a clatter on the other end of the line as Spinner drops his phone in shock. Midoriya manages to keep his composure a little better. “Hi,” he says. “What’s your name?”

Your daughter introduces herself warily, and shares her age when Midoriya asks. “Why do you want to know?”

“Once — well, we’ve already filed a lawsuit against the government for violating death row inmates’ human rights, and Shigaraki is one of several plaintiffs. And once he’s released, we’re going after them for wrongful imprisonment.” Midoriya’s writing something down. “Part of the lawsuit is proving the negative impact of the government’s treatment of Shigaraki, and this will help. His wrongful imprisonment didn’t just hurt him, it kept you from having a relationship with your dad. He is her dad, right?”

That one’s for you. “Yeah,” you manage. “I didn’t find out I was pregnant until after the sentencing.”

“We’ll need to do paternity testing to confirm, but –”

“They’ll know.” Spinner’s phone is shaking, and you can see the shock on his face. “You look just like him.”

“You look like an asshole,” Chihiro says, and you take your phone back in a hurry, aware that you should be disappointed and sort of proud instead. Chihiro sits down next to you on the couch. “Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m —” Spinner coughs, looks away. His eyes look blurry. “I’m one of your dad’s friends. Spinner. Sorry, I just — you’re kind of a jump-scare. So’s he.”

For somebody with such a striking appearance, Tomura was pretty sneaky. He didn’t scare people on purpose, but he had no problem startling them a bit. You wonder if he’s still like that. How much will have changed since the last time you saw him. “My mom didn’t hook up with anybody,” Chihiro says. “I’ve never even seen her date. She gets sad every winter because it reminds her of him and she definitely still misses him –”

“Chihiro!” You cut her off, but it’s way too late, and Spinner actually looks relieved. You’re — what? Mortified. Sad. Ashamed. Angry. “Stop making that face, Spinner. If you’d let me finish talking, I would have told you –”

“You were still wrong to leave. But I get why you thought you had to,” Spinner cuts you off. “This is good. I’ll tell everybody so they stop putting together a hit squad, and Shigaraki –”

“No,” you say. Spinner, Midoriya, and Chihiro all jump. “Neither of you can tell anyone, especially not Tomura. It has to be me.”

“That’s bullshit. She’s Shigaraki’s kid, too.”

“My name is Chihiro,” your daughter says. “I’m eighteen. I’m not a kid.”

“Okay,” Spinner says after a second. “Yeah. He still has a right to know.”

“And he should hear it from us,” you say. You put your arm around Chihiro’s shoulders. “Not from you. And not right away.”

Spinner argues, but Midoriya breaks in over him. “I agree,” he says. “A prison sentence like his does things to people. I don’t know what he was like with surprises before, but a surprise this big, the instant he’s released — it’s a really bad idea. That kind of psychological shock can hurt somebody. We want his transition back to civilian life to be as smooth and quiet as possible.”

“He’s going to keep asking about you,” Spinner says to you. “You have to say something.”

You think Spinner’s right. What are you supposed to say, though? How can you say anything without saying the two of you have a daughter together? “If he’s going to stay with you at first, send me your address, Spinner. I’ll send a letter for him.”

“If you want it to get here before he does, you’d better mail it tomorrow,” Spinner says. Chihiro stiffens in her seat next to you. “Midoriya, when’s he getting released?”

“Sometime within the next three weeks. Our PR department has a few editorials lined up to hurry things along,” Midoriya says. He grimaces. “Sorry about the article yesterday. We didn’t sign off on that.”

“The Kizuki one?” Spinner looks disgusted. “She’d better quit mouthing off. Toga’s this close to doxxing her.”

“Don’t tell me things like that,” Midoriya says. “We’re working on it, I promise. PR and the legal stuff is my job. Your job — you two, not Chihiro — is to make sure Shigaraki has a soft landing. As soft as it can be, anyway. This is going to be hard on all of you for a little while.”

“No shit,” Spinner mumbles. He yawns. “I’m supposed to do a book signing tomorrow –”

“I have work. And Chihiro has school.”

“Get some sleep,” Midoriya advises. “And you two — work it out. Please. You trying to kill each other won’t help Shigaraki at all.”

He says goodnight and hangs up, but Spinner stays on the call a little longer. “Hey. Uh, Chihiro — can I talk to your mom for a second? Alone?”

“Are you going to be an asshole?” Chihiro asks around a yawn of her own. Spinner shakes his head, and Chihiro looks to you. “If he starts being an asshole again, just hang up.”

You nod and kiss her forehead before she heads back to her room. Once her door shuts, you make eye contact with the camera. “Now what?”

“Look, I shouldn’t have blown up,” Spinner says. “And you shouldn’t have run.”

“I shouldn’t have done a lot of things,” you say. “Why are we still talking? You said you had work in the morning.”

“I do. But this is important.” Spinner looks as serious as you’ve ever seen him. “When you write Shigaraki this letter, don’t promise anything you can’t follow through on. I don’t know how much of what the kid said is true — the kid. You have a kid. That’s insane.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Spinner forges on. “Even if everything she said is true — about you missing him and everything — that doesn’t mean you want to get back together with him. Don’t say something you don’t mean.”

You can do that, you think. You need to figure out what you mean first. You nod. “This shouldn’t be the only time we talk before he gets out. Let’s check in sometime once we’ve both gotten sleep,” you say. Spinner nods, and something occurs to you. “Why’d we both end up on that call? I mean, we were the closest to him, but for something this big –”

“I was there because Shigaraki authorized it,” Spinner says. “You’re here because he named you when they locked him up.”

“Huh?”

“When people get to death row, they have to name the person who will get their personal effects and ashes — afterward.” Spinner looks away. “Shigaraki named you.”

Spinner must give your number out, because over the next week, you find yourself fielding calls and texts from Toga, Twice, Magne, and Dabi. None of them have brought up Chihiro, which means Spinner and Midoriya have kept their mouths shut, but that means that you spend a lot of time being yelled at. You get why they’re mad, but you’re getting tired of people being mad at you. Chihiro being mad at you is more than enough.

She’s not quite as mad as you thought she’d be. It could be a lot worse. She’s still talking to you, still says she loves you when you drop her off at school and when the two of you say goodnight – but the consequences of your lie by omission are lurking in every silence, and when she comes to you with questions, it always turns into a fight, no matter how much detail you include in your answer. They’re small fights, just a few minutes of raised voices and tears. Maybe other parents are used to this with their teenagers, but you and Chihiro never fought like this before. It could be a lot worse, but it’s awful.

You haven’t cried in front of her, but you’ve cried plenty on your own. In the bathroom with the shower running. On walks in the woods where you come back after dark. In the bathroom on your breaks at work when you’ve gotten another angry text or you fought with Chihiro on the way to school. And of all the calls you’re getting, none of them are the one you really want – the call from Midoriya, telling you that Tomura’s release date has been set.

You wrote the letter, like Spinner said. You mailed it the next morning, and Spinner let you know he has it, on one of the multiple daily texts you’ve been exchanging. Your interactions with him are probably the least contentious. Spinner’s trying to get his house set up to host Tomura, and because you lived with Tomura, he has a lot of questions for you.

For some reason, he’s called you today instead of texted you, and he hits you with a question before you’ve even said hello. “What kind of mattress does he like?

“Huh?”

“Soft, medium, or firm. What kind was your bed?” Spinner asks. Wherever he is, there’s a lot of noise in the background. “It would have been one of them.”

“I don’t remember. I think we bought it used.” Neither of you had very much money. “We were sleeping in a twin bed for the whole first year we had the apartment.”

“Yeah. Something was wrong with you guys,” Spinner says. You roll your eyes. “So the mattress – was it really squishy? Or really hard?”

“Neither. I think it was just a normal mattress.” The noise in the background is even worse. “Where are you?”

“I’m at IKEA. Midoriya said we might get news on a release date soon, and I’m not making Shigaraki sleep on my couch,” Spinner says. He’s at IKEA. You’re too bemused at that to really respond. “I don’t have any clothes for him, either. Do you remember what size he was?”

Yes, but – “He could be different.”

“He’s not,” Spinner says, and your stomach lurches. “Skinnier, maybe. What size?”

Spinner’s seen him. He must have. As much as your instincts are screaming at you to ask, you hold it together. “You don’t need to buy him new stuff,” you say. “I still have his things.”

“You – what? Really?” Spinner sounds shocked. “That’s – it’s been nineteen years. You kept all of it?”

“Of course,” you say. You don’t know what else to say.

The trial is a blur, but what happened after it wasn’t, as much as you wish it was. You couldn’t afford your apartment without Tomura, and because you couldn’t tell anyone why you were leaving, you had to pack up alone. You were exhausted. You weren’t sleeping and you were constantly throwing up, and when it came time to deal with Tomura’s things, you got as far as taking his coat off its hook by the door before you burst into tears. You sat on the floor with your face buried in it until it stopped smelling like him.

Getting rid of his things was never an option, not really. Even if you’ve never unpacked them, even if you haven’t looked at them since you closed the boxes, it’s meant something that they’re there. You’ve been waiting for Chihiro to ask about them. Dreading it. But maybe you can get around that. “I’ve got his clothes. And his old games. I can send them.”

“I’ll take the clothes, but you should keep the games,” Spinner says. You blink. “In case the kid wants them.”

Oh. “Chihiro doesn’t really game.”

There’s an awkward silence. “When you tell Shigaraki about her, don’t tell him that.”

You would have gotten Chihiro games if she’d ever seemed interested, but you aren’t much of a gamer, and you haven’t seen her play much except for Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley, and really old Pokémon games. Of all the things you’ve worried about when it comes to telling Tomura about his daughter, the fact that she’s not a gamer didn’t factor in, and you find yourself cackling semi-hysterically into the phone. “It’s not funny,” Spinner says, and you laugh harder. “He’s already going to have a hard time with it. What if –”

He's cut off with a series of staccato beeps. You have another call coming in, and when you check the caller ID, your stomach clenches tight. “Midoriya’s calling,” you say. “I have to –”

“Yeah. Go,” Spinner says at once. “He’s probably going to conference me in, so talk to you soon –”

You end the call and accept Midoriya’s, the questions spilling out in an anxious flood before he can even say hello. “Did you find out anything? I know you’re busy and I haven’t wanted to bother you, but – he’s been there for nineteen years and he should never have been there at all. Why is it taking so long to get him out?”

Usually Midoriya would have interrupted by now, but he’s quiet. All you can hear on his end of the line is ragged breathing, and your anxiety goes from uncomfortable to painful in a split second. “Say something,” you plead. “Is he –”

“It’s me.”

You don’t have to ask who it is. You’ve never forgotten the sound of his voice, even if it’s rougher and raspier than you ever heard it, and your own comes out in a strained, airless gasp. “Tomura,” you say. “Are you – out?”

“Yeah.” He sounds so tired. There’s a strange rattle in his breathing. “Midoriya wants his phone back. I can’t talk long. But I needed to hear your voice.”

“I’m – I’m glad you called,” you manage. It feels like the wrong thing to say, but you can’t imagine what the right thing is. You feel like you’ve been shoved off a building – the sick, swooping feeling in your stomach, the inability to orient yourself, the confusion and fear. “Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

Tomura starts to answer, but he starts coughing instead, and Midoriya grabs the phone. “I would have warned you if we’d had any warning, but – it was just supposed to be a pre-release conference. If the judge hadn’t insisted on holding it at the prison – it’s only been a week –”

“Breathe,” you say automatically, like you’re talking to Chihiro instead of to a grown man. “Tomura’s out. That’s good, right?”

“The judge ordered his immediate release, so he can go to the hospital. That’s how much his condition has deteriorated!” Midoriya sounds like he’s vibrating with rage. “I know you want to talk to him, but I need my phone so I can call Kacchan and tell him that if he doesn’t indict Warden Torino and everyone who’s worked under him in the last twenty years –”

“Why is he going to the hospital?” you interrupt. Your voice is shaking. “Midoriya, tell me.”

Midoriya’s not listening to you. “This is why prisoners don’t take legal action even when they’ve been wrongfully imprisoned! They know they’ll be retaliated against with impunity. How are we supposed to effect meaningful change if everyone’s too scared to ask for help?”

“Midoriya!” Your voice cracks. “What happened to Tomura?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Midoriya says. “Dehydration, malnutrition – stop that, you’re supposed to be resting –”

“Give me the phone and I won’t have to fight you over it.” Tomura’s barely audible over the coughing, but when he speaks again, it’s clear he’s got the phone back. “I need to tell you something. I promised myself I would.”

“Okay,” you say. Your heart is pounding. It’s hard to breathe. “Tell me.”

“It was real,” Tomura says. His voice goes quieter, raspier. “It’s still real. I love you.”

He starts coughing again, harder than before, and before you can say a word in response, Midoriya has the phone again. “Can you update Spinner and the others? I won’t be able to make those calls. I have to deal with this – and find a way to protect my other clients –”

“I’ll do it, but you have to update me,” you say. “Even if it’s just a text. I have to know what’s going on.”

“Fine. I’ll work on getting Shigaraki a phone,” Midoriya says. “He can call you once the oxygen mask comes off. Until then I’ll do what I can.”

The oxygen mask. Whatever’s wrong with Tomura, it’s so bad that he’s in the hospital or on his way there. You have so many questions that you don’t have a prayer of getting any of them out. “Okay,” you say, trying to buy yourself time to think, and Midoriya hangs up on you.

You slump back against the wall, your head spinning. There’s cold sweat dripping down your spine, and when you lower the phone from your ear, your hands are shaking so badly that you nearly drop it. Tomura’s out of prison, but he’s in bad shape. Midoriya hung up on you. Tomura called you so he could hear your voice, so he could tell you he loves you, and you don’t know when you’ll be able to talk to him again. And you didn’t have a chance to say it – or anything – back.

Something happened to you when you heard Tomura’s voice, the same thing that happened to you when you found out he’d been exonerated, except this time, you don’t have Chihiro’s presence to force you to ground yourself. It’s like you’re twenty-two again. The world’s turned upside down, everything you thought you knew shaken up and shifted beneath your feet. You don’t know what happens next.

Yes, you do. Call Spinner. Call the others. Tell Chihiro, because you promised you’d tell her as soon as you knew anything, and then finish the rest of your day at work. You can do this. You’ll do it the same way you’ve always done it – one step at a time.

You text Chihiro first. She should be the first one to know that her dad’s out of prison. Then you call Spinner – Spinner, who’s definitely still at IKEA, based on the noise in the background when he picks up. “What’s going on? Midoriya never called me. He’s supposed to let us both know when something happens.”

“It wasn’t Midoriya. It was Tomura,” you say, and Spinner goes dead silent. You take a deep breath, let it go, and on the other end of the line Spinner does the same. Not that it helps much. Everything has changed, and it threatens to overwhelm you all at once – but you’ll handle it one step at a time, until everyone’s looking away and you can fall apart in peace. “He’s out.”

<- Chapter 2

taglist: @shigarakislaughter @deadhands69 @f3r4lfr0gg3r @minniessskii @cryptidfuckerofficial @lvtuss @issaortiz @evilcookie5 @aslutforfictionalmen @lacrimae-lotos @xeveryxstarfallx @stardustdreamersisi @aryuunachigiri

[hayakawalove]

Second Chance

Summary: After a battle with you, Suguru finds himself back at Jujutsu High with a major head injury. He doesn't remember any of the events that occurred over the past couple of years, including his defection. Will you be able to give him a second chance, or is it already too late?

A/N: Big shout out to @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for discussing this with me. They are wonderful and their work is phenomenal, please check them out. I hope you all enjoy! The idea just seemed so interesting to me. How would reader act if they saw Suguru again, and he didn't remember anything? I'm sorry for the ending. I hope you'll forgive me! Comments are appreciated!

CW: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Amnesia, Flashbacks, Death, Friends to Lovers

W/C: 4,791

Credit to cafekitsune for the banner

Silky hair and chapped lips. 

You’ve seen this man before, but never like this. You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here, hours you think. Shoko has come in with food twice, but you’ve turned her down both times. It’s hard to have an appetite like this. There’s an endless pit in your stomach, the anxiety clawing at your insides like a demon. 

He’s changed. His hair is a bit longer, muscles a bit bigger. You can’t see his eyes, but you think they’re probably more cynical than they were several years ago. You deduce by the lines on his face that he still smiles the same. That angers you. 

You feel like the clock in the room is too loud. When you look around, you notice there isn't a clock. It’s just your heartbeat in your ears. It hurts how loud it is. 

You were a bit surprised Suguru showed his face. He avoided everyone, and everyone avoided him. For a while you thought maybe that would make it hurt less. You’ve grown to learn there’s nothing you can do to make it hurt less. 

Suguru was hurt. More hurt than you’ve seen him in a while. It was weird seeing him injured, it was even more weird knowing you were the one who caused it. Suguru was stronger than you. He always has been. Because of this fact, you can’t help but think that maybe he let you win. 

It was a laughable assumption. You knew there wasn’t a world in which he would give up that easily to you. But you couldn’t shake the idea no matter how much you tried. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

When Suguru fell to his knees you had a split second to make a decision. You could finish it all. Kill him. It was exactly what he deserved. There was a small voice in the back of your brain though, telling you you couldn’t kill him. You didn’t know if that was true. You suppose it was, because you dragged his body back to the school despite everything in your body telling you not to. 

It took a lot of convincing to find a room fit enough to hold Suguru. The higher ups were afraid he may do something drastic, but you knew better. After everything he’s done, he’s never gone after other sorcerers. “Just for now.” They told you. He can stay here until they figure out what to do with him.

A finger twitch. 

Any exhaustion that you may have felt was eradicated instantly. You stare at his fingers, praying to yourself it was fake, praying to yourself it was real. 

Lashes flutter and you’re met with caramel eyes. 

Words get caught in your throat, so all you do is stare. He was awake. He was awake and looking at you. Suguru. Memories flash through your brain of the childhood you once shared, happiness and youth flowing through your veins. You may have seen him earlier during your fight, but you didn’t see him, not really anyway. Not like this. Not up close where you could see your own reflection in his eyes.

He stares back, widening his eyes to wake himself up even more. 

Who was going to speak first? 

What would you say? 

Would he-

“Jellybean.”

There’s no ticking anymore. You think your heart has stopped, the sound no longer driving your thoughts. 

That was the nickname he had for you before he left. You aren’t even sure how he came up with it, you don't even remember when he came up with it. The only thing you could remember was how it sounded when it flowed through his lips. Just like that. It sounded just like that. 

Your mouth is glued shut as you look at him. Something is different. Something is wrong. The air around him feels different compared to hours ago. It’s not as heavy. His eyes flick around, taking in all the details of the room. 

“Geto.” You murmur. 

You use his family name out of spite, deciding that he doesn’t deserve to hear you speak his given name. 

Suguru’s brows furrow for a moment, as if surprised to hear you call him that. His gaze trails down to the handcuffs binding him. You know he wants to ask why, but he doesn’t. 

“What happened?” 

He couldn’t remember? It was hard to believe. Memories from your fight were replaying in your mind for hours. 

“You’re joking, right?” You ask. 

“Why would I be joking?”

Fine. You may as well go along with it.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” 

Suguru attempts to sit up but he doesn’t get very far. Pain is etched in his face as he moves. 

“I remember watching the stars.” 

It was something the two of you did together. 

You hadn’t done it in years. 

The last time you star gazed together was a couple of weeks before he left. 

“What do you mean?” You press. 

“I’m guessing more time has passed, you don’t look the same.” He has a thoughtful expression on his face as he takes in your features. 

He’s right. You don’t look the same. You don’t feel the same, either. Where he had smile lines, you now had worry lines. Your lips were set in a permanent frown. 

“You would be correct.” 

“How much time has passed?” 

You don’t really know how to respond to him. You can’t tell him it’s been years. You’re sure that would hurt him. You don’t know why you care about his feelings, when he showed you he didn’t care about yours. 

“A while.” You try to reign in the edge of your voice, but it’s hard.

Emotions you hadn’t thought about in years were beginning to stir inside you. 

“Why am I bound?”

“Safety precaution.”

He thinks on your response before resting his head back. If he doesn’t remember the past several years, that means he doesn’t remember what he did. 

Was that even possible? Forgetting years of memories sounded far fetched. You wanted to believe he was lying, perhaps playing some cruel joke on you. But as you look at him, your heart tugs. He looks like the old Suguru. He feels like the old Suguru. 

“What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? He didn’t get to ask that. Not when he’s the one who put you in this mess. Not when you were unsure of what was even right. 

“You don’t get to ask that.” You bite back. 

He has the audacity to look hurt by the tone of your voice. 

The room grows quiet at your reply. He was done asking questions. Good, you think. You weren’t sure how much more of it you could take.

You call Shoko to assess him. When she arrives, she doesn’t tell you much more than you already know. He’s lost his memory, probably due to a head injury sustained in the fight. How he lost so many years, she couldn’t tell you. Shoko is stiff as she examines Suguru, even more quiet than she usually is. It’s hard to watch. It doesn’t go past Suguru, but then again nothing ever goes past him.

She waits for you outside the room, tired eyes following your figure as you close the door behind you. 

“Should I tell the higher ups?” She asks. 

“Probably. It’s not a secret that he’s here anyway.”

“And Gojo?” 

The mention of his name cuts you like a blade. You hadn’t even thought of him. Did that make you selfish? 

If anyone in the world should know about Suguru, it’s his other half. Gojo knows he’s here, but he doesn’t know the full extent of it. He doesn’t know that Suguru forgot everything. 

“Yeah- you should,” you downcast your gaze. “You should tell him.” 

What would his reaction be? You weren’t really sure. The man had become so detached from the events that had happened all those years ago. He never spoke about Suguru anymore, and would shut down the conversation anytime you tried to talk about it. 

“Alright, but” Shoko says your name and steps closer. “Keep an eye on him.” 

The way she says it sounds like a warning. Not like advice from one caring friend to another. 

“Why? You don’t believe him?” 

“I don’t know. It’s certainly possible. There’s also a chance his memory could come back. Who knows what would happen if that was the case. Just be careful.” 

You have to fight to swallow the rocks in your throat. She was right. Anything could happen. You should be scared. You know that. But there’s a deep part of you that had wanted this to occur. You wanted to have him back, no matter how hard you tried to fight it.

He betrayed you. He hurt you. He was the villain in your story. 

Even still. Even still. 

He was your friend. Your best friend. 

You wave Shoko off before leaning against the door. You release a long sigh, trying to collect yourself before going back into the room. You were going to have to get through this one way or another. You just hoped it would be as painless as possible. 

~~~

“What’s wrong?” He asks once more. 

It’s been a week, and he’s been acting the same way the whole time. In the beginning, you almost thought it would be a ruse. Now, you were certain it wasn’t. 

No one could keep up this ignorant act for that long. Not even Suguru. 

“Nothing.” Your reply is curt. 

You were less angry now. Still hurt, but you were confused more than anything. There were two parts of you, playing tug of war with your heart. Your past and present, fighting for a chance to control you. Your past self wanted to pretend everything was okay, but your present self was screaming at the top of their lungs trying to warn you not to get too close.

Suguru’s lip twitches. It always used to do that. You hate that you remember all of his quirks still like the back of your hand. You tried to forget them, but it was a fruitless endeavor. 

They were a part of you, tattooed on your soul.

“Come on. You know you can’t lie to me.” 

He was right. As much as you were acquainted with his quirks, he was acquainted with yours. If you were being completely honest with yourself, he probably knew you better than you knew him. You never wanted to believe that, but you learned that it was the truth the hard way. 

“No, but I can try real hard.” 

You didn’t know what to tell him even if you wanted to. Where would you even begin? Suguru had turned into the very thing he had been fighting against for years. If you spoke the words into existence, they would become real. Suguru was a monster.

How could you possibly tell him that?

Suguru cracks a grin and you feel like you’re free falling. It was the same smile you grew up with. 

He always graced you with that grin when offering you a cold soda. When you begged him to hold your phone so you could run through the sprinklers. When you stayed up way past your bedtime just so you could talk a little bit longer. 

You hate it. You hate it. You hate it. 

You hate that he’s having this effect on you. Making you melt in his hands as if he hadn’t ripped your heart out. As if the last couple of years didn’t happen at all.

As you repeat the words to yourself you realize it’s a farce. It didn’t matter how much you told yourself you hated him and never wanted to see him again, it simply wasn’t true.

“I suppose so.” He sighs, resting against his hands.

You’re glad he’s dropped the matter. You were unsure how much longer of this you could take. Being in the room with him was suffocating, made even worse when he tried to prod at you. 

You quickly realized leaving his side was just as, if not more awful than being with him. You were constantly wondering how he was, if his memories had come back. It was terrible. 

~~~

Suguru was nearly all healed up. His memories still hadn’t come back, which put the Jujutsu society in shambles. The higher ups wanted to execute him. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember what he’d done. But there were others who wanted him to become a sorcerer once more. 

If he didn’t have any past memories, they could mold him into a hero again. 

You think part of that pressure was a factor in why he left. A man gifted with powers that were out of this world. Neither him or Gojo had much of a say in how they operated before, being used like puppets in a game. Their entire high school career was like that, at least until Suguru forced open a new path.

You hated that the sorcerers thought that, that they wanted to use him like that. But you understood it. 

Suguru was an asset, you would have to be blind not to acknowledge that. 

Then there was Gojo. He didn’t have much of an opinion. Maybe he did, but he never said anything. Never spoke his mind one way or the other. On the outside it almost seemed he was impartial to the decision, but you knew that couldn’t be true. 

It must hurt for him just like it hurts for you. 

Although he has the added responsibility of being the executioner, the ax that will swing down if Suguru is decided to be irredeemable. 

You stride by Suguru, the two of you deciding to go on a walk this morning. His steps are small, walking slowly in order to remain at your pace. When you were in school he did the same thing. Never too fast, never too slow. 

The two of you weren’t even supposed to be out of the room he was placed in. Who knows what would happen if the higher ups found out you had been taking him on excursions? 

But you just couldn’t not bring him outside. The room he was being kept in was so small and suffocating. Everytime you mentioned doing something outside of it, you would catch a glint in his eye. He was envious. Of course he never said anything. That wasn’t in his nature. He would smile and nod, listen to your stories while pushing down his own desires to explore. 

You felt for him. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like to be confined to a bed, awaiting your sentencing for a crime you didn’t even remember committing. So what if you snuck him out? It was only for a day. Nobody had to know.

The school grounds were relatively quiet, giving you the perfect opportunity to walk around. For how mad you initially were, you sure were crumbling fast. It was hard to maintain your disposition. Suguru was back, and that’s what you had wanted for years. 

“You hurt a lot of people.” You say, figuring you should finally clue him in.

The words taste bitter on your tongue. It feels like the understatement of the century. 

“How many?” He responds. 

You don’t say anything. You don’t say anything because you aren’t sure what to say. You had no idea how many people Suguru killed. And even if you did, you aren’t sure you would be able to tell him. 

Suguru picks up on your expression. 

“That many?” He murmurs.

You look away as if you’ve been caught in a lie. The clock (your heart) is back, and it won’t stop ticking. It’s hard to breathe under the heat of his gaze, under the pressure of reality. 

“That many.” 

You could tell that it was hard to believe for him. It was hard for you to believe, too. You wonder what’s going through his mind. The Suguru you once knew would never dream of hurting anyone.

“They want to kill you.” You go on. May as well lay it all on the table right now.

You assumed he probably already knew. You wanted to say the words anyway, to dispel any assumption that things would go back to normal once he was released. Then again, you weren’t really sure what normal meant anymore. 

“I see.” 

Suguru doesn’t argue back. He never does. Not like Gojo, who could argue until his face was red. Suguru doesn’t try to plead his case because he isn’t able to. What’s done was done. Even if he doesn’t remember it.

An unassuming man on death row. 

You tell yourself it wouldn’t hurt if he was being killed if he maintained his memories. That wasn’t the case, though. The man who was being put on trial for execution was your Suguru. 

The Suguru you grew up with. The Suguru who would fight for you. The Suguru you loved more than anything. The Suguru before he broke your heart. 

(You tell yourself they’re two different people, two different Suguru’s, the before and after. But you know that’s not true. Whether you liked it or not, it was the same man.)

“You didn’t like nonsorcerers.” You say. The wind brushes his hair from his face. “What do you think about them now? How do you feel about helping them?” 

His eyes flicker over the school. You wonder what he’s thinking. Is he remembering your childhood? For you, it had been years, but to him it felt like yesterday. You also were struck with memories of your childhood when you looked at the school, but they turned your stomach sour. 

“It makes me angry. I want to help them, they need it. But it hurts to see our friends die.” It was more than he had ever told you before. “What about you?” 

“I don’t mind.” You didn’t mind helping them in the same sense that you didn’t mind doing laundry. 

The task never ended. It was monotonous.

You had walked a full circle around the school, finally coming to a stop underneath a tree. It was the same tree you and Suguru had relaxed under many times before. It only made sense that your feet would carry you here. 

The two of you don’t share any more words, instead opting for a moment of silence. It was nice. Being under this tree with him. You needed it. As the wind kisses your skin you feel hopeful. Maybe he could be fixed. He just told you he wants to help. Maybe you could convince the higher ups he wasn’t a lost cause. Maybe you could save him. 

A form of repentance for your ignorance all those years ago.

~~~

The only sound coming from your room was the quiet lull of the TV. You had been up for hours, but you still weren’t tired.

Suguru was with you. He was clad in a large shirt with baggy pajama pants.

His presence was calming. Every night he made his way to your room to lay with you. 

It didn’t matter that neither of you slept for hours after he visited. You felt safe, and that was the important part. 

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” You ask, looking up at Suguru. 

You were laying on your bed, Suguru sitting at your side. He’s flicking through your TV, uninterested in everything that was playing at this hour. 

“Yeah, shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll have Satoru with me.” 

Both boys were assigned on a top secret mission tomorrow. The only issue was that “top secret” hardly meant anything to Gojo. He blabbed about it the second he was excused from Yaga’s office. The two had to escort the star plasma vessel. An extremely vital task, an honor that wouldn’t have been bestowed upon just anybody. Of course the two special grades were assigned to do it. 

“And you’ll be there as well. You’re just as strong as him.” 

“For now.” 

You pout your lip out as you look at him. Suguru was always humble, but his humbleness was turning into self doubt these days. Of course it was hard to compare yourself to Gojo. He was almost a prophet. 

It didn’t help that all of the adults compared the two boys. Suguru was trying his hardest, wasn’t that all that mattered? 

“You’re stronger than me, if it’s any consolation.” You reply. 

It’s hard to know how to comfort him. He wasn’t wrong in thinking Gojo would surpass him, but you didn’t want him believing that meant he was less than. 

Suguru looks at you and grins, pinching your cheek. He chuckles softly at the way you cry, pushing his hand away. The TV was set on some childhood cartoon, a show you knew Suguru didn’t watch. Gojo did, though. You imagine it brought comfort to Suguru. He leaves it on in the background as he lays beside you. 

His body heat brings about more warmth than any blanket could conjure up. You use all of your willpower to not snuggle up to him. 

“Do you wanna do anything when I get back?” He questions.

The proposition almost sounds like a date. It could be one, you think. The feelings you share for each other is no secret, it’s as blatant as can be. Neither of you acted on them, though. It was almost like a game, it was fun. 

You thought you had all the time in the world. 

(Oh how wrong you were.)

One of you would make the first move, but for now you tiptoed the line between just being friends and something more.

“What would you want to do?” You close your eyes as you strain your ears to pick up on his voice. 

You don’t see it, but his gaze is set on you. Picking out the details on your face. 

“Anything.” 

You grin, your body beginning to feel weightless. It was always easier to sleep with him around. You begin to think about the adventures you could go on tomorrow, the options were limitless. He was right. You guys really could do anything. It didn’t matter, as long as he was by your side everything would be okay. 

Everything would be okay.

~~~

The higher ups had made their decision. Suguru was not going to live to see another day.

It stings when you hear the news. You don’t remember who told you, all you can remember is the way it made you feel. Like you’re drowning. 

Were you so naive as to think you could change the outcome of anything? 

That you could even save him?

The sun is shining when the day comes to execute Suguru. Birds are chirping, the temperature isn’t too hot and your world is falling apart once more. 

You thought you didn’t care about him anymore. 

Silly you. 

Maybe you would never stop caring for him. He was too intertwined with your soul. 

“You have one hour.” The news is delivered to you. 

Suguru hasn’t spoken a word to you all day. It’s not because he’s angry, no, he’s quite at peace with what's happening. 

He doesn't know everything he did, but he understands that this is what needs to happen. There can be no Suguru Geto, for the betterment of society. 

Regardless of what’s better for you.

It’s sick how depressed you feel. 

Your head is pounding and your stomach has been flipped upside down all morning. You don’t know why it’s such a shock to you. You knew this was coming. Deep down, you knew the odds of him making it out alive were slim. 

Maybe a part of you thought they would change their minds, and that you and Suguru could run into the sunset. 

What a fucking joke. 

“It’ll be okay.” Suguru murmurs in an effort to help you. 

He’s comforting you? He’s the one on death row yet he’s worried about your feelings? 

That was so like Suguru. 

Your Suguru. 

His wording is funny, too. He says “it will be okay” instead of “you will be okay”. He would never tell you how you’re going to feel, but he does know everything else would be okay. 

The world will keep spinning and the sun will keep shining once he’s dead and gone. No matter how much you wish it wouldn't. 

The world didn’t need Suguru, but you did. God, you did. 

You’ve survived this long without him, but at what cost? Your sanity? Your youth? You were a husk of a person since he left, but you at least knew he was out there somewhere. You wouldn't have such comfort anymore. 

“I don’t want it to be okay.” You reply. 

And you really didn’t. You wanted the world to crumble in his absence, just like you had. 

He smoothes his hand over yours, heat spreading throughout you. 

“I have to atone for my sins.” Suguru says your name like a prayer, watching as you shiver beside his bed. 

Suguru was right. You knew he was right. 

“What if you didn’t have to? What if I,” you begin. “What if we leave?” 

You snap your head up to look at him through bleary vision. There’s a small smile on his face as he watches you, like a parent placating a child. 

“And went where?” 

“Anywhere!” 

“No.” His response is curt. 

He reaches a hand up to cup your face. The tears have poured over your lash line now, and they won’t stop. 

It was happening all over again. He was leaving you again. 

“How can you do this to me?” You cry.

Suguru’s hand drops and his lips pull down a little. It must have stung when you said that. You don’t care that it hurts him. You’re hurting, and he could stop the pain if only he fought back. 

He scoots to the side of the bed to create room for you. He doesn't even have to tell you to get in before you’re hopping up, sliding down into his side. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You don’t want his sorry’s. You want him. 

Your hands curl up in the fabric of his shirt, tugging it as you cry beside him. There’s an hour left and you aren’t sure you’ll be able to compose yourself before then. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to compose yourself. 

Suguru’s hand runs through your hair as you release all of the pent up emotions. To mourn someone before they’re even dead is a difficult feat, and you’ve managed to do it twice for him. 

Will it be fast? Will it hurt? 

“You have to go, they’ll be here soon.” 

“I’m not- I’m not going anywhere.” You pull him closer. 

You would have to be dragged away. You were seeing this through to the end. He needed someone before he died. He needed someone now because he never had anyone before. 

Suguru releases a shaky breath and holds you against his frame. You memorize the way he feels beside you, the smell of his skin against yours. You never really forgot, but you wanted to indulge one last time. 

There’s foot fall outside the door and you bury your face in his chest, pleading for the universe to be kinder to you. 

“I love you, you know that right?” His voice cracks. 

“I love you, I love you Suguru, please don't let them take you,” 

You can hear his heart shatter, but it could just be a reflection of your own.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” He’s kissing your cheek, licking the salty remnants from his lips. 

Was he kidding? You wouldn't be able to take care of yourself, not like he could. Not like he did. 

The door creaks open and you slam your eyes shut. Not yet. You weren’t finished. You needed more time. 

Without taking a peek, you already know it’s Gojo who’s standing in the doorway. You don’t catch the somber gaze he shares with Suguru. 

At least it was going to be Gojo who did it. He would make it as painless as possible. 

You force Gojo to work around you. You intended to keep your promise. You weren’t going to leave Suguru, not until you had to. 

“I’ll be waiting.” Suguru murmurs in your ear. 

It’s over quicker than you were expecting. Suguru goes still in your arms, heavy hands loosening from your body.

You stay with him until he’s become stiff. Only leaving once you’re forcefully removed. 

There’s static in your ears as you’re dragged back to your room. It was finally over. The last page to a macabre book. 

You knew it hurt to lose him, you’ve done that before. 

But to really lose him? 

It’s a pain you will never get over.

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @kimi01985, @sad-darksoul, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @mikisspeak, @dinolvrrr. @sakui1, @reiluvr, @gothicwhore666, @bunviixo

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[aerialflight]

fic rec list (2025 and all the random fandoms and ships i got stuck in)

It's truly been ages since I made a list and I'm not kidding when I say I've been wildly going back and forth in old and new fandoms. Yes, it includes arcane. It was short lived and glorious and I have so many to share with you now that the fever has passed (somewhat). Anyway! Hope you enjoy! (Also, I think this is the most shippy fic rec list I've ever made, it's fucking ridiculous fnewiofpewa)

-

[Arcane] (i want it noted that i was a jayce fan since s1 and the vindication i felt at the flood of jayce/viktor fics that came in after s2 was unparalleled. so yeah, nearly all the arcane fics on this list have this ship. sue me.)

Balance (this world is a wasteland but we can still grow) by zillac

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

Viktor stays in the Hexcore chrysalis a few more hours. Jayce stays busy falling into the ravine of an alternate dimension and fighting his way back to his partner so that they can invent something new together: a future. ~~~ “What am I?” Viktor asked. “What do you want to be?” Jayce was bearded and haggard and hopeful. “Yours,” Viktor said, a memory and a realization both, like it was a truth that was woven into each of his metal and organic molecules.

(i need fix it fics like i need to breathe, especially for these two. it's not too long and hit the right spot for me when it came to the hurt/comfort, and there were some fucking lines here that legit made me look it up because it was so fucking beautiful and i needed to know if the author really came up with it, goddamn it. also, when i say fix it, i mean in general, not just for the ship. and caitlyn and jayce's relationship was so nice here, i loved it!)

Recourse Pathways by begaydocrimes10001

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

Jayce blinked once. He blinked again. There was the sun, and clouds, and when Jayce ran his hand over his cheeks, there was barely any stubble. (Jayce and Viktor find themselves in the past, just a few hours before a group of Undercity kids broke into Jayce's lab and sparked a chain of events that would later end the world. They get a second shot at preventing it, and, maybe, creating something better in its place.)

Part 1 of State of Matter Changes

(listen, i know that the fandom is bloated with time travel fix its by this point and i'm just as much as a sucker for them too, but i'm more in love with this series because of how much focus it puts on other characters and the chain reaction viktor and jayce's actions have beyond this first fic. truly, after part 1, the series shifts to other characters such as silco, vander, mel, and even sevika more. every fic expands and extends the series of events that occur to make zaun independent and what that actually means. it's so freaking good and the characterization and focus of each character and their perspective is excellent! even if you're not that into jayce/viktor, once you get past the initial part 1 of this series, you'll end up loving the political machinations that happen in the rest.)

Dress me in midnight, feast upon my bones by hexhomos

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

The rocket strikes through the heart. Reality collapses in less than five seconds. Jayce rebuilds Viktor, little by little, piece by piece. And if his partner comes back from the dead a little different, well... what's not to love? Jayce is a quick study. He can adjust himself into a suitable form. He pledged himself to this task a dozen years ago; he's in it for the long haul. * To put it bluntly: this is the one where Dr. Frankenstein runs away with his bride. ( Jayce follows Viktor down to the depths of Zaun, and amid the riots and war-banners, everything changes. )

(*screeEEEEAACH!!!* INSANE. TRULY AND POSITIVELY INSANE. GOD HELP ME I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH OH MY GOD FNEIOWFPEWA)(for the LOVE OF GOD the way this author fucking expands the idea of jayce being a goddamn immigrant and what that means, the author just fucking GETS him, AND VIKTOR IS A MAD SCIENTIST AND I STAND BY THIS SO FUCKING HARD HELL YEAH!! i just, god, GOD, the author got them so RIGHT. i know i'm yelling a lot, but seriously, it's so good. it's so so so good nfewofewa)(READ!!)

Forged in Fire by chicandcheesy

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

Jayce Talis has lived in the Undercity since he was eight. Now, he's a blacksmith with more scars and trauma than cash. He’s tired, broke, and frankly, just trying not to lose his mind. Then Viktor—a reclusive scientist who had been expelled from the Academy—walks into his forge one day. Suddenly, Jayce's life is turned upside down. Between questionable alliances, sexual tension, and Viktor’s maddening habit of being too smart for his own good, Jayce starts to think he might actually go mad. But if anyone’s worth the trouble, it's Viktor. - (A Zaunite Jayce AU)

(i am and always shall be in love with the idea of zaunite!jayce. it just, oof, hits me in the gut. the idea of someone so optimistic as jayce being rundown and hardened by zaun makes me feral. i love how you can see how much he's changed yet stayed the same compared to canon. every fic writer has their own idea of what jayce would be like if he lived in zaun and it's fascinating every time. also, it's so funny how much viktor is the same yet the power dynamics between them have been flipped. god, i can go on, but please just read the fic, it's so good fnewiofpnewe)

Run It Back Again by Withercrown

Ships: Jayce/Viktor, Silco/Vander

Sometimes there's nothing you can do except scrap the whole experiment and start over. The worst possible outcome becomes an opportunity for a new beginning. Viktor and Jayce, estranged enemies in a brutal war, go back to the start - and then earlier than that. The key to their salvation ends up being an undercity brat named Silco. He's not quite the person they remember. (Completed. Updates frequently.)

(so while i'm not as into the league of legends lore, i do have a soft spot for the divorce era versions of jayce and viktor. and man, it makes me cackle watching jayce fumble his way into viktor's good graces lmao. and silco!! is a fucking ally cat and i love him in this fic so much!! and the fact jayce has to play nice with so many people who hates his guts fill me with glee lol. seriously, please read if you love time travel, the divorced era, and seeing jayce suffer. it's a good time XD)

Butterfly Nebulas by MalaMari

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

In a whirlwind, one can have everything, nothing, then everything again. In a single night, a near stranger stood at Jayce's side at both his darkest and brightest moments. Sometimes, the presence of a single person can change everything. Aka: Arcane, but focused on Jayce and Viktor where everyone gets more friends and (maybe) a happier ending.

(first and foremost, this fic is very much friendship based and the banter is absolutely what sold me to this fic. it's just so much fun to read?? and the relationship between caitlyn, jayce, and viktor is so heartwarming and believable in how much they care about each other. and while the plot in itself is slow, you can see how the author is building up the canon divergence brick by brick through every relationship and interaction that occurs. this fic is a slow burn both in the ship and in the plot and i appreciate the time and effort the author is spending to do it. please read this fic, i'm so excited to see where it goes!)

Of Memories and Tomorrows by Lieyantosh

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

Instead of dissolving with Viktor like Jayce expected, he gets sent a decade into the past when Viktor didn’t even know him yet. Of course the logical action to take is to kidnap him. Meanwhile Viktor, twenty-two years old, figures that hey, as long as he can research magic, this isn’t too bad of a predicament. Or: Post-Season 2 Jayce and Season 1 Viktor, the grief of having lost your soulmate while having to look at his younger version who doesn’t even know you, the endless exhaustion of being a second-hand love and also science.

(this is hands down my fave fic on this list, no questions asked. just, GOD, jayce is so fucking feral and deranged and insanely in love with viktor, and viktor who doesn't know him from adam just has to Deal with that lmao. but yeah, this fic was both incredibly healing and sad and genuinely unnerving at times because, like i said, jayce is fucking unhinged here lol. i reread this 3 times and i just fell in love with this fic so hard and fast, it's ridiculous. please read, it's so freaking good fnewiofpea)

Men of Progress by Zairielon

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

On a frozen tundra, a mystical figure makes the decision to save Jayce's life. Thus begins a journey of destiny, the indomitable strength of the human soul, and love that transcends death, all bound together by the Arcane. The Mage gives Jayce and Viktor a chance to change their fate. And the two humans push back against the natural order of time. Maybe, just maybe... life is not set in stone. OR, Jayce does not lose their dream. And he will never let Viktor slip through his fingers.

(*YELLS EXCITEDLY* IT UPDATED!! hey, HEY, if you didn't know, you know now. this fic, which didn't update in 2 years, FINALLY UPDATED and finished the fic! truly and sincerely, this was one of my fave fics back when and i fucking YELLED when i saw this got completed. seriously, this is still one of the best arcane time travel stories i ever read! please read!!)

In Loco Parentis by Anonymous

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

The boy blinks a few times, shaking his head before he looks around, his eyes darting from all different parts of the ravine. Viktor instinctively takes a step back when his eyes land on him, grasping his cane even tighter. “Uh hi?” Viktor points his cane at him. “Who-Who are you?” He tries to make his voice sound strong, the way that the men that haggle for money do, but it comes out shaky. “Are you going to hit me with that?” The boy eyes the cane warily. “Maybe.” Viktor juts a chin out. “If you don’t tell me who you are.” “Oh!” The boy brightens. “I’m Jayce! Or: During the rescue with the Mage, Jayce gets transported to the Undercity and meets Viktor instead, and everything spirals from there.

(the fic that started my obsession with zaunite!jayce. i know it's incomplete. do i care? no, no i do not. i reread this obsessively for literal YEARS. also, ALSO, with the context of s2, this fic just fucking hits different now. truly, if there's a fic i want to write fics for, it's this goddamn fic, its HAUNTS me fnioewfewew)(please read, i beg of you!)

If you're gonna be the death of me [that's how I wanna go] by Caspercryptid (FaiaHae)

Ship: Ekko/Jinx

Jinx has loved Ekko over half her life, so she's not shocked when she starts coughing up flowers.

(hey! it's a wild ekko/jinx fic! but yeah, the idea that it's this couple in particular who got hanahaki made me brain spiral like a hamster in a wheel. really love how the author writes jinx and absolutely recommend it!)

the dust inside the rusted souls by MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

Viktor is dying. This is nothing new. He’s been dying since he was born, since he took his first acrid lungful of Fissure air, and he accepted his premature expiration long ago. Everyone has to die anyways, right? All the Fissure had done was move up the finish line. That doesn’t make it any easier. —— Or, Viktor never tries Shimmer, and his death is the slow, painful erosion that everyone said it would be.

(so fucking angsty with no happy ending, and yet one of the most beautiful fics i've read in a while. and the way the author wrote viktor was so accurate it actually hurt, goddamn. even though it doesn't end happy for viktor, i still believe this fic ended with some hope and i love that. please give this a chance, it's really good!)

scientist and scientist by milkbird

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

“If this Hextech thing doesn't work out,” Jayce drawls, slow and sweet, head still dangling awkwardly from his neck, except now he's facing Viktor. “You know what we should do?” This is a joke Viktor isn't in on. But now he's intrigued, so he draws up his good leg and rests his elbow on it, letting the quiet hum of music wash over him. “What,” he asks, “Should we do, Jayce?” Jayce is holding in a laugh. “Suicide pact.” (Public appearances are boring. Viktor steals Jayce away, and they reflect.)

(this fic screams neurodivergent and i fucking LOVE it! it's so funny and yeah! these two are mad fucking scientists! let them be weird!! it felt real in a way where i definitely have friendships like theirs where i can be weird with someone and they'll say ditto. it just has that vibe and it's so damn good!)(#Jayce is hot and sincere and also weird as hell)(this is literally one of the tags and it's what convinced me to give it a go. i have no regrets!)

destabilise by antiparticular

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

Jayce was naked and in Viktor's bed. Don't get him wrong - Viktor had dreamed of this happening, both literally and on slow days in the lab when he was feeling particularly self-indulgent, but for it to manifest outside of his overactive imagination? He was half tempted to pinch himself to check he'd actually awoken. Why was Jayce Talis in Viktor's bed? And more pressingly, why did Viktor not remember? -- We've all seen the fics where Jayce and Viktor end up in their past bodies post S2 and immediately get down and dirty about it, but what if their trip to the past wasn't as permanent as they expected?

Part 1 of destabilise

(*cackles like a madman* this was so fucking funny and i NEED people to read this. it truly never occured to me that there would be an aftermath of s2 jayce and viktor hopping around through space when there absolutely would be! of course! and it's just as funny as you think it is! if you need a good laugh, please read!)

-

[The Witcher] (i know, i'm surprised too. why brain, why.)

Songs of War by StarsAreMassive

Ship: Geralt/Jaskier

Life after Oxenfurt wasn't what Jaskier thought it would be. Dull and uninspired, what is a bard to do? Other than drag a half dead witcher back to his room, thus setting off a chain of events that start a war and and pave the way for a new Warlord in the North. Meanwhile, witchers all over the Continent are pushed to breaking point. Geralt wants to know who this fucking bard is who keeps singing about him. And Letho establishes a venomous hatred for lutes.

(so, i read the warlord fic and became so fascinated by the concept. i truly understand why the premise spawned hundreds of fics now, it's such a fun idea to play with. but this fic made me desperately want more in a way that consumed me. it's an origin story of why geralt became a warlord and honestly? it built up to it so well and with so much humor at first, courtesy to jaskier who goes Through It in this fic lmao. it steadily gets more serious and it made me so eager to know what happens next. please give it a read, it's so well written and is such a believable origin story for the warlord idea.)

Standing in Time with You by Sapphire09

Ship: Geralt/Jaskier

Cornflower eyes opened to the sight of a dark wooden ceiling full of holes. He noted the holes absently, a familiar sight he equated to his life while still on the road, wondering where he is. The last he remembered was the tall ceiling of his Oxenfurt chamber. He also remembered the pain. Weird, how the afterlife looks like the room of an inn. ------ Jaskier remembers being dead. That doesn't explain why he wakes up looking like he was fresh from the Oxenfurt graduating class instead of the handsome, distinguished professor he actually is. Nothing is making much sense, honestly. He just hopes he's not just going completely crazy first before figuring anything about what the fuck happened, or is happening.

(time travel! it's unfinished but god! it's so good!! this fic both made me laugh so hard and had me feeling so bad for jaskier lmao. god i hope this fic gets updated one day, but even if not, i hope this fic inspires others to write more time travel fics in the witcher fandom. the possibilities are endless!! absolutely recommend!)

Roll for Initiative by Draco_sollicitus

Ship: Geralt/Jaskier

En route to game night, a beautiful, mysterious woman falls on Julian Pankratz out of nowhere. She mistakes him for a real bard and then starts talking nonsense about "portals," as if they haven't been outlawed on the Continent for half a millennium. She gifts him magical dice, urging him to "save the White Wolf." Julian, playing Dungeons and Dragons as the fabulous bard Jaskier, rolls a Nat 20 while trying to gain an ally in the murderous Butcher of Blaviken - and is instantly transported to a very strange world similar to the Redania of centuries past. There, he meets the real Butcher, a stoic and sarcastic Witcher named Geralt. Julian also quickly discovers that in this world, he has something that other bards don't: Jaskier the bard really does have magic, and quite a bit of it too - something that both interests and worries Geralt. The Witcher and the bard's quest for answers brings adventure, surprises, heartache, magic, healing -- and maybe a little bit of true love.

(*points vehemently* i've been saying for years that i've wanted to read a witcher fic that involves d&d and it's here! i somehow missed it and it's here!! genuinely had so much fun reading this, jaskier having the same abilities as a d&d bard had me grinning so hard. the possibilities!! also, it's reader interactive! the comment section of the fic was just as much fun to read as the fic, i truly could not predict how the plot would go because depending on the roll of a d20, the plot can go anywhere. love this idea and how well the author executed it! seriously, please give this fic a go! it's a fun time, i promise XD)

The Wanderer's Choice by Little_vesuvius

Ship: Geralt/Jaskier

Julian has never been normal. He has a talent, a gift that is both debilitating and powerful. He has always heard the songs of everyone, everywhere, he goes. His mind is never quiet. The longer he stays in a place the louder the songs get. With every passing year in a city, he grows sicker, and no healer can help him against the crushing noise of the songs of every living being in Oxenfurt. So when he has the opportunity to travel, he does so as Jaskier the Bard. In Posada, Jaskier finds an angry, silent man brooding in a corner, with a loud enough song to drown out the world's crush of noise. Curious, he follows the man, only to discover he is the infamous Butcher of Blaviken - but a man with such a sad, lonely song surely isn't a monster. Geralt just wants to know why this fool of a bard is following him on hunts and won't leave him alone, even knowing his reputation. It's not like anyone really wants to be around him. The bard will get sick of the novelty soon, surely. Or his temper. Filavandrel just wants his people to be left in peace. Finding an old elvish legend in the form of a human bard is the last thing he expects when he captures a witcher.

Part 1 of Heartsong AU

(i've always loved the jaskier is not human trope, and this fic was so creative?? it has a part 2 too and i'm just really fascinated by how the author explored this power jaskier has in this fic. it's really interesting and i definitely recommend!)

-

[Star Trek] (another unexpected fandom i haven't looked at in a long time. see a pattern? also, mckirk won me over HARD.)

Hotspur by kurgaya

Ship: Jim Kirk/Leonard McCoy

try. verb. 1. to attempt to do or accomplish; 2. to subject to strain, as of endurance, patience, or tax; 3. to determine the truth of (a quarrel or question) by test or battle [Academy Era]. "God forbid you're a Shakespearean wife then," Bones grumbles, and Jim laughs.

(finished this recently and i swear, i felt ALL the emotions, holy shit. this fic is made to break and fix your heart. jim has a service dog due to Tarsus Trauma and it's accurately depicted with respect and empathy. and Bones is depressed, which i do feel like i need to tag as a warning (please read the fic's tags), it got very Real at times. but man, it explores his depression in ways that hit me right in the chest. definitely brought up things i haven't thought about it a long while. but the healing process absolutely made this worth reading, i definitely cried at some parts. also, as an added bonus, it has a fake marriage trope embedded in the premise that brings a lot of hilarity and warmth to it in very interesting ways! please read, it's such a unique, very funny at times, and undeniably compassionate fic that explores trauma and recovery beautifully, with all the ugliness that comes with it.)

AsQ by laughter_now

Ship: Jim Kirk/Leonard McCoy

It started out as an ordinary day. So ordinary in fact that it took Jim until late in the afternoon to realize that something was horribly wrong. It was unusual that Bones wasn't in Sickbay during a busy shift, but it wasn't unheard of. What was wrong, absolutely and terrifyingly wrong, was that Bones wasn't even on board. In fact, nobody aboard the Enterprise has ever heard of a Leonard McCoy. There is no record of anyone by that name ever serving in Starfleet. In fact, there is no record of him at all. And that is so wrong that Jim can't even find any words for it.

(is it weird if i say that this is the most enraging and heartbreaking fic i've read for jim kirk? not even tarsus made me this pissed off. jim goes through so so much?? yet the catharsis somehow makes it worth it and i don't have any regrets reading this. not gonna lie, this was hard to read at first, but i literally couldn't stop reading due to the twists and turns this rollercoaster of a fic took me on. seriously, if you want a fic that has mystery, tension, and has you yelling out in triumph, this is absolutely for you.)

Quell the Cosmic Tides by SpocksBrainWorms

Ship: Jim Kirk/Spock

Enterprise is safe to fly another day. All thanks to Captain James T. Kirk's sacrifice. He's made peace with his death, even though it breaks his heart one final time to see the hurt in Spock's eyes. Still, the last thing he gets to see is the face of one of his dearest friends... until his eyes snap back open. Not in a hospital. In a shuttle as it lands at the Academy. “Once you exit the shuttle you are free to return to your dorms. Those of you who are new, you’ll follow me to registration and physicals,” a vaguely familiar-looking officer says, and Jim’s heart stops in his chest. Surprising, considering it shouldn’t be beating at all.

(god, GOD, i'm so so in love with this fic, it's ridiculous! THE time travel fic of this fandom other than lullabyknell's. sincerely, if you haven't read this fic yet, for the love of god, PLEASE do, it's fantastic!!)

When the world comes in by bluejbird

Ship: Jim Kirk/Leonard McCoy

Everyone is blessed with a gift, but Jim's isn't as exciting or useful as the rest of his family. His gift is dreaming of his soulmate. As hard as it is to watch his soulmate live without him, the dreams provide comfort during times when Jim would otherwise give up. Or, the one where Jim spends his life dreaming of Bones.

Part 7 of Interconnected

(honestly? you can read any of the other fics in this series, they're all soulmate fics but in different ways and they're all very very good! this just happens to be my favorite in the series XD.)

Not in Our Stars by emluv

Written for a prompt requesting a fic in which brilliant young medical student Leonard McCoy volunteers for a Doctors Without Borders-type organization and ends up helping with the rescue efforts on Tarsus IV, where he meets a teenage, traumatized Jim Kirk, who will, for whatever reason, allow only McCoy to treat him. I have played fast and loose with TOS information about Tarsus IV and its location, making it closer to Earth so that McCoy could feasibly make it there and back in one summer. Title taken from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, Act I, scene ii: “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in our selves...”

(a gen fic? on this shippy fic rec list? more likely than you think. but yeah, young mccoy hit me where it hurts and i could just see the more grumpy, cantankerous man he'll become. and yet he's still so endlessly compassionate no matter the age. something that this jim definitely needs. the slow building trust between the two and the sheer competency mccoy shows here made me fall in love with this fic. truly, i should've gotten more into the star trek fandom, there's so many fics out there to be read!)

exclamation (not an explanation) by TheWriter2

Ship: Jim Kirk/Spock

"Just before he makes it to the door, Spock realizes that if he is about to throw Vulcan propriety to the wind and embrace his humanity, then he had better do it properly." Having rejected his admission to the VSA, Spock finds himself with very few options. Still angry at his father and Vulcan, Spock decides to join Starfleet and honor his human heritage. There’s only one problem— the Vulcan High Council has banned Vulcans from joining Starfleet, claiming that the organization is abhorrently militaristic. So Spock decides to defy the odds and find a way to enlist. But the road to a starship is full of many pitfalls, and at every turn Spock risks someone realizing his Vulcan heritage and facing a court martial. To Spock, though, it’s all worth it; especially after he meets a bright young cadet who can take Spock to the stars with only a glance.

(this was the cutest fucking fic i've ever read omg!! spock is so! awkward and adorable and i just want to hug him so bad fnewofepwaf. the idea of spock having to pretend to be human mulan au style is fucking inspired, it's so funny and cute! seriously, if you just want a fic that fires endorphins in your brain, this is absolutely for you!!)

-

[Crossovers]

Whatever Can Die is Beautiful by UrieNanashi

Fandoms: The Witcher, Elden Ring

Ship: Geralt/Jaskier

Jaskier is finally free. After so long trapped in a form not his own he had begun to doubt which was his true self. But here he is, unshackled. The betrayals, violence, abandonment- the destruction his family wrought upon themselves and others, all of it left far behind. Jaskier is determined to enjoy this second chance. To bask in the beauty of life and ignore what horrors linger. Then he meets Geralt and things become complicated. ......................................................... “They don’t exist.” “Pardon?” The bard’s brown hair flops as he tilts his head. Geralt bravely doesn’t sigh again. “The monsters in your songs. They don’t exist.” For some reason that gets him a grin, “How do you know?” Geralt stares at him. “I’m a Witcher.” The bard laughs, “So just because you’ve never seen them that means they don’t exist?” “Yes.” Geralt says flatly. “Agree to disagree.” The man says flippantly, “But I would love to hear more about the monsters you’ve fought.” “No.” Geralt takes a drink desperately and finds he is almost at the bottom of his tankard. He contemplates whether it’s worth the coin for another. Probably not.

(truly, you don't really need to know anything about elden ring before reading the fic. i went into it without knowing anything and the fic still resonated with me. this fic feels episodic, with a monster of the week and both characters slowly getting to know each other through their adventures. i love jaskier and how he's depicted here, with all his secrets that he's trying to run from. the ambiance of the fic really seeps into you and pulls you into the story. absolutely recommend and you go into this blind without knowing anything, trust me.)

The Case of Leonard McCoy by AceOfSpades

Fandoms: Doom (2005), Star Trek

Ship: Jim Kirk/Leonard McCoy

The first thing Jim noticed about McCoy, and what started him on this whole messy path, was that McCoy was just a little…off.

Part 1 of Investigations

(listen, LISTEN, even if you've never seen Doom, it's legit one of the most suspenseful, cat and mouse mystery fics i've read in ages. seriously, it's so much fun to read, especially when both characters are so intelligent and every move makes sense and creeping ever closer to the truth. even though bones is also a different character, he's still definitely bones, just multilayered. like an onion! and jim is so persistent and perfectly kirk here, no wonder bones fell for him haha! absolutely recommend even if you've never watched doom, though it definitely helps in understanding what's going on on bones' side and adds to reader enjoyment. please read!)

[fattummyt]

Bruce Banner & Tony Stark/Female Patient Reader - "Do You Concur?" 🌶️

Summary: The reader pays a visit to her primary OBGYN, Dr. Banner, to discuss some pain she's experiencing during orgasm and the results of her exam are surprisingly pleasing.

Tags: Doctor AU!, Obstetrician Gynecologist, Medical Kink, Professionals, Gifted Hands, POV First Person, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Self-Insert, Humor, Vaginal Fingering

Warnings: explicit, dubious consent, brief fat joke, mention of weight loss

Author's Notes: This fanfiction describes events where clear consent is not established, so to be safe, I have tagged it at dubious consent. L/N = Last name. Revisiting this reminded me I wrote a second chapter that I never posted! I'll have to circle back on that.

Read it on AO3 here!

You flinched, unable to control your labored breath now as you whimpered. "D-doctor I'm starting to—" “—I apologize, it'll be just a bit longer. I believe I may have felt something."

This thin paper gown left you feeling a bit cold and overexposed for your liking.

You heard what sounded like people talking outside your room followed by a short knock, and somebody stepped in.

"Are you well?" His voice brought a tightness to your chest.

"Yes, Dr. Banner."

He pulled open the privacy curtain and the strong scent of either his cologne, aftershave, hair gel, or a fragrant blend of all three wafted across your face.

He smiled gently, his pearly whites threatening the vibrance of that of his lab coat.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Fine." You replied, a bit too briskly.

"Oh, just fine? Well, maybe I can do something about that."

I hope you can do a couple things with those gifted hands.

He took a seat in a rolling stool beside a computer desk and promptly began typing into a file that appeared to be about you.

"So I understand you've been experiencing some pain in your pelvis?"

"Yes, Dr. Banner."

"Can you describe this pain?"

"Well, it's sorta like a sharp poking feeling at the opening of my vagina. It's less pain and more of a discomfort."

"Hmm, okay, so this discomfort you're experiencing, is this something you experience consistently, is it only when you sit?"

"Um..." You paused, dropping your shoulders as you examined the floor.

"I only feel it after I uh—reaching orgasm."

His fervent typing paused, which alarmed you, however his eyes never left the screen.

"Are you currently sexually active?"

You squirmed, "Um, what do you mean by sexually active?"

He crossed his knees and scooted closer to you, his undivided attention so powerful, it made your stomach ache.

"By sexually active, I mean, have you, in the past 4 weeks, participated in any sexual activities that may include clitoral stimulation or vaginal insertion?"

"Oh, yes."

"Thank you." He nodded quietly, and scooted back to begin typing at his computer again.

"Please, excuse me, I'm just taking down some notes. I'll only be a moment, then we can continue moving forward with your exam."

Your heart's upper chamber must've heard that because it skipped an entire beat.

An exam? I didn't think I'd need an exam. I thought I'd just stick a swab up my concha and go.

His clipboard rested comfortably in his lap as he turned and approached you again, this time, his posturing a bit more intimate.

"Would you mind if I did a brief examination? This would involve a visual exam of your vulva, clitoris, and labia, and an internal exam where I'd insert my fingers into your vagina and check for any abnormalities."

You hadn't even been fully listening. You'd gotten lost tracing the grey streaks that decorated his hairline and panicked a bit.

Also, Dr. Banner does this thing where he uses his hands a lot when he speaks, and unknowingly has been 👉👌-ing this entire time.

"Abnor...malities?"

"Yes, so any unexpected lumps, foreign objects, things of that nature."

You fiddled with your gown for a moment, a bit unsure.

"I can assure you, I've done exams like this a countless number of times and you're in good health, you haven't had any children, and you seem fairly responsible, so I can't foresee running into any issues."

He smiled, and for the betterment of your vagina, you decided to say yes.

"Great. A nurse will be back in to escort you to your exam room where you'll be instructed to sit back with your legs in stirrups. Are you comfortable with that?"

"Yes, Dr. Banner."

The next room you were escorted to was much smaller and a lot more intimate. The lights were dim and your stirrups were cold, but the room felt air tight and warm.

You couldn't hear anyone from inside so when Dr. Banner knocked, you were a bit startled before answering.

"Come in."

He still had that gentle smile on his face as he entered.

"Thanks for being patient. Give me a second to get prepped and we can begin."

You nodded, trying to slow your heartbeat as you heard the sink run shortly before the snap of his latex gloves.

He took a seat in front of you, a clear unlabeled bottle in hand.

"Alright, first I'll begin with the external exam. Please let me know if you experience any discomfort."

You nodded, your cheeks, ears, and face growing 20% warmer.

The sight of Dr. Banner between your open legs was simply too much for you to handle. You took to laying back against the reclined chair and looking away.

"Feeling okay? I'm just going to adjust these stirrups a bit. Let me know if you experience any discomfort." He asked, hidden behind your gown.

"Yes, Dr. Banner."

Your legs were promptly stretched wide, just enough that you could feel a cool breeze on your spread labia.

He took a seat in front of you and began to fill the silence with small talk.

"So, how were the holidays?"

"Um, pretty good, I got a pillow from my great aunt."

"Hey, that's pretty practical. You know what I got? All my coworkers chipped in and got me a home gym set."

"Wow. That's super generous."

"I know huh? I love it so much, but you know, I wonder if maybe they just secretly wanted me to lose a few pounds."

Not fond of fat jokes, you gave your most sarcastic, robotic laugh and he chuckled.

His warm breath tickled your thighs and you couldn't help it, the image of Dr. Banner's mouth so close to your pussy made you feel—

Your clit throbbed.

You felt it.

It definitely throbbed.

Fuck me. Maybe he wasn't watching?

All of these ideas ran through your head before he cleared his throat, shocking you back into reality.

He stood up and somehow seeing him once again rekindled the inferno of blood rushing in your face.

"Alright. Everything looks great. Now all that's left is the internal exam. Is there anything you need from me?"

Please choke me until I fall unconscious.

"No. Thank you Dr. Banner."

"Great, then let's jump right into it. I'm going to be applying some water based lube to your vagina, it may be a bit cold, but it'll warm up shortly after contact."

He looked down and you heard what sounded like a bottle cap opening, followed by the squirt of a healthy dose of lubricant.

"I'm going to apply it to your vagina now."

As his fingers made contact you were alarmed by the sudden sliminess of the lube as well as the warmth of his fingers bleeding through his gloves.

You bit your lips, staring up at the ceiling, trying desperately to avoid eye contact.

"Ok. I'm going to insert my finger now. Let me know if you experience any discomfort."

You nodded, gripping the edges of your seat, concentrating on regulating your breath as his wet, thick finger slowly slipped in.

You abandoned your prior plans and held your breath as you felt his knuckle brush against you and his finger begin to explore inside your hole.

He glanced down at you for a moment and his mere gaze made your skin tingle.

"Are you experiencing any discomfort?"

You shook your head, fervently.

"Good. Do any of the movements I'm making with my fingers replicate the discomfort you mentioned before?"

His finger dipped in as deep as possible, hooking up and pressing right against your G-spot.

You finally exhaled as your skin began to buzz with a familiar warmness of your impending orgasm.

"N-no." You moaned, breathily.

"Hmm." He muttered, he shifted his hand and now his knuckle brushed against your clit as he stirred inside you.

You flinched, unable to control your labored breath now as you whimpered.

"D-doctor I'm starting to—"

“—I apologize, it'll be just a bit longer. I believe I may have felt something."

Every time his glove grazed your clit you throbbed uncontrollably, your walls beginning to constrict around him.

He slowly pulled his finger out, having mercy on you, before you heard the cap of the bottle pop open and shut.

"I need to apply more lube. It should only take a second. Please mind the coldness."

This time his two fingers slid into you with a wet, sticky squelch, his thumb smearing your clit with lube.

You whined unbridled, your nails piercing the cushion seat as your hips snapped.

"Please, try to remain composed for the duration of the exam, Miss L/N. It'll be over very shortly."

"Mmm-s-sorry Doctor."

His two fingers ground against your G-spot, his thumb rubbing tiny, incidental circles on your clit.

"Miss L/N, you're grinding into my hand."

You panted, your feet trembling in your stirrups.

"I'm— D-doctor B-anner." You pleaded, holding his gentle, searing gaze before you threw your head back, the dim lights of the ceiling blinding you as you came.

Dr. Banner waited patiently as your walls thrashed around his fingers before slowly relaxing.

You gazed dazedly at the dim fluorescent lights, before your eyes came to focus on Dr. Banner who had removed his gloves and now stood beside you.

"Did you feel any pain at all during this exam?"

"No, Dr. Banner." Your voice a bashful whisper.

"Did you experience any discomfort as you achieved orgasm?"

"No, Dr. Banner."

"How do you feel as of now?"

You blinked, a sarcastic tone in your voice. "Empty."

He showed a restrained smile, chuckling a bit as he adjusted his glasses.

There was a quick, jaunty knock at the door and in stepped a man in scrubs, a procedure mask, and a surgeon's cap on.

"Hello, hello, hello." He sang, giving you a short wave, before scribbling on his clipboard.

As if Dr. Banner knew this man, for the first time, he broke into informalities.

"What's with the get up?"

The man paused, cocking his head at Dr. Banner, before ultimately choosing not to respond to his comment.

"Bruce. Have you given your lovely patient a proper diagnosis?"

Dr. Banner came around to stand at the end of your chair, the other man joined him before speaking.

"Unfortunately I wasn't able to determine the source of your discomfort, Miss L/N, so I decided to ask a colleague for a second opinion. I believe you may have heard of him? His name is Dr. Stark. He runs this practice."

"Greetings, Miss L/N. I presume your exam went well?" He glanced knowingly at Dr. Banner before his crows feet scrunched up into his smile.

You nodded before Dr. Stark turned toward Dr. Banner.

"Dr. Banner, I suggest that we do some further examinations to ensure that your patient is no longer experiencing any pain or discomfort during orgasm. I recommend 30 minutes of heavy oral stimulus. Do you concur, Doctor?"

Dr. Banner faced toward you and for the first time, his demeanor shifted from one of utmost professionalism to one of lascivious mischief.

"Yes, I concur."

Read the fic on AO3! | Read more of my fics on Tumblr | Patreon | Website

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello! How have you been lately? I hope you sleep well and eat tasty food!

I wanted to participate in your new blog event. I want to see interaction between ~deadbeat dad~ Crowley and our dear uncles, ghosts from Ramshackle dorm. You can decide which topic they will be talking about, I just wanna see ghosts more in twst fandom. They're so rare to see and it upsets me(ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू) give more application to our ghosts! 👻👻👻

(I hope I wrote this right how it supposed to be wrote in this event. Sorry for grammar errors)

... I was going to include the Ramshackle Ghosts in the banner, but couldn't find any chibi sprites of them that were high res enough to use. That's it, that's my commentary 🙂

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

Ramshackle was a marked improvement from its sorry state in the autumn. The cobwebs, dust, and mildew had been cleared away, as if done by the hand of a benevolent fairy godmother. Rotting wood had been replaced with fresh panels, and the walls were coated with a glossy new color. The paintings and furniture had either been restored or replaced, antiques polished and set back up on display.

It's almost like Ramshackle before its ruin, Crowley noted, shutting the door behind him.

He strutted a few paces in, his cane clacking sharply against the floorboards. Crowley cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the foyer, then called out. "Ghosts?"

A reply came at once, accompanied by a cool sensation spiderwalking down Crowley's spine. This, he knew, was the telltale sign of a supernatural being's arrival.

Three pale bodies materialized before him. One tall and scrawny, the second small and compact, and the third wide and squat. Each ghost--A, B, and C--wore a top hat and a cloak.

"Mweeheehee... You rang, headmaster?"

"Aaah, there's my lovely Ramshackle trio!!" Crowley cooed, spreading his arms out with a flourish. "Good afternoon! I hope you're doing well."

"As well as we can be in the afterlife," Ghost A cackled.

"We weren't expecting visitors," C remarked.

"What brings ya here?" B floated around Crowley in a circle. "Rare for you to drop on by for a casual visit."

"Ah, that." He thoughtfully stroked at his chin. "Today is Family Day at Night Raven College and--well--I figure that you three upstanding gentlemen count as the guardians of our dear Prefect and Grim-kun. You live under the same roof, share household responsibilities, and have a deep bond. You may not be related by blood, but this arrangement could classify as a 'found family'. That would make you eligible to sit in at parent-teacher conferences."

"Oooh, are we being invited to the event?" Ghost A asked excitedly. "I was popular with the ladies back in my day, but I didn’t have the chance to do something like this. Never did manage settle down..."

"Can we really be where the people are?" B chimed in. "It's been a while since we got to stretch our ectoplasm. When was the last time? Halloween, was it?"

"But all those meetings sound like a bore," complained C. "You sure we can't just scare the daylights out of the parents and siblings instead?"

"There will be NO scaring the daylights out of anyone!" Crowley stopped himself and smoothed down his feathers. "As you can imagine, I'm a very busy man and I haven't got all day! Please make your decisions now."

The Ramshackle Ghosts glanced at one another. Murmurs passed between them.

"Well... They don't have anyone else but us, do they? Because Yuu-kun is from another world and Grimmy doesn't remember where he came from."

"They've always been there for us when we needed them the most. We've had so much fun together too. Keeping us company, playing magift, celebrating Halloween and the winter holidays..."

"It'd be sad if they were the only ones left out of Family Day. No one likes being excluded from the festivities."

Silence. Then mutual understanding lit up their eyes. The answer was staring at them right in the face this entire time.

"We'll do it!!" the ghosts cried in unison.

Crowley's lips curved upward. "A most excellent choice. Yuu-kun and Grim-kun are so very fortunate to have a family as loving as this."

[rrozeta]

hello everyone!! thank you so much for so many followers whether ur my mutual or not im really grateful for people deciding to hit the follow button!! I'm beyond grateful for all the support, encouragement and interactions! :3

with the poll that i hosted, people have voted for a prompt event so here it is :D hopefully you can participate and if you can't it's alright! I hope you give the others who participate in this event reblogs then ^^. Tag me in your submission so i can see it or use the tag #rrozeta1200.

now how are the winners be decided? a wheel spin, if you do 2 prompts for 2 days you will be able to enter the raffle! Completing the whole event will let you enter the raffle twice! The rewards for second place will be 1 replycon/icon/banner template of your choice, a set of icons and a psd. First place will be a tumblr layout, 1 replycon template, 1 replycon/icon/banner template of your choice and a psd. (sorry if the rewards may not be much </3)

event will start at 20 December and end on 28 December. prompts below.

「 ୨୧ day 1 」 colour blast!

-> make an edit with ONLY vibrant colours or it seemed like a unicorn vommited over it.

「 ୨୧ day 2 」 back in my day...

-> remake your OLDEST edit (can be from ur old edit blog or ur current one) OR remake an edit ur not proud of

「 ୨୧ day 3 」 heart racing

-> edit your FIRST fictional crush!

「 ୨୧ day 4 」 lovers rock

-> edit a ship that is your absolute favourite!

「 ୨୧ day 5 」 the first snow

-> make a gift for ur friend! Since this will be Christmas day.

may i please ask for a promo? :D

@kiochisato @ethereabun @imbermagnvs @ivaeow @wavyskies @rottenfram3 @tirxie @infectedrpd @iivan-ns @s-sanite @shinjirx @sunkupng @selysie @flwrdoe @haloviianz @l4verdoe @llocket @lavendergalactic @cutelvr @castitism @venusgfie @buni-cheri @nomkiwi @mizuki-irl @amarehusband @hyunasita @mizuki-irl (+anyone willing to promo!! :3 ask to be removed. )

[thought--bubble]

In Need of an Heir Pt 6

Canon Aemond X (Baratheon! Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 1,778

In Need of an Heir Masterlist

Canon Aemond Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Warnings:: Alcohol consumption, a lot of Dialogue.

You hesitate for a moment, trying to decide whether or not it was smart to dull your senses with wine when you were in such a precarious position.

"The wine is safe." He takes a sip and raises his eyebrow.

"Do you have parchment?" you ignore the wine cup he is extending toward you.

He furrows his brows. "I do"

"A quill? Ink?" You pass by him as he is still holding out the wine to you, moving toward the desk tucked in the corner of the room.

"Yes.....?" He watches your movements tipping his head to the side.

"We should start on that list we discussed before......." You start digging around the desk. "Before anything should happen...." You look toward the bedchamber "here. "

Aemond sighs. "We don't have to actually write anything down at the moment." he walks over to the chair before the fireplace, motioning for you to sit in the adjacent chair. "Let us discuss"

You huff briefly and then concede, plopping yourself into the chair and looking at him wearily.

"So list some things...." he waves his hand, trying to think of what to say next. "That will bring you joy"

This isn't going exactly how you pictured it. You were thinking this list would be more like a set of rules, while he seems to think this list is more of a shopping list.

"Honesty." You look him dead in the eye. "I do not wish to be lied to or made a fool of."

He clicks his tongue and nods his head. "I see"

"Is that something you can manage?" You tap your foot impatiently.

"Of course it is. Are you entirely sure that is what you want? The truth can be..... unpleasant. " he crosses his legs.

"Yes, well.... at least it's real, " You shift uncomfortably in your seat.

"Is there a specific event you are looking for clarification on? Or is this a general request?" He clenches his jaw tightly in annoyance.

"It is a general request. Although...... there are a few things that could use clarification" You look up toward the ceiling of the room, avoiding his gaze.

He clicks his tongue and grips the arms of the chair tightly. "Is that so? If there are things you wish to ask me, then ask. I shall be honest, though, I warn you that my answers may not please your delicate disposition"

You breathe deeply and bite your bottom lip. You have a feeling this won't end well, though you feel a gnawing need to know the truth on a selection of matters.

"Did you kill your nephew on purpose?" You pick at your fingernail beds and look down at your hands in your lap awaiting his response.

His tone is cold and lacking any empathy. "I did not. Although I did not regret it nor did I feel any remorse. I only felt regret for events that took place due to his death. Not his death itself"

"It wasn't regrettable to you that your nephew fell to your hand?" You look at him with disbelief. He couldn't possibly be this cold? Surely, he felt something for the death of his nephew. "You felt no emotions at all?"

"Relief, mayhaps surprise, but regret and remorse were not felt and still are not felt." He sips his wine nonchalantly as if this topic simply bored him.

You bite your cheek. This was not the answer you had hoped for. You thought if he felt regret that he would have a heart, a soul, instead he is cold and cruel. Just as you have imagined.

"Did you marry? That.... woman? Am I a second wife?"

His head snaps toward you as his voice darkens, "There is no shame in being a second wife" His words come out like venom, making you recoil slightly

"I did not say that there was, I just wish to know if I am"

"No. You are not. I did not marry her. " Now it is him who looks off to the side, avoiding eye contact.

"Yet you did bed her," you try to make sure you say this gently. Using an accusatory tone could close him off, and you were happy that he was actually speaking.

He sighs and clicks his tongue again, and nods. "Yes"

"Why? If you were already betrothed. Why embarrass me publicly with such shameful behavior?" You truly didn't care that he slept with this woman, you were not in love with him, neither him with you, yet he flaunted it about embarrassing you and your house and for that, you felt at the very least you deserved an explanation.

"Because I wanted to," He states this with conviction yet keeps his face angled from you. "I apologize that I do not have a better reason to offer you. You require honesty and that you shall receive. I was not thinking of the embarrassment you would suffer."

You swallow and scrunch your nose, fighting the look of anger that threatens to take over your face. "Did you love this woman?" You thought maybe if he loved her, then your embarrassment and shame would have been in the name of love, and that would perhaps be easier to forgive.

" I can not be sure. I cared for her, yes, yet I am not entirely sure if love in the sense of which you are questioning is something I am truly capable of" he swirls the wine in his cup around In a circular motion.

You feel a pang in your chest. How could he not know if he is capable of love?

"Did she love you?" Your voice is more gentle and soft, and this catches Aemond's attention as he turns his head to you, and his features soften minimally.

He answers with sadness. "She said she did. But it can't be disputed that she was under diress. When fighting to stay alive, one might say and do anything."

You sit in your chair and lean forward on your elbows, contemplating his words. The pain in his voice confused and surprised you, yet his answer frustrated you.

"So you are telling me that you will never love me? You will not love our children?" Your foot is tapping again. The thought of being stuck married to a man who couldn't even learn to love you eventually felt like a fate worse than death.

"I am telling you that I do not know. I hope to. That is the best I can offer. " He turns his head from you again.

" I would like some of that wine now." You look towards him a look of frustration on your face. You had gotten the truth, but it somehow made you feel worse. You had suspected he was cold and cruel yet it was an entirely different feeling to have him confirm it.

He gets up from his chair and brings you the cup of wine he had poured for you earlier. "I will remain loyal to you, and our children. That is something I can promise, I will protect you against all others. A courtesy my own father did not extend to me"

You take the cup from his hands and start to drink it quickly. After you finish the cup you stand up. "I wish to retire to my chambers" As you go to walk past him to exit the room he quickly wraps his hand around your wrist.

"Not yet." He keeps his head turned from you and his eye trained on the floor. "We have not performed our duty yet."

You cringe "Is that entirely necessary? Does it truly matter if it is done today or tomorrow?"

"My family is in need of an heir. That was the entire purpose of this rushed wedding, and the future of my house, our house, depends on this." He tugs you close to him by your wrist pulling you up against his chest.

You look up at his cold, stoic expression and directly into that lavender eye. You see his expression soften as he gazes down at you.

"I will be kind, I will be gentle, I will not harm you nor will I let others harm you." He pushes a lock of hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear. "You need not fear me, we alone, you and I, are responsible for the fate of House Targaryen"

He leans down and places a very gentle kiss on your lips, and your heart jumps. He brushes his thumb across your cheekbone and cradles your face in his hand.

"Come, let me show you I can be trusted." he takes your hand, leading you toward the bed chamber. Your feet seemed to float when earlier they felt like you were wearing iron shoes.

He sits on the edge of the bed and motions for you to sit beside him. You slowly lower yourself to sit beside him. Your back is rigid as you pick at your fingernails. He places his hand over yours.

"Don't do that."

You huff annoyed trying to pull your hands out from underneath his.

"I told you, I won't let anyone harm you. That includes yourself. " he gently rubs the tips of your fingers.

You both sit in silence, before he sighs loudly.

"I truly thought I was going to die"

You raise your eyebrows as he says this.

"What?"

He runs a hand down his face. "During the war, house Targaryen, we were dying one by one, i thought I would meet my end and would never have to stand in judgment for my sins." He lays back on the bed flat.

You turn to look at him lying down and then a small smile creeps onto your face as you lay back next to him, the two of you just staring up at the canopy above you.

"Me too"

He turns on his side and looks at you. "You thought you wouldn't survive the war?"

You giggle. "No. I thought YOU wouldn't survive the war"

He chuckles and lies on his back again. "My apologies"

You take his hand that is lying limply by his side and slide your fingers into his palm. He turns his head to the side, confused at this show of kindness. You just continue holding his hand and staring up at the canopy above you.

You giggle and turn your head so both of you are looking directly at each other.

"So we have to save house Targaryen, huh? Dragon needs a doe. " You smile to yourself.

He sighs and chuckles. "Dragon needs a doe"

Part 7

To be added to taglist click here

[the-beard-of-edward-teach]

I have just realized that I do, in fact, have a wip now and can participate in this for the first time! so I made this lil banner really fast (took at least an hour so idk if fast is the right word 😭)

This is the fic I just started writing for COBB 2025, which is both the first fandom event I'm participating, and is the first fic I am writing for this fandom (and the second fic ever that im writing) (even though this is my favorite fandom I've always been too scared to write anything)

big thank you to @roomwithanopenfire @thewholelemon @monbons and @fiend-for-culture for sprinting with me yesterday because without that, I wouldn't have much of a wip right now

I might be rambling too much so here's some Baz pov:

That’s nearly on par with the dragon he slew. Typical. Swing first, think never. That’s Snow. I thought he was going to murder me—going out there and fighting in just his pyjama bottoms. If I didn’t have so much practice being subtle, I’d be surprised he didn’t see me staring—prickle be damned.

you can pry em-dashes from my cold dead hands

also, the "prickle" will make sense in due time 😌 i thought it'd be best to choose a low-detail snippet that I enjoyed

okay. checklist for wip wednesdays: my goofy lil banner, check; words, check; words that the post is about, check

so i think all that's left for me to do is tag people? i'm not sure who to tag so i think i'll just tag everyone i can think of (please let me know if you don't want to be tagged in the future! i'm trying to figure out the etiquette and don't want to bother anyone)

@mecub @argumentativeantitheticalg @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 @leithillustration @carryonmybloodylovelies @ebbpettier @trinityprocessing @asocialpessimist @best--dress @pidgelikethebird @shrekgogurt @krisrix @artsyunderstudy @cosmicalart @simonscones @doll-pparts @lovelyladzzzz @iamamythologicalcreature @terra-fae @paper-beats-writers-block @prettygoododds @dragoneggos @cutestkilla @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @cattocavo @rimeswithpurple @cccloudsss @letraspal @valeffelees @sourcherryscones28 @noblecorgi @martsonmars @blackberrysummerblog @aristocratic-otter @nextblood

okay i hope i did this right 😅