#she probably does have a change of heart eventually too

[idksmtms]

I Sit And Watch You... (tolerate it p2) (Daemon Targaryen x Niece/Wife!reader, Criston Cole x reader) - evermore series

P1: tolerate it

A/N: After intense and popular demand, I decided to write a part 2 to ‘tolerate it’ even though the goal for the series was one fic per song… ANYWAY! I hope you guys enjoy it! And sorry that it took me so long but I went soooo overboard writing this… 

Summary: After the realisation that your husband not only does not love you, but has been in love with your sister since before you were even married, you feel adrift in the world. But then suddenly, like a flame appearing in the dark of night, your heart is reignited by someone. This poses an entirely different problem for your poor little heart. 

Word count: ~17k (my god...)

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, Rhaenyra’s younger sister, canon typical incest, INCEST, age gap, unrequited love, angst, like a lot of angst, like ANGSTTTT, depictions of depression, bedrotting due to depression, cheating, insecurity, self-hatred, self-abuse, SMUT, PinV sex, oral (f!receiving), sex-related shame, feeling shame after having sex, just really sad tbh, forbidden relationship, probably OOC characters but I honestly can’t give a shit bc I want to write angst, probs typos (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

You weren’t sure how long you drifted between sleep and wakefulness in the dark comfort of your bed. Every few hours one of the maids would poke their head through the crack in the curtains and ask if you were alright, if you wanted or needed anything. Sometimes you wouldn’t answer, would simply stare off into the distance as if you were watching worlds they could not see. Other times you would shake your head despondently, slow and stiff, your eyes not moving from the spot they had latched onto. 

Once you had turned to look at the young girl standing at the side of your bed, the curtains pulled back a little and her frowning face shadowed by the sun from behind her. You had simply stared into her face and your eyes had slowly begun to fill with tears until she panicked and slid the curtain shut and rushed out of your room. 

You never wanted anything, never needed anything, the maids noticed. They could see tear tracks on your cheeks from time to time, could see the dampness of it on your pillows, and they often muttered to each other about your state, but not a word was said to anyone unless they took notice of it themselves. 

The entire week you stayed in your bed, your father knew nothing of your state. He had washed his hands of you the second you had been married off to Daemon, and his sole focus in his slowly dwindling life was Rhaenyra. He had asked after you only once and received the response that you weren’t feeling particularly well. He had frowned, asked the maids to keep an eye on you, and left it at that. 

Rhaenyra, hearing of your sudden sickness had come to inquire after you but had received no response from the curtained bed and had felt too awkward around you since your wedding to even try and breach your little confinement. She had stood just beside the bed for a few moments, head tilted up to the ceiling as she tried to think of something, anything, to say but eventually just sighed and wished you well before hurrying out of the room. 

Alicent came by to visit you once every day. After hearing of you taking to your bed on the first day and refusing your meals by the evening, she had told Ser Criston to take up a post outside your door and inform her of any changes. She always came to sit on the edge of your bed for an hour to simply watch you or offer idle words about her days. She liked to believe you only responded to her, for you would often simply grasp her hand with shaking fingers as she sat with you, and closed your eyes to listen to whatever she had to say. But despite her best efforts, her gentle words to try and convince you to get out of bed or to at least change out of your nightgown went unanswered. 

Daemon visited you once in the entire week you were abed. When you had not shown yourself for dinner on the first evening, he had asked for the maidservant to check on you. He had become accustomed to having meals with you, to the comforting drone of chatter in the background while he sat at the table, and it felt freakishly odd not to have it. Though he was often described as a chaotic person, he was disciplined, and once set in a routine enjoyed keeping it that way. 

When the maids returned with a quiet “the Princess said she is not feeling well and has gone to her bed early”, he had simply shrugged and moved on, eating his meal while reading a scroll on the Valyrian histories. But then you were nowhere to be found on the second day, and the third, and when half of the fourth passed and he heard whispers of your complete absence from all of your duties, a tingle of discomfort had settled itself in the pit of his stomach. He wouldn’t say he was worried about you, but something in the air suddenly felt off and he wanted it fixed as soon as possible. The world being out of order simply wouldn’t do. 

In the sunlight hour just before dusk, when everything was bathed in a yellow slowly turning to orange and gave the world a warm hazy glow, he marched all the way to your chambers (the ones he had been supposed to share with you). When he had found Criston Cole standing guard at your door, he had almost snarled out loud like a disgruntled dog. He paused for a moment, grimacing as if someone had just put a lime in his mouth without his consent, and then pushed through the doors before remembering you were unwell and might be sleeping. He became quieter then, turning slowly to close the door behind himself and walking with light footsteps. 

Though it was still daytime, your room was pitch dark, illuminated only by the thin cracks of light that peeped between the curtains. His eyebrows furrowed, hands clenched into fists at his sides as he searched the room for any threat but found nothing in the low light. When he found the curtains around your bed closed, his heart began to thump wildly in his chest. For a moment, when he reached out and gently grasped the edges, he wondered what he would find in the bed. Would there be a corpse, rotten and shrivelled from how long it had been there? Or would there be an assassin, an attacker ready to pounce as soon as he illuminated them? 

He pulled the curtain back only enough to look through with one eye, but what he found was nothing more than the sad sight of a girl asleep in her bed. Though it was warm in the room, becoming almost stifling, you were under the covers. You were on your side, curled around the pillow you clutched tightly in your arms, and for a second he imagined that that’s what you would look like in bed with someone. Your hair was splayed out behind you messily, all over the pillow and some strands fallen upon your cheeks. Your mouth was parted just a little, lips moving with soft steady breaths. Your cheeks were flushed, and he could see the shine of sweat creeping forward from the back of your neck. 

He wasn’t sure exactly how long he stood there, watching you sleep, but he had found it difficult to tear himself away. How did one manage to look so sad while asleep? He wondered as he noticed the puffiness around your eyes and the way your fingers clenched into the pillow as if it would be taken from you at any moment. 

There seemed to be nothing else wrong with you, no gauntness in your cheeks or skin rash in sight, no visible ailment from how much of your body he could glean, but he decided to find the maester before the day was over. He left as quietly as he had entered, tucking the curtain closed again and shooting Criston a sneer as he came back out and strode down the hallway trying to remember where the maesters kept their quarters. 

You were in your bed for a week, leaving only to use the chamber pot behind the changing dividers before clambering right back into your bed. All your meals were brought in and left on the little table just beside your bed, and for the first three days were returned to the kitchens untouched. It was only after the third day went by, when Christys, once your nursemaid and later a kitchen hand when you had no more need of her as a child, noticed your third breakfast returning without even a nibble and made her way up to your chambers. 

She gently pulled your curtain back and stared at your pathetic little figure curled up under the sheets and sleeping though it was midday. Your eyelids were puffy and dark circles had begun forming under your eyes despite how much you seemed to have been resting. She placed the tray on the little table then sat down on the edge of the bed, just as she had once done when you were sick as a child. Her old weathered face was pulled into a worried frown and she gently reached out and caressed your head. Your eyes opened instantly, it appeared that you hadn’t been sleeping after all, and you watched her as if you had never seen her before. She smiled, or tried to, and caressed your cheeks with a little hum. 

“Little princess,” she called kindly, and you felt the urge to reach out and caress her face, all the wrinkles that had appeared since you had been a child under her care. Her skin was beginning to sag a little around her neck and cheeks and her face was all soft and pudgy, as you imagined a grandmother’s to be like. 

She did not try to convince you to leave the confines of your bed, to come out where the sun was shining and to leave the melancholia behind. She simply told you that if you would like to sit up a little, she would help you drink a sip of water, eat a bite of food, and perhaps you would feel a little better once you lay down again. 

You nodded, just one little dip of your head, and allowed her to help you shift your body up a little so you were sitting up against the mound of pillows. You reeked of sweat and the slightly sour smell that came from a stagnant room. Your hair was beginning to get matted and greasy but you did not seem to care about a thing, did not even notice it all. 

Christys brought the goblet to your lips, smiling joyfully as you began to take sips, then gulps as the thirst you had ignored took control of your body. You finished two full goblets before you were sated and lay back on the bed with your eyes closed for a moment, heaving as if you had been running through the halls with Rhaenyra as you had once done as children. Christys gently caressed your head, smiling fondly as you leaned into her touch. 

“Would you like to eat something, little princess?” She asked quietly, and you only opened your eyes. You looked unsure, as if you were aware of the world around you for the first time, and she didn’t give you the chance to refuse, simply brought the plate into her lap, spooned up a little bit of the broth, and brought it to your lips. Slowly, you opened your mouth and accepted it, humming softly when you realised it was the slightly spicy southern soup she used to make for you when you were sad as a child. 

You looked at Christys with your big eyes wide open, as if you were waiting for something, and she almost began to cry. That was exactly how you used to look at her when you were just six summers old, eyes wide, mouth open, as you waited for her to feed you another bite. But there had been nothing so despondent about you back then, no air of defeat hanging around you. What had happened to you that you became like that child again? 

Christys smiled at you, a thin watery smile, and held up the spoon again, watching you swallow the broth once more and gently saying “my good girl”, squeezing your hand in commendation as you allowed your lips to relax and smile for the first time since you had entered the bed. 

Once you had finished about half the meal, you shook your head and slowly began sliding back down under the covers. Christys simply nodded and placed the plate back on the tray. She gently took a hold of the covers and pulled them up until your chin, tucking them in a little around you before bending down and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

“Rest well, my sweet princess,” she whispered, and when you closed your eyes, you finally looked serene. 

On the fourth day, just as night fell, a maester came to see you. You were sat up in bed again after Christys had come to feed you your dinner and had decided to stay sat up even as she left to bring the tray back down to the kitchens. Though the despondency hadn’t left you still, you felt marginally better now after eating and being doted upon by both Alicent and Christys. 

You still had no plans to leave your bed, you had become very quickly accustomed to the little space you had created for yourself in it, and were suddenly beginning to feel a debilitating sense of worry every time you imagined stepping foot outside of it and facing the rest of the world. Despite this, after your second day of proper meals, you were considering reaching out of your little cave and grabbing for a scroll or tome you might have left upon your little table if something still happened to be there. 

But just as you had finally resolved to do so, you heard the doors open and one of your maids announced that a maester had come to see you. You said nothing, hoping perhaps that your lack of an answer would send them away, but one curtain was simply pulled back and the maester gazed down at you. You looked up at him with wide eyes, as if you had been caught doing something you should not have been doing, but he smiled gently and came closer as you gulped in fright. 

“Your highness, word is that you have been taken ill for the past few days,” he spoke jovially, as if hoping his joking tone would heal you, but you simply shook your head and dipped it down to look at your lap. 

“Thank you for coming maester,” your voice was hoarse and croaky from a lack of use, and you quickly grabbed the goblet that Christys had left on your table to both take soothing sips of water and give your hands something to do. “But your visit is unnecessary.” You tried to smile but it wouldn’t show, and eventually you looked up at him with earnest eyes, hoping he would leave as soon as you were done speaking. “Though, yes, it is true that I have been confined to the bed, it is myself that has done the confinement. What ails me is not a matter of the body, but one of the heart.” You chewed on your lip, feeling as if you had said too much, but the maester smiled understandingly and gestured to the edge of your bed as if asking to sit. You nodded. 

“Your highness, if I understand correctly, you have been in your first quarrel with your husband, and it has much affected you.” You began to shake your head, to open your mouth to deny his claim, but he went on without allowing space for interjection. “But it is the way of marriages to have disagreements. You and your husband will likely have many more before the time of either of your deaths - gods willing it be a long time from now - but it is nothing to worry over so.” You pursed your lips and let him speak, hoping the spiel would end quickly and he would be out of your hair.  “And if you believe your actions have caused your husband to abandon his love for you, then know that it is he who came himself to find me and instruct me to visit you out of concern for your wellbeing.” He smiled almost triumphantly, and began standing from the bed as if he had solved everything already, but you looked up at him with a little frown. 

“Daemon went to you?” Your voice was small, confused, and he nodded quickly. 

“Yes, just as the sun set he found me and told me that you had not been out of bed for four days and nights and to heal you at once.” You nodded, not knowing what to say, and watched him walk out of the room, disgruntled that he had not closed the curtain behind himself. 

You were unsure as to the weird churning in your heart. It was all warm and giddy at the thought of Daemon being concerned for you, visiting you while you were asleep and then hunting the maester down for you. It was an act of caring, if not love, and your poor battered heart already began to churn with hope that maybe he could love you if he did not already. But then you were seeing him leaned over Rhaenyra, hair flopping forward onto his forehead. You saw the way she twisted back and forth at the waist teasingly, eyes dancing with mischief as she bit her lip and waited for him to bend down and kiss her silly. 

The hope crashed, the despondency returned, and the cycle began once more until you felt you were going mad and began smacking your head against the pillows until your brain felt physically shaken. You wanted to cry, but you were all cried out. You wanted to scream, but you had no voice. You wanted to run, but you couldn’t move. In the end, you lay back on the bed with your eyes closed and let your mind spiral. 

Why did he not love you? What was it you had done that made you unworthy of love? Or maybe it was not what you had done, but what you hadn’t. You hadn’t been pretty enough; you were always noticing blemishes on your skin or fat in places there shouldn’t be or the fact that all of your mother’s beauty had been inherited by Rhaenyra, the realm’s delight, your father’s precious and beautiful child, while you were left to yourself without compliment or radiance. You weren’t funny enough; you never had a joke on hand to tell, you weren’t confident enough to tell it anyway. You couldn’t command a room the way Rhaenyra could, or make everyone burst out with laughter at the simplest of words. You always felt stupid despite the amount of time you spent reading or conversing with maesters or travellers. You weren’t loving enough; your smile didn’t instil warmth in the hearts of others, perhaps your kind words weren’t kind enough or your efforts to demonstrate your love were not worthy enough. You simply hadn’t been enough. 

The final two days you spent in your bed, you spent thinking. What would you do when you were eventually forced back into the world? How would you continue on? It was obvious that you could not stay hiding in the little world you had created for yourself, if only because you desperately needed to bathe or had begun wanting to visit the library to pick your next read. You didn’t find the answer while still in your bed, but on the sixth day, Christys finally convinced you to get out and properly stretch your legs before having a bath. 

“A good stretch, a nice warm bath, getting dressed in your prettiest clothes, will do wonders for you little princess. You may not feel all the way better, but something will have changed and you will be the better for it.” You had nodded, thanking her in a small voice and slipping out of the bed as she went to get the maids to start your bath. 

You shivered when your feet touched the cold stone, and though your muscles were stiff at first, it felt good to walk the length of the room over and over until your weakened legs began to shake. You had pushed the curtains back not only on the bed, but on the windows too and had felt your spirits lift as the afternoon sunshine filled your room. 

When all the maids came in to fill the tub set at the side of your room, they smiled with relief and tittered over the state of you. With the sunshine and the friendly faces and jovial chatter, your mood began to rise again and despite the ever-present sadness that still lingered in the back of your mind, you felt good for a little while. 

They steeped you in the bath like you were tea, letting your skin become pruny as they washed your hair three times over, then scrubbed you down like you were one of the old dirty carpets from the storeroom. You felt pink and raw, like a new skin had emerged from under your old one and the world was a little brighter again. You even laughed when one of the maids made a joke about the habits of debauchery of one of the stableboys. 

You picked out a beautiful blush-pink dress that had been made from special fabric brought from Dorne. It was light and airy, designed more in the Dornish fashion leaving your shoulders and arms exposed except for thick straps that held the dress up on your upper arms. You twirled giddily in front of the mirror a few times before sitting down to have your hair done, you never could help yourself from it when you were in that dress. 

The maids enjoyed seeing you so alive again after the past week of worry and woe. They giggled happily and clapped for you, and were excited to do your hair. They weaved intricate braids and gathered some of them into a twist on the back of your head while leaving others to fall down your back over the last layer of your unbraided hair. They even wanted to rub rouge on your lips and cheeks and line your eyes but you had politely refused saying you were enjoying the feeling of being clean and fresh-faced, and would keep yourself that way for the rest of the day. Though you had been worrying about your beauty a few days prior, you knew you looked the way you did and couldn’t change it. If you weren’t pretty enough for Daemon, for anyone, you would simply have to learn to accept it and live with it, no matter how much you wished it to be otherwise. 

When you opened the doors to your room by yourself for the first time in a week, a little jittery to face the world once more, you were surprised by the guard who stood across the hall from your chambers. He was not your usual protector, the fresh faced Ser Arryk you had become used to, but a stoic faced Dornishman you believed you had seen trailing Rhaenyra before her wedding, but you couldn’t be sure. 

You gazed at him for a moment, at the shiny black eyes he averted to the floor as he bowed stiffly in his armour, the thick and beautiful hair combed perfectly back and the faint beard he sported around his mouth and over his jawlines, just past a stubble but not very much. His skin was beautiful and golden brown, like he had been born with the gentle touch of the sun, and for a moment you lost yourself while looking at him. He was exactly as you had imagined a knight to be, tall and dark and strong. He was limned with lethal power. 

You smiled, polite and surprised and small, and though he did not return it, only nodded in acknowledgement, you could see his face soften slightly and settle into something a little more gentle and blurred around the edges. You stepped a little closer, still a respectful distance from any man who was not your husband, and curtsied as if you were not the princess but a serving girl passing him in the halls. 

“Hello, Ser,” you began, voice almost whispery, “I mean not to offend, only to inquire where Ser Arryk has been off to and left you to his usual duties.” You were warm, and polite almost to a fault, Criston thought, and he had to purse his lips for a moment to stop a smile breaking out on his face at the innocent yet slightly smiley look you offered him. 

“Your highness, I am Ser Criston Cole,” and he bowed again as if he had not already done so when first laying eyes upon you, “and fret not about Ser Arryk shirking his duties. He has simply been posted elsewhere for the past week as the queen has personally asked me to oversee your protection while you were unwell.” 

“Oh,” you breathed out, smiling in both realisation and fondness as you thought about Alicent sacrificing her trusted guard for you. “The queen is a kind soul,” you spoke with reverence, smiling at the floor for a moment before looking back to him. He had been watching you the entire time, as if he simply could not avert his eyes lest you disappear in a cloud of smoke the second his attention was elsewhere. “Well, if you are still on duty as my protector, would you care to accompany me to the library for the afternoon? I am in desperate need of new reading material.” You asked it as if it was not his job to follow you everywhere you went, as if he needed convincing to accompany you and wasn’t under threat of being a deserter, a traitor to the crown if he refused. 

“Wherever you go, I will follow, your highness,” he stated simply, holding his hand out as if telling you to lead the way. You nodded in return, but stood still for a moment as if you were a bit dazed and lost in your surroundings. Then you shook your head a little, like a puppy shaking water off its fur, and continued down the hallway with your light, graceful steps. 

As you walked, Criston a stride behind, he watched you with curious (and apprehensive) eyes. You had always been a distant, rather obscure, figure in his life. Someone he walked past in the hallways of the Keep or only knew by name. When Rhaenyra had first chosen him to be a new member of the King’s Guard, he had been briefed on the entire immediate family, anyone who he could possibly be assigned to if he was not with Rhaenyra, and of course you had been included in it, but he had not been told much, and had never needed it either, for Rhaenyra took up so much of his time and never spent any of hers with you. Not once had he heard her mention her younger sister, nor meet with you for more than a moment in passing in the hallway during which he bent his head in respect and allowed you two your privacy.  

There was only one moment he remembered clearly from that time. He had been strolling through the gardens with Rhaenyra on an idle and rather humid afternoon. It felt like the entirety of King’s Landing had been poured in syrup, each movement one made was slow, lethargic, succumbing to the heat of the summer. Rhaenyra, still in her youthful blissfulness, her mischief knowing no bounds in her rebellion against her father and Alicent, had been slowly twisting her way down the path, twirling a plucked flower in her hands as he followed. She would occasionally speak to him, say something witty or sarcastic or give a boring observation about something or other, and he would hum or nod or offer whatever thought had conjured in his head at the time. Though it was boring, it was also comfortable. 

Then, a light tinkling laugh carried over the air making them both pause. They couldn’t see you yet, you were past the next curve and some bushes still hid the courtyard from which the laugh came. Rhaenyra paused where she was on the path, staring ahead and continuing to twirl the flower in her hand before turning around and walking back toward where he stood. 

“I have suddenly changed my mind,” she spoke quietly, eyes distant as she chewed on her lip, “perhaps finding a cool sitting room somewhere in the Keep would be better suited for this afternoon.” He only nodded, he could sense the change in her mood, the pensive air that now hung about her, but before they began walking, hurried little steps came down the path and you were barreling into their view. 

“Oh!” You let out a surprised little sound, pausing and almost falling backward in your surprise as you brought a hand to your heart. He watched the fabric of your dress, flowing and beautiful, sway with you, your bare shoulders and the long bell sleeves draping down your arms. The light fabric and the way it moved around you like air reminded him of the time he had spent in Dorne, of the trees swaying in a midsummer breeze. Your cheeks were flushed and a happy little smile widened your mouth, eyes sparkling with girlish joy. Your hair was braided in the fancy way all Targaryens braided theirs, but there was something more free and wild about yours compared to Rhaenyra’s. “Sister,” you breathed out quietly, smiling almost bashfully when you looked upon her. He could tell neither of you were close, but you seemed to put in much more effort to be kind to her than she did in even acknowledging you. 

“Sister,” Rhaenyra responded, almost curt, a tight-lipped smile pushing uncomfortably on her face. 

“How do you fare on this fine day?” You asked, clasping your hands in front of yourself. 

“Fine,” she answered simply, and a rather awkward silence fell between you as you nodded, pursing your lips and suddenly looking rather downtrodden. 

“I’m sorry to have intruded upon your leisure time,” you spoke quietly, “and excuse any impropriety I may have shown in running through the halls, I was simply excited. I…” you looked down to the floor and bit your lip to control your smile. “Some special new thread has been brought in from Dorne and I wished to immediately start on my new embroidery project.” You spoke as if she had asked after you, when Criston had noted a clear absence of not only Rhaenyra’s questioning of you but of her seeming interest in your presence. But you continued as if you were used to it, as if you believed she wanted to ask these questions but simply chose to let you speak, and something churned in his stomach at the thought. “I would like to embroider my dragon saddle with some designs, and this thread would be perfect for it, hardy but pretty,” and you looked at your hands giddily as if you were already holding it. Then you seemed to bow your head for a moment as you said your goodbyes, “I shall leave you to your leisure, Sister,” and you walked off hurriedly past them, as if you hadn’t noticed his presence the entire time. 

As he looked upon you now on the way to the library, he realised a change had overcome you since that time. Just as one had overcome him. Though you were dressed more in the Dornish style, like a summer sky on the hottest day of the year, you reminded him more of the monsoon rains at the island’s southernmost tip, warm drops of rain falling from orange-grey skies at sunset. Your steps were no longer light and dance-like. Though they were still graceful, they were careful, measured. You held yourself differently, much more still, and he couldn’t imagine you skipping or running girlishly through the halls. Even your face, having grown a little more, had taken on a sombre quality. Your eyes were thoughtful, slightly closed off, and… sad. And your face rested on something serene now, something gently heartbreaking though you were neither smiling nor frowning. 

He followed you all the way into the library and then back and forth through the spaces between the shelves. Occasionally you would turn to him and point out a tome you had once read as a girl, or the scrolls you had only just returned the week before. Then you would smile up at him, as if his silent company was most cherished by you, and it soothed something in him he didn’t know was hurt in the first place. 

Later in the evening, when all the candles had been lit and you had been returned to your room to prepare for dinner and Criston had been relieved of his duties for a few hours by the return of Ser Arryk, he found a messenger from the queen requesting his presence in her parlour. The entire way there, he thought about you, as if his mind could find nothing else interesting other than the way you had gently refused him from taking the books from your arms as you traversed through the library. Though he had taken the first few, when he began to reach for the little pile you had accumulated in your arms to add to his own, you had shuffled away from him with a little huff, saying “you have quite enough load as it is, Ser Criston. I may have been…” you hesitated before choosing your next word, “unwell for the past few days, but I am no invalid, and am perfectly capable of doing my own hefting.” And at that you had hefted the pile a little higher into your arms, and he could see them trembling a little as you hurried your step a little to reach one of the tables. 

“My apologies, Princess,” he had answered with the hint of a teasing smile, and you had beamed up at him as if that little show of emotion was everything you had wanted and more. 

“Unnecessary and therefore unaccepted,” you had quipped before turning your back on him and dropping the books onto the table. 

As he thought about it on his walk to the queen’s sitting rooms, he had to swallow down a chuckle that threatened to break out at the memory. Though most of the time he had spent guarding your rooms was uneventful, those few hours were joyful and distracting. Even as you had sat at the little table, forearms leaned against the edge, it had been satisfying to simply watch you scour the pages, your lips moving as you read the words. A sudden request for you to read aloud to him had even entered his thoughts at one point, if only to hear your soft voice a little more, and he had needed to clear his throat at the intrusion upon his mind. You had glanced up at that, eyes wide and asking if he was alright without saying a word, and he had simply bowed his head so you would continue undisturbed. 

When he reached the doors to the queen’s rooms, he knocked three times. He was quickly told to enter in her quiet yet firm voice, and found her sitting at her writing desk as the toddler Helaena crawled about the floor near the fireplace with her maids while another cradled the baby Aemond. Alicent beckoned him to close the door and come closer, and he obliged quickly, coming to stand right beside her desk and leaning down a little so he could hear her clearly over the children’s babbling and the chatter of the nursemaids. 

“Ser Criston,” she began, heaving a breath out that made her shoulders drop a little and folding her hands one on top of the other on her desk. She smiled up at him as if content and a little weary. “You have been a loyal knight, and a comforting presence for me in my time at the Red Keep. Do not think I am dissatisfied with your service as I request of you what I am about to do so,” and she paused, pursing her lips for a moment and looking at her two children before turning back to him. “I would like for you to change your posting to be sworn guard of Princess Y/n. I trust you will find a worthy replacement for yourself at my side and will not question whomever you choose.” She paused again, eyes pensive and mouth opening and closing as she tried to think of ways to explain her thoughts. She closed her eyes, no more than a long blink, then sighed long and low. “I have feared for her since the day of her betrothal, and I fear still that the toll of her marriage is becoming too much to bear. But the princess is self effacing, and would never dare to burden another with any of her worries or woes. I simply wish for you to be the loyal knight to her as you have been to me, and if you see a change in her spirits, or any… behaviours displayed by her husband that may be a cause of concern for her, come to me with these observations and I shall do my best to aid her with the hand she has been dealt.” She smiled up at Criston as if to say ‘you understand, don’t you?’ and he nodded, glancing about her desk as if he was already thinking about everything she had said. “Good,” Alicent finished simply and dismissed him with a wave of her hand telling him to start as soon as possible. And with that, he went to find Ser Arryk and realight upon his duties at your side. 

You were usually quick to be ready for dinner on time, never wanting to keep your husband waiting lest it harden his heart to you anymore than it already was, but at your first dinner returning to his company since your discovery, you took your time. Until the last second you toyed with the option of simply not attending, saying though you had felt better during the day, the bout of wellness had ended and you needed to take to your bed once more. Even sitting at the vanity as your maids redid your hair and applied rouge to your lips and cheeks, your bed seemed to call to you, a siren song begging you to return to your self-imposed conferment and spend the rest of your days hidden away. But you could not. 

When you were ready to leave, you were surprised to find Ser Criston Cole returned to his post. He had informed you of the change of guard before he left, but you had believed he would be gone for a whole shift before returning (or not returning at all). He nodded to you as you walked out, and you paused just in front of him with a surprised smile. 

“Ser Criston! You told me Ser Arryk would be returning as my guard for the evening!” He nodded sheepishly, looking away for a moment, and you almost caught a little smile brewing at his lips before his face returned to its natural stoicness. 

“The queen has decreed that my oath of service to her be transferred to you, your highness,” and the way he said it was so simple, a man following an order. 

“The queen?” You asked, frowning a little in confusion. 

“Yes. I hope you are not put-off by it, your highness. If you wish to choose your own King’s Guard or have Ser Arryk return to his duties, I will speak with the queen myself on your behalf.” He seemed eager not to upset you, brown eyes widening a little in earnestness as he spoke, and you smiled, waving off his concern. 

“No, no, Ser Criston, nothing like that. You have served Alicent well in your time with her and if she trusts you, then I do so as well. I simply wonder if she has done this out of some misplaced concern about my wellbeing,” but the way you said it was warm, as if you appreciated that she had done it nonetheless. 

“I could not say,” he replied quietly, but the way he looked to the ground made you believe he was holding something back. You decided not to question it. 

“Well, off we go, Ser Criston. I believe I am late to dinner with my husband,” your joviality was forced, he could see it in your distracted eyes and the tight smile you tried oh so hard to keep up. Your back was rigid rather than the naturally straight posture you usually kept from years of training, and your clasped hands in front of you were fidgeting with the rings upon your fingers. 

He could see the wedding band you had been given, a band of gold around a big fat ruby. It screamed more of your husband’s tastes than your own, gaudy compared to the delicate jewellery you had worn during the day.

 He thought it rather funny that you wore a ring on the same finger of your opposite hand, this one more simple, a thin band of silver inlaid with tiny sapphires all around. The blue was bright against your skin and your dress, and though it seemed often polished, it looked a little worn and old. He wished to ask you about it, but simply bit his tongue and followed you to the next wing in which the dining room you and Daemon used resided. Once more he noted how odd it was that husband and wife ate dinner together but not ever in their own chambers. 

He stopped outside the doors, turning his back on them and subsequently facing you, and he noted the way you were stopped just in front of them. You were staring ahead of you fearfully, as if whatever lay behind that door was the greatest enemy of all, the thing you feared most in the world, and you seemed to revert to the little girl you had once been, hands shaking and lower lip twitching as if you were about to cry. The urge to comfort you as one would a child raised in him, and he gazed upon you with a pitiful, dog-like sadness. He cleared his throat. 

“Your highness, admonish me if I break any code of impropriety,” he began quietly, not looking right at you but somewhere just above your head. “But if you do not wish to dine with your husband, I can carry in the message for you and escort you back to your chambers at once.” 

You turned to look at Criston, into his eyes that had softened much since you had first met and the little crinkle just above his brow. You smiled, albeit it being thin and watery as you suddenly felt the inexplicable urge to cry, but you shook your head. You wiped at your under eyes until you felt that your tears had dissipated and took deep breaths until your lips no longer shook and the lump in your throat had been swallowed down. 

“No,” you shook your head, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them and shaking your head again. “No, that will not be necessary.” But you smiled at him in thanks, and reached out to gently touch the forearm he held over his stomach. Though you only touched metal, your fingertips tingled and you felt like your septa would come running in to scold you for touching a man who was not your husband. Nothing happened, and you simply curled your fingers inward and brought the fist to your side. Criston watched you like you were created anew before him. And then you opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind you swiftly, and leaving him to the silence of the hallway, and the crackling of fire in the sconce directly ahead of him. 

For the first time you entered the room when Daemon was already seated at the table. He looked back as the doors opened and found you striding in with your head held high, more confident than he had ever seen you before, and he raised an eyebrow at the spectacle. Your lips were pursed tightly, and your eyes were wary, but he couldn’t see it. You walked all the way to the table and sat down swiftly across from him, folding your hands in your lap and only looking so far as your own plate. He hmphed, twisting back to sit properly in his seat and resting his elbows on the table as he watched you. You glanced up, and when you noticed his eyes on you, you seemed to wilt a little like a leaf being boiled in front of him. 

“It seems you have recovered, niece,” and after a moment, you nodded. He never called you wife, you realised. No endearing name like dearest or ‘my heart’. It was always either your name or ‘niece’. 

“Yes,” you answered, and then the servants were bringing the dishes to the table and you two remained silent until they had returned to their spots against the walls. 

Daemon felt a little startled as he poked at the chicken on his plate. It was so… quiet. Usually by this point in the evening he would have been briefed only on the contents of your morning, and though he often lost himself in his thoughts or simply didn’t pay attention, the chatter in the background had become surprisingly… soothing. He looked up at you, but you were simply swirling your soup around and around with your spoon. The silence was grating. He clenched his jaw and put his knife and fork down onto the plate with a little ‘clink’ sound. 

“Was that Crispin’s voice I heard at the door?” He asked a little tersely, and your eyes were wide as they shot up to him. Wide and almost fearful, he would think. “He stood guard at your door while you were sick, you know? Has Alicent finally tired of her dog?” 

“I-” you gulped, glancing all over the table but never at him. You looked anguished, pained, and he wondered if whatever had kept you sick in your bed had not fully left you. “It’s Criston.” 

He looked at you, blinking a little quicker, mouth a little open. Your voice had been small, like the voice children used to wake their parents from their beds, and he couldn’t quite believe you had said what you said. 

“Come again?” And he put his hand to his ear, leaning in and squinting his eyes exaggeratedly, all a show for his heart had begun to pound a little in his chest. 

“His name is Criston. Ser Criston Cole,” you answered, and he clenched his jaw so hard it throbbed for a moment after he released it. You still refused to look at him, and it was beginning to irritate him to the ends of the earth. Though you had not been a particular fan of eye contact before, whenever you had spoken to him at the wedding, at the dinners that followed, you had always looked up at him with big eyes and a tentative little smile. Always looking for his approval. He simply hummed and leaned back to continue eating. 

The dinner was entirely silent after that, and though you left feeling relieved and a little stronger, Daemon was left unsatisfied, something suddenly unsettled in his chest as he watched you breeze out of the door in your fluttering gown without a look back. 

Two weeks on from that day, and you had established a new routine. You would spend the morning hours as you had done before, ensuring everything in your husband’s personal life was perfect, from newly ordered bedsheets and the restuffing of his pillows, to ordering only his favourite cuts of meat and ensuring the squires polished his armour regularly. Perhaps it was out of habit, perhaps out of social convention that you had never once flouted, or simply because despite your anguish when you even thought of him, you may never stop pursuing the need for your husband’s love and approval, but you couldn’t stop yourself from doing it. 

These hours were usually rather hazy in your memory, a series of yes’s and a grey melancholic sheen over your eyes, but after a slow and lazy lunch (usually in Alicent’s company) you always felt better for the latter half of your day. 

You did what you had once done before your marriage, carrying a book or your latest embroidery project in your arms and meandering through the courtyards until you found one devoid of people (or at least devoid of a crowd) and settling down under the shade of a tree. Since your marriage you had found the company of your ‘friends’ grating. Some found pleasure only in the love of their husbands, speaking on and on about the gifts of jewellery and flowers and the showers of attention they received while you simmered in jealousy and an overwhelming feeling of failure. Others found pleasure in telling racy stories of their escapades in the bedchamber(often not with their husbands) and here you too were jealous or simply lost. They described feelings and sensations you had only ever known in hints, desires you didn’t know one could desire, actions of those desires you didn’t think were possible. 

Soon you felt so estranged from them all, so alone in your circumstance, that you simply avoided the gatherings. Though you did sometimes miss the camaraderie of the ladies, the easy laughter and womanly loyalty, you found that it wasn’t such a devastating loss. Especially when you found such a thoughtful companion in Ser Criston Cole. 

He was as stoic as many a knight of the King’s Guard, but you found a certain kinship in his silence and soft looks. He seemed to understand the sadness that seemed to tinge even your happiest moods. He never questioned the sudden onslaught of tears that sometimes attacked you during the day, only offering a handkerchief if you began looking around desperately for one. Nor did he question why you avoided the wing in which Rhaenyra and her soon to be growing family lived, even if it was at your own expense. Or why at even the barest hint of Rhaenyra’s voice you turned and almost ran in the other direction. Though he often only spoke when he was spoken to and usually chose the least verbal answer, his consistent presence and vigilant watch over you was comfortable. It may be only a job for him, but to always have someone watching over your safety and comfort felt… frankly, amazing. 

“Ser Criston?” You looked up at him from your place nestled between the thick roots of an old oak tree in the western-most courtyard of the keep. 

It was one of the colder days of the summer though the sun was shining brightly. A brisk breeze had picked up over the evening before and rarely settled. You were dressed in your Targaryen colours, a black dress with red accents, and if it hadn’t been for the bright pops of colour he would think you had donned your mourning shroud. 

Your hair had been left undone for the day, and you seemed to enjoy the freedom of letting it fly around you untamed. It made you look younger, wilder, and Criston found it an enjoyable sight. You seemed a little bleary after your lunch and laid your head back against the trunk of the tree as you read. You had tried to convince Criston to sit down multiple times and though he refused each time, you chose not to comment about the way he sometimes leaned subtly against the trunk of the tree. 

“Yes, Princess?” He answered, tilting his head down to look at you. You smiled, you derived a secret kind of pleasure when he addressed you so. 

“Would you enjoy this more if I read aloud to you? I fear you must find these afternoons rather dull.” Your smile was almost teasing, and you were successful in eliciting a little smile in return. 

“Do not trouble yourself on my account, Princess,” his voice was soft and he looked away from you to smile at the floor. Your entire body suddenly felt warm and almost giddy. 

“It would be no trouble, I am already reading after all. I simply hope to ensure you do not find my company exceptionally boring,” you said it with a little laugh, bringing your hand up to your mouth as you giggled, and you couldn’t be sure if the sound you heard was actually the little huffing chuckle you believed it to be. When you looked back up at him, his eyes seemed to shine and you wanted to push your face so close to his that those eyes were all you saw. You cleared your throat and averted your gaze as the tips of your ears began burning. 

It was quiet for a few moments, only the rustle of the leaves and the soft sounds of your breathing as you lay your head back against the tree and closed your eyes.  

“I enjoy your company,” it was soft, low, barely audible, but you heard it and your entire body tensed. You refused to open your eyes for a moment, wanting to sit in the words, in the pleasant feeling of being liked, of being enjoyed. When you did open your eyes again and look at him, he had already trained his gaze somewhere across the yard. You cleared your throat and began to read aloud. 

Since your wedding, your husband came to visit your bedchambers once every fortnight. He would knock quietly on the door at the hour of the bat, when the moon was highest in the sky, and enter before you could say anything. Upon the sight of him, you would usually begin walking toward the bed, climbing over the covers to situate yourself in the middle. There were very few candles lit at that hour, and everything was shrouded in a soft secretive light. 

He would be quick to follow you onto the bed, simply undoing the laces on his trousers and slipping them down a little so his cock could bob out. There was never any need for either of you to get undressed further than this. 

Usually he would have you on your hands and knees, a pillow shoved under your hips and another below your head so you could rest the side of your face against it. It was carnal, and unfeeling, how you imagined animals coupled in the wild. You often felt a little sick afterward, like for a moment your body had not been your own, and you would wait to move from the bed until you heard the door close behind him. It was different this time. 

Your spirits were lifted after an enjoyable afternoon reading to Criston and though you continued to stay silent at your dinners with Daemon, you were too lost in your own thoughts to feel tense and skittish. You allowed yourself to be lost in the memories, to imagine the breeze blowing over your skin again and pretend you could hear the leaves rustling above your head once more. 

Daemon had tried to initiate a conversation a few times over the weeks since your silence began, but you answered sparingly, either humming a response or shrugging or simply nodding. He had again attempted this night, but you hadn’t even bothered to answer any of his inquiries, staring off into space as you slowly chewed on your piece of chicken, an odd show of rudeness from you. He had simply taken to watching you instead. 

You were dressed like a true Targaryen princess, a bright red dress like you had bathed in blood. The sleeves weren’t really sleeves for they were cut down the middle and hung from your shoulders at your sides and your arms were bare despite the cold day. Your hair had been threaded into one large braid and you wore gold jewellery, delicate ruby drop earrings to match your dress and wedding ring. Your mother’s ring, the one gift she had left you days before her death clashed with the rest of your clothes but he had never once seen you without it. 

Daemon was not often surprised with himself, but as he looked upon your face he felt he had never seen it before. He traced the slope of your nose, the curve of your jaw, the set of your brow bone and the flesh of your cheeks with his eyes. The curve of your eyelashes, the shape of your cupid’s bow, the slant of your eyebrows, was all new to him. You looked exactly the same as on the day of your wedding, but he felt he had not seen his wife before. And an even greater mystery, something random and unexplainable, was the sudden desire to know her. 

When you finished your meal and were about to leave, he stood with you and began following you out. Upon realisation, you paused just before the door and turned to look at him. He raised an eyebrow for a moment, but when you didn’t continue on your way and simply kept staring up at him in confusion he sighed and walked to stand just in front of you. 

“I shall accompany you to your chambers this evening, wife,” he said, clasping his hands in front of him, “to share some wine and… converse.” It sounded almost painful coming out of his mouth, as if he was uncertain and disguising it with a false bravado. But you could see the way he glanced away from you and to the corners of the room, the way his hands fidgeted a little with each other and how his body looked like it was desperate to march out of the room but his entire willpower was devoted to keeping him standing exactly where he was. 

“Alright,” you whispered, and a blush filled your cheeks like hot water being poured into a mug. Surely sharing a cup of wine was a euphemism. You twisted the fabric of your sleeves into your hands as you walked half a stride behind Daemon. 

All of Criston’s training had to be used when Daemon came walking out of the room shortly followed by you. He had endured the look of disgust that overcame Daemon’s features as he laid eyes upon him, then felt his heart melt at the little smile you offered. More and more he felt himself fall victim to your charms and each passing day had the feeling of a march closer and closer to heartbreak. 

He had begun to follow you, as was his duty, but when Daemon heard his heavy-booted footsteps, he paused and turned around with a fake smile of kindness and a very real look of triumph in his eyes. 

“You may leave us, Crispin, I am experienced enough in combat to protect my wife,” and for a moment Criston thought Daemon would try and wrap his arm around your shoulders. “Take a break, visit a brothel.” Criston couldn’t control the grimace that moved his lips. You were looking at the wall, hands twisting and twisting in the fabric, and he watched you with the sudden overwhelming need to take your hands gently in his and kiss each of your fingers until your hands relaxed. 

“Would you like me to relieve my duty for the evening, Princess?” He asked quietly, as if only your voice mattered, and not once had he looked up at Daemon since your uncle spoke. You smiled, equal parts joyful and thankful, and looked up into his eyes. 

“It is alright, Ser Criston, you deserve some time devoted to yourself. But when I next open my door in the morning, I expect to see you there,” the order in your voice was so joking and pathetic, the fake frown on your face shining with mirth; he half expected you to wag your finger at him. He smiled, not for the first time resisting the urge to reach forward and press loving kisses to the backs of your hands, and bid you goodbye with a bow before walking off in the other direction. 

You stood there for a moment, watching him walk away, when Daemon cleared his throat behind you. You turned around and gazed up at him through your lashes. Every ounce of irritation Damon had felt a moment ago seemed to suddenly become secondary. He held out his hand to you, and you simply stared at it. You could see the calluses on his fingers from where he gripped his sword. He wiggled his fingers, watching you with raised eyebrows as if you were going dumb before his eyes. Slowly, with a hand that twitched like a skittish deer, you settled your hand into his. 

He looked down at it and felt his chest bloom with warmth at how small your fingers were against his, how gentle they looked against his palm. He wrapped up your hand in his own and gripped it firmly, not tight enough to hurt but you would have to tug against it if you wanted to get away. Your fingers became warm and a tingle went up your arm. You weren’t sure if it was a good or bad feeling. 

He led you all the way back to your chambers and even held the door open for you. He didn’t let go of your hand as you passed him, instead following quickly after you and closing the door quickly behind him. It made a loud sound as it closed, not a slam but the sound of wood hitting wood a little hurriedly, and you jumped, trying to tug your hand out of his. He didn’t let it go, simply shushed you a little and led you to the little seating area by the fireplace. He settled you into a chair and, finally letting go of your hand, went to the side table that had a jug of wine ready on it. You turned in your seat and watched as he poured two cups and brought them back to you. He smirked a little when he noticed you but didn’t say anything. He sat in the chair next to yours with a little huff and sipped from his glass. You simply held yours in your hands and looked into it. 

“Will you not say anything at all to me this evening, wife?” He asked, and you weren’t sure if he was teasing or there was a harsh edge to his voice. 

“What would you like me to say?” You asked quietly, not moving your eyes from the cup of wine but watching him through your periphery. He paused at that, eyes trained on you in the way you imagined he faced a problem on the battlefield. 

“Hm, that is a rather good question,” and he smirked as he took another big gulp from his cup. He drained it right after, and you watched him get up and refill it. You hadn’t touched anything more than the cup the wine was in. You turned to watch him again. 

Daemon stood at the table with the jug of wine and stared at it. Then, slowly, he put his own cup down and spun on his heel. He walked back over to you, eyes on your face, and your breath caught in your throat. He was not walking quickly, but not slowly either, and it felt like a lifetime before he found his way to you. He gripped where your head met your neck and used his thumb to lift your head until you were craning it up to him. Then he bent at the waist and pressed his mouth to yours like he was sipping wine right from the centre of the barrel. 

You didn’t quite know what to do with your hands, and the fear of tipping over the cup of wine made you grip it until your fingertips turned white. Your eyes stayed open, but you couldn’t see anything more than a skin-coloured. Your mouth had opened a little in a silent gasp when he had first kissed you, and he used his lips to open it further, to plunge his tongue into your mouth and taste you. He tasted of wine and the slight sourness of alcohol, and you remembered how much you’ve always disliked the drink. 

It was an odd sensation that brewed within you as he kissed you and tried to coax your response. It was something you had wanted for so long, a simple act that should have been common between man and wife that you had been denied as long as you had been able to call yourself a wife. And now that you had it, you had it so freely given and initiated by the husband who hadn’t desired you, an uncomfortable mix of triumph and repulsion, glee and disgust made your stomach churn. You found that you no longer wanted the kiss he so freely offered and it made you want to cry with disappointment. 

He pulled away, not far so you could feel his heavy breaths against your lips and his eyes blurred together in a hazel slash. He simply watched you, gaze switching between your eyes, and for a moment he looked dissatisfied. Was it you that caused it in him, or was it his inability to see what he wished for? He moved his hand down a little from the base of your skull to the back of your neck and caressed his thumb along the front of your throat. The thought that he could simply press inward and strangle you flashed in your head. 

Daemon leaned down again and as you closed your eyes in preparation, he used his other hand to pluck the cup of wine from your grip and deposit it on the table. You watched the wine slosh almost to the edge but swing back the other way before it could spill. He used the same hand to grasp your arm and urge you to stand. You did without struggle. The hand on the back of your neck was uncomfortably warm and the callus on his index finger was rough against your cheek as he pushed a strand of hair out of your face. 

“Come to bed,” he whispered, and you nodded, allowing him to lead you to the edge of the four-poster. He turned you around and began undoing your braid until your hair fell in waves down your back. He caressed it, soft and reverent, before undoing the back of your dress and slipping it over your shoulders. The top fell down to your waist and he pushed it over your hips until it was in a heap at your feet. He kissed along your bare shoulders, first on the left then on the right, and smiled against the skin when you shivered. His hands moved up and down your arms, warming you up, and goosebumps pimpled on your skin. He pushed the straps of your shift down your arms, and you let him. The crumpled fabric slipped easier over your skin and joined the pile on your feet. 

Everything was hazy in the world, like smoke had filled the room and you could feel it only slightly against the back of your throat. You were not you, and the room was not your room, but some ethereal version of each thing. Nothing of consequence would occur in these moments. 

He turned you around then, and gently cupped both your breasts in his hands. He caressed them, ran the pads of his thumbs over your nipples as they hardened in the cold air, held their weight in his hands and felt the hot underside of your breasts. Your breath was shallow, chest quivering, and he bent down to kiss each breast, hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses that made you gulp with a dry mouth and throat. He licked each nipple, bit each one, and when your hand came up to grip his arm as you swayed a little, he pulled away. 

“Sit and lay back,” he ordered, gripping your hips and guiding you backward until your thighs hit the bed and you were sat on the edge. He reached up and pushed your shoulders down until you were flat on your back with your legs hanging over, toes just barely brushing the cold floor. You felt like the dolls you had once played with, stiff and inanimate, moved only at the will of others. 

Daemon was quick to rid himself of his clothes. His jacket was already crumpled on the floor and his shirt was thrown through the air to land somewhere on the stone floor past your bed. The laces on his pants were undone so quickly you thought he might rip them right off, but he simply loosened them until he could push them and his underthings off. 

Daemon got on his knees between your legs and carefully raised them so your knees bent over his shoulders and your calves rested against his back. He pulled you forward a little more and gazed at the space between your legs. Your skin was tinged yellow from the candlelight and he had never thought a woman more beautiful than in that moment. He moved his hands up your thighs and rested both flat on your stomach. He pressed his face to your core, licking over your lips and between the seam until the taste of you was imprinted on his tongue and your slick was smeared over his mouth and pushed its way down to his chin. 

You lay back with your eyes clenched shut and your mouth open, chest heaving as you panted like a dog. Your hands were twisted in the sheets and the skin on your chest had gone red. Your mind was somehow rooted in your body yet floating away at the same time. You existed in every cell, every sensation, the feeling of his wet tongue against that little spot right at the top that made fire erupt in your stomach made you moan louder than you ever had. You hadn’t even known you were capable of moaning. 

Daemon lapped against you like a dog licking up a treat, wide and wet and rough against the inflamed little nub that twitched with your heartbeat. He felt you cum on his tongue, felt the quiver of your stomach against his hands, the way you curled upwards a little. He tasted it, the sudden increase of slick against his lips. He seemed to drink your entire being as he kneeled between your legs. 

You looked down as he pressed his cheek to your inner thigh. His face was warm against where he lay it down and you could feel his heavy breaths over your core, like gentle fingers brushing over the sensitive skin. He met your eyes, his dark and looking black in the dim light. For a moment you wanted to get up and run. It was not your uncle but a demon between your legs, sent to the world by the old gods to devour you. You pushed up, suddenly scared, but he was quick to slither up your body and press his mouth to yours, press his tongue to yours, fill you with the light sticky taste of your core. You heaved against his mouth and one of your hands came up to clutch his shoulder. He took it as encouragement. 

Daemon lay his weight over you and stared into your eyes. You could feel his hand at the apex of your thighs, haphazardly grabbing his cock and bumping the tip against you until he found your entrance. You held your breath, the pressure in your chest steadily increasing, and waited for the inevitable sting and drag. It hurt less for the first time, more like tiny concentrated bolts of lightning zipping along the flesh inside you, and you huffed out a breathy sound, both hands clutching at his arms as he pushed into you. 

Each time Daemon bedded you, he always made this expression, this look of pain and pleasure that had his eyebrows scrunching together and his mouth opening as he closed his eyes. This time he kept his eyes open, as much as he could anyway, and looked straight at you as his hips met yours. Your spine felt fluid, like it no longer existed and therefore you were incapable of movement. 

“Tighter than a virgin,” he huffed out, and you clenched around him which only made him rock his hips. You weren’t sure if you liked his words or not, a little grimace on your face. You began to close your eyes as his hips began to slowly rock into you, gulping as you panted, but he gripped your chin tightly in his hand. “No, keep looking at me,” and so you did. 

It was painful to look into his eyes as he pushed into you. You felt the pleasure shooting from your core, the natural tightening of your thighs around his hips, but an equally painful internal turmoil mingled with it. You looked into the blackness of his blown-wide pupils and saw the darkness of the hallway in which he had stood kissing Rhaenyra. In his grip on your chin you imagined how Rhaenyra felt when he had gently tipped her chin up to press his lips to hers reverently. You wondered if she knew the weight of him on top of her exactly the way you knew it now. 

Daemon leaned down and broke eye contact to press his face into your neck, to smell your skin and sweat. He panted against you, eyes closed in the blackness of the little space around his face and he pushed his hips in and out faster despite how much he wanted to keep everything slow. He wanted to feel you, to know you as intimately as a man and wife should know one another. He knew nothing else but this. You whimpered a little into the air, like a bird falling from a branch, and he wrapped you up a little tighter in his arms. 

The coupling was quick. You found it easy to fall over the cusp after the time he spent on you with his tongue, and he seemed eager to follow soon after. When he finished, he lay himself on top of you for a little while, breathing heavily and allowing the sweat on your bodies to dry a little. You felt suffocated. You wanted him off. But you said nothing. 

Eventually, Daemon rolled off of you and used the edge of the sheets to wipe himself off. Then he clambered onto the bed and lay across it properly, sheets at his waist and head settling into the pillow. Your limbs were stiff as you got up, and your core felt sore. You settled your weight on precarious legs, and made your way to your little private area behind the divider. A bowl of water was set on a little table and you dipped a washing rag into it before slowly cleaning the seed from your legs. You were careful, and your fingers were soft against the tender flesh between your legs, but you only stopped when every crevice felt clean. Perhaps this was the reason you weren’t getting pregnant, you thought, but you couldn’t stop. 

Your nightgown was hanging over the divider and you quietly pulled it on, settling the fabric around you before slowly making your way back to the bed and getting onto your side. Daemon watched you curl your knees to your chest and sit against the pillows, only allowing the sheets to cover your feet. You rested your chin against your legs and let out slow breaths. He couldn’t see your face properly because of your hair falling forward but he was desperate to. He reached out and gently pushed some of it back. Your eyes were closed and he couldn’t tell what you were thinking about. He simply sighed and reached out to rest his arm over your feet before closing his eyes. 

The only candle that had been left burning was on the little table beside your bed, and it watched you sit there for an hour. When you had felt Daemon’s breathing slow down, you had opened your eyes and watched the door. When you were sure he was asleep, you gently slid your feet out from under his arm and crept over the edge of the bed. You didn’t put on slippers and stood for a minute to shiver as the cold from the floor seeped into your toes and heels. Then you crept to the divider again and gently brought down your robe from the corner and slipped your arms into the sleeves before tying it at the waist. You looked back to see if Daemon was sleeping only once, then walked to the door. You opened it so slowly the wood made not a hint of sound, and when you were finally outside you let out a deep breath. 

You weren’t quite sure why you had come outside in the first place, but you felt a little better. You turned to the right and there stood Ser Criston against the wall just beside your door, watching you in the dim light. You watched him in return, the hair that curled a little inward at the nape of his neck and the pink tint of his lips. The sudden urge to cry overwhelmed you and you rushed toward him, wrapping your arms around his torso as you sobbed against his chest. 

Criston wrapped you up as much as he could with his armour still on, but he pressed his cheek down onto your head and shushed you as you cried. Your sobs were soft and muffled, your tears smearing on his armour and your cheeks as you hiccuped in his arms. He smoothed a hand over your hair, down your back, then cupped it around your waist. 

When your sobs began to quiet a little, your hiccups not as frequent, you pulled away quickly and stood against the wall across the hall, curling in on yourself as you used the edges of your nightgown to wipe at your eyes. Only your laboured breathing filled the hall, and the creak of his armour as he stood to attention again. You waited until you felt like you could open your mouth again without dissolving into sobs and turned to him with splotchy cheeks, a shiny nose, and red eyes that made you look like a little girl again. 

“I am sorry, that was inappropriate of me,” you whispered, and your voice was gritty and painful. He simply shook his head, pursing his lips for a moment before looking away from you and into the fire of the sconce directly in front of the door to your chambers.

“Nothing happened, Princess,” and you smiled a little, huffing out something akin to a laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

You pulled the sleeves of your nightgown and robe so they covered your hands, then pressed one of your fists to your lips and nose as you leaned back against the wall directly opposite to Criston. Your other hand came around to grasp your elbow and support it against your stomach, and you looked into Criston’s eyes. They were the colour of the bark of oak trees, the darkest honey, the sweetest chocolate from Dorne. 

“I don’t like my husband,” you whispered, and it felt criminal to voice the opinion out loud. You looked around a little, as if he would suddenly be standing at the door, ready to punish you for it, but nothing happened except Criston huffing out a laugh. You smiled at the sound, a warm, gruff, sort of sound. 

“Truth be told, I do not like your husband either,” and you giggled at that, pressing the smile into your fist. 

“I-” you paused, averting your eyes to the floor. “I like you though.” You glanced up to see his reaction, but he was looking at the wall ahead of him, and his face didn’t change. 

“I’m not sure that is a wise decision, Princess,” he said simply, as if he was reading it off a paper, and you laughed, thinking he was joking, being sarcastic or self-deprecating, but when he didn’t join in your laughter you stopped. Your cheeks burned and you were overwhelmed with embarrassment. 

“I did not mean-” you cut yourself off, biting your lip until it hurt and then biting it a little more. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, and he shook his head, frowning, looking down to the floor. 

“There is nothing to be sorry for, Princess, I simply meant that I am a knight of the Kingsguard and-” 

“Ser Criston, I know, I would never put you in a position to even question your oath let alone any imagining of you sullying it!” Your voice elevated a little in your hurry as you held out your hands and looked at him with wide eyes. He turned his gaze on you, some inexplicable expression on his face, and you blushed again, curling your hands against your chest and leaning against the wall once more. You trained your gaze on his feet. “I enjoy your company, and I respect you.” You watched him shuffle his feet a little. You were both quiet for a little while, letting the silence cover you like a soft blanket. 

Criston’s hands tingled with the need to reach out and caress your face, his heart strained against his chest with the need to meet your own, to press your two bodies together and press your mouth to his and kiss you until he couldn’t breathe anymore and then keep kissing you. 

You let your gaze trail all over his body, to the muscular shoulders hidden behind armour and the white cloak hanging from them. His neck seemed soft and blurred compared to the rest of him, and you wanted to reach up and caress the light dusting of a beard on his chin and cheeks. You wondered how coarse the hairs were. You wanted to kiss his eyelids, his forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. You wanted to know what the skin felt like under your lips. 

“If it was a different world…” he trailed off, but you knew what was to come next regardless of him saying it or not. 

“I know,” you whispered quietly, taking a deep, shuddering, breath in and wrapping the robe tighter around you and following it with your arms. 

“I know,” he repeated back to you. You were both quiet again but the air felt a little heavier. You swallowed and closed your eyes.  

“I would love to kiss you, right at this moment,” you whispered, eyes reopening slowly to look at him. His eyes were on the ground but his lips were parted just slightly. His breath was shallow and his hands clenched into fists at his side slowly. You felt like you were watching everything he did a second after it happened. 

“I would love it if you kissed me, right at this moment,” his voice was low, gravelly, and you took a little step closer, a shuffle. 

You wanted to reach out and touch his stomach, feel the muscles beneath the shirt. You wanted to touch his shoulders, feel them tense then release as you ran your fingers up them. You wanted to caress his neck and gently press your fingertips to his cheeks to see how plush they were.

 Instead, you slowly made your way toward your chamber doors. When your shoulder was level with his, you looked at each other. His smile was so soft and warm, so kind and gentle, that you felt the tears begin to climb up behind your eyes. You looked back to your chamber doors and opened them just as quietly as you had done before, slipping inside and closing it behind you. You looked around the room for a moment, unseeing, then walked all the way back to your side of the bed. You blew out the remaining candle and got under the sheets right on the edge so not even Daemon’s outstretched hand could touch you.  

You and Ser Criston never spoke of that evening again. But sometimes, when everything was quiet and you were alone, you would look into his eyes, and know. 

After the night he kissed you for the first time since the wedding, Daemon suddenly felt like his entire life was off-kilter. He could not escape thoughts of you. He could not escape memories of you. 

At first he found himself sitting at the edge of the training pit, watching the gold cloaks spar as he awaited his turn, and all he could think of was the image of you in your wedding dress right after he had kissed you, blushing cheeks and cut lip smeared with spit and the mix of his blood and yours. As he took his midday meal in Rhaenyra’s solar across the table from her, he saw your frown as you told him you were still a maiden. As he flew on Caraxes on a hot afternoon, he saw the relief in your eyes as you lifted the strap of your shift back onto your shoulder. 

He began to wonder about you, about your days and nights, about what books you enjoyed or the temperament of your dragon. Each day brought new questions about you that he pushed away because they were unnecessary and only served to drive him mad. 

He noticed himself noticing you. His ears would perk up if he heard your voice somewhere in the distance, and something in his chest would jump a little. Your perfume lingered in the library after your visits, and if he happened to visit at just the right time, traces of it would gently touch his nose and his stomach would suddenly feel warm. Each time he entered your room for your fortnightly fucking, he found himself dallying longer and longer before and after, simply to gaze at your belongings and learn about you. 

Slowly, it became an irrepressible infatuation. He would watch you from the terraces and balconies around the Red Keep as you sat in the various courtyards, admiring your hair and your dress, jealous of the sun for being able to touch you so reverently in a way he never could.  He would dab your perfume on his handkerchief and keep it securely tucked in his pocket, pulling it out and pressing it to his nose in the quiet of his room on the other side of the Keep. He had even had one of the tapestries you had done removed from the halls of the Keep and hung on the wall across from his bed. He was lost in you. 

In this new daze, he had abandoned his trysts with Rhaenyra and had been shocked to find he did not care when she took a new lover. She had asked after his sudden disinterest, why he no longer visited her in the evenings or ate his lunch in her company. He hadn’t had an answer ready to give. 

In this time, he had also grown aware of Criston Cole’s infatuation with you. He had already thought it odd that the knight had abandoned being the Queen’s lapdog for the forgotten princess, but he had assumed that Alicent had ordered him to and was simply enacting another of her many schemes. He had even scoffed at the idea, laughing to himself that Alicent would gain nothing over him for he was only a husband in name. 

But after all the time he spent watching you, he could see how truly devoted to you the knight had become. He stood as close to you as was appropriate for a knight and not an inch farther. He held your projects or piles of books as he walked beside you, refusing you from taking any load from his arms. If you ever had a request, he forced whichever servant was closest to complete it in an instant so he could fulfil it without leaving your company. 

And he was always looking at you. Sometimes when Daemon watched you in the courtyard with Cole, the knight never removed his eyes from you for a second. You would turn your face up to smile at him and he would already be looking at you. You would return to the book and his eyes would still be on your face. 

It wasn’t just the fact that he was looking at you, though, it was the way the knight watched you. He always had this warm little expression on his face, his eyes a little wide and shiny and full of awe. His mouth was always gentler in those moments, lips softened and hinting at a smile. He seemed entirely at peace in your presence. 

And as Daemon watched you more and more, he realised the knight’s infatuation with you was returned. You were chatty around him, spilling your thoughts or asking him questions. You read aloud to him, made him little gifts of handkerchiefs or embellishments on his cloak that he always refused at first before relenting when you claimed you would be thoroughly upset if he continued to deny you. Your embroidery featured motifs of white knights more and more and you smiled at Criston in a way he wasn’t sure you had ever smiled at anyone else. It made him angry. Angry in a way that could only be soothed by hacking at a straw dummy in the training yard with Dark Sister until the thing had to be replaced. 

When Daemon found you, you were sitting at your writing desk with a parchment in front of you, quill raised as you bit your lip and formed the words in your head. His chest was heaving despite him not having run. The sunshine falling over the desk from the window behind you made you look like a spirit from the stories, all your edges glowing and a shadowy haziness draping your face. He walked right up to the desk, cupped your face in both his hands and kissed you on the mouth.

 It was firm, insistent, his mouth moving and pressing yours open while your mind tried to catch up with the sudden events, your quill dripping ink onto the table where you still had your hand raised. You pulled away after a moment, a frown creasing your brow and lips parted for a moment. You licked them, pressing them together as you swallowed and turned back to face the desk. Your eyes roamed over the little trinkets as if they had not been there before. Then you turned to look at Daemon again. 

He was standing above you, dazed as he gently touched his thumb to his lower lip. He looked bedraggled. Some of his hair had been pulled back into little braids to keep it from his face, his battle hair, but some of it curled with his sweat and other strands had been pulled out as if he had forgotten about the braids and had begun pulling at his hair in frustration. He was only wearing his training tunic, and there were mud stains on his pants and you guessed he had come straight here from the training grounds. 

He was staring at you now, eyes blazing and you shuffled back a little in case he tried to kiss you again. Kissing him was nice, it had never not been at least somewhat pleasant, but you didn’t care for it anymore. He leaned down again but you closed your eyes and leaned back further, holding your hand over your lips. A frown slashed his brow and he gripped the back of your chair tightly. You feared it would crack under the pressure. 

“You would deny your husband?” He spat, and you flinched, curling a little inward as if a pang of pain had hit you in the chest. “Do you deny Cole when you are a whore for him?” And your eyes snapped up to look into his. He was seething, you could practically see the fires of rage behind his eyes. Your own began to fill with tears and he stood up again, taking a step back. His face fell a little as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath in. He could hear it shudder through your open mouth, saw the quiver of your chest. If you began to cry he wasn’t sure what he would do. 

But then you pressed your lips together, so tight they went white, and opened your eyes. They were no longer filled with tears. You stood up, brushing down the skirt of your dress. You ensured it fell around your waist correctly before clasping your hands together over your stomach and finally looking up at him again. 

“I know you do not love me,” your voice was quiet but steady, and he opened his mouth to speak, to rebuke, but no sound came out. “It is alright,” and for the first time since that fateful day, you felt it truly was. Then your eyes hardened a little, almost imperceptibly. “You are not angry because you love me, or you feel denied by your wife. You are angry simply because you feel that something you possess may be eyed by another.” Then your eyes returned to their usual gentleness, your hands loosened against each other and your entire body seemed to release a little. “But do not worry, husband. Since I was a little girl it has been ingrained upon me that marriage is sacred. One must treat it with the utmost respect, cherish it, protect it with their own actions.” You held your hands to your heart like you were cupping the very notion of marriage against your breast. “I would never dream of defiling its sanctity.” You bowed your head and breezed out of the room before he could even attempt to open his mouth. 

For a long time after, Daemon wondered if you knew of his long ago trysts with Rhaenyra. Though you had not said the words with any sort of obvious insinuation or spite, fear and guilt churned in his gut until he had to sit down and press his palms to his eyes. All he could ask himself was ‘did you know?’, all he could feel was shame and regret. 

He didn’t want you to know. He wanted to take everything back, starting with your marriage. He wanted to wrap you up in his arms and cherish you as you deserved. He wanted to spend his hours on his knees in supplication to you. He wanted to follow you around like a dog chasing its master if only you would glimpse at him with that little loving smile you reserved for so few people and press a gentle kiss to his face. He wanted your love. And somehow, he thought as he sat on the floor of his room, back leaning against the side of his bed, I have lost it before I even knew I wanted it. 

Daemon spent much of his life in the aftermath trying to win you back, and it somehow made everything worse. You were always the perfect image of a wife. If he brought you flowers, you thanked him gently, sincerely, then handed them off to a maid to have them put in water. If he brought you jewellery, you caressed it and put it on in that instant, asking him how it looked on you. He only ever had one answer, ‘radiant, my love,’ and you would smile at his reflection in the mirror before gently taking it off and putting it in your jewellery box. If he found fabrics from all corners of the world and had them brought to you for your dresses, you kissed his cheek in thanks, then asked the tailor to create something for you, never your own design. You wore them in front of him, showed him that his gifts were used, and once he had torn them off in his vigour to fuck you, you folded up the dresses and put them in the back of your wardrobe. 

When the gifts elicited nothing more than politeness, he began spending more time with you, hoping you would somehow see his devotion, see a reason to love him. He would find you just before you went to eat your midday meal with Alicent and instead guide you to a picnic in the Godswood. He would bring one of his many books on the Targaryen histories and settle himself down next to you in one of the courtyards. He would lay beside you in your bed after he finished inside you, cheek pressed into the pillow as he watched you until you fell asleep. 

Each attempt had entirely the opposite effect to his wishes. Though you never changed outwardly, never made him feel unwelcome or told him to leave, he could sense how much you preferred to be without his presence. 

And you never acknowledged Criston Cole in his presence. Whether from some deep seated propriety that refused to offend your husband or insult him in the company of others. Whether from some embarrassment that whatever feelings you held for the knight would be so easily displayed from simple conversation, he knew not. But it made everything even worse. 

You spoke not to Criston, which meant you didn’t speak to him either unless he tried to start a conversation. The silence would become suffocating to the point he would sweat through his clothes. You would be oblivious, sitting there humming or simply gazing upon your book or embroidery or letters. And he would be tortured watching you sit under the watchful eye of your knight, not saying a word. 

Each time he returned, he tried to outlast himself, outlast the silence. And each time he failed. It would be five minutes, ten minutes at most, before he stood up and walked out of the door without a goodbye, and somehow he knew that you didn’t bother looking up as he left. 

These little communions were often followed by an overwhelming sense of betrayal and embarrassment. With every failed attempt, every time he fled, he thought he could see Criston Cole’s smug smile. He thought the knight’s secret satisfaction in your favour of him suddenly became apparent on his face and in his gait, that the fool was mocking him for not being able to win his wife’s love while he held it freely in the palm of his hand. 

And then he found a slow decline into shame as he sat in the ruins of whatever furniture or ornaments he had destroyed in that bout. Vases of porcelain were left in shattered little pieces when he thought about the way you looked up at Cole like he hung the stars in the sky. End tables of oakwood were left in splinters as he imagined Cole whispering lovingly in your ears. And each time he sat in the wake, staring at his hands as they bled due to his carelessness, and he prayed to the old gods and the new, asking for your forgiveness. 

The cycle never ended, because however much he tried, however much he inserted himself in your life, you seemed forever content to play your part as a dutiful wife while simultaneously withholding the only thing he wanted from you now. Any other man would not complain about being married to you. They would be ecstatic that no matter how much debauchery they committed, however many whores they fucked and taverns they inhabited, their wife still demurely welcomed them home, ensured their needs were always met, and never deigned to bother them. He hated it with every fibre of his being. 

He wanted you to scream and hit him in the chest in your anger, to call him names and loathe him. He wanted you to glare at him in bed and refuse his kisses. He wanted you to hate him, because if he could make you hate him, he could make you love him too. He could turn those screams and punches into laughs and loving caresses. He could turn the names and loathing into soft words and adoration. He could turn the glare in bed into a soft look of relaxation as you lay your head on his chest and hummed in comfort. He could turn the refused kisses into begs for more. He often thought he was descending into madness. 

Some months later, after everything in the world had jumbled itself around and left Daemon adrift, useless and hopeless to the point of self-loathing, he found himself watching you in the gardens from one of the balconies above the south courtyard. 

When Daemon looked at you, he felt his chest begin to fill with something thick and painful. It was liquefied stone crushing each of his organs, it was hot syrup drowning his lungs. Your smile was sad and gentle as you ran your fingers over the embroidery you had just finished. 

To know he was filled to the brim with love for you and you had nothing more than indifference to offer him now was already a kind of crippling pain he now had to endure. To know he had broken your heart long before he had even cared for it was another. But to live for the rest of his life knowing he had trapped you, that it was the devotion and loyalty you gave him unconditionally simply because you were married to him, that your marriage to him was the sole reason you would never be happy… That was the worst pain of all. 

Taglist: @mornixgstar18 @carmalcandylover @aedhyratargaryen @kamcrazy123 @wallacewillow0773638 @yo-alli @kishie8 @freyathehuntress @moonlightstuffs @snowflames-world @adombtch @snowtargaryen @mrs-kise-ryota-kise-wife @she2rreal @immyowndefender @dantefairyfrogs @vavafaure1994 @loveyouok @tallrock35 @whitehare7701 @claraisme23 @carl-grimes-eye-socket @dilfluvr4evr @seasonswinter @mah1644 @diqnawn @anna-2401 @vanessyyyu @ninihrtss @inkedmetanoia @m3hr33n33

[bluexiao]

#monsieur neuvillette’s relationship headcanons

NOTES. finally a work after months. i missed this, tbh. but hey, here’s my new husband for you. might also have a part 2 of this i feel like i haven’t written everything yet

WARNING. real identity spoilers (nothing too explicit from the current archon quest i haven’t even done it yet oops)

NEUVILLETTE

(Before)

Before the relationship began, it took a long while for him to truly process what he had been feeling towards you—to be frank, he even thought he was getting sick (which was impossible. He never got sick.), though that thought comes to an end the moment he realizes that the effects only happen when he is around you. Only you.

He had heard of love before. Had seen love. Had read about love. Not just the platonic or familial ones, but also romance and more. And yet, he does not understand them, simply because he considers them as something someone like him would not eventually feel.

And yet, it all changed when he first saw you. Curiosity turns to admiration, and admiration turns to anxiety—which is never good; the sweating on his hands and the back of his neck, and the pressure on his chest whenever your presence comes.

He was only reminded of the term romance when he consulted Sigewinne about it.

“Does it only happen around a certain person, Monsieur?” “Monsieur, I think you are simply in love,” she says. “Humans do tend to have the same symptoms but it does not necessarily mean you are sick. It appears to me that you feel the same as well. Does their presence give you happiness?”

He did not even need to ponder over his answer. What he does ponder over is how he should deal with it. The evidence is overwhelming, and there is only one verdict. And yet, where does this lead to?

Contrary to popular belief, he will confess as soon as he is sure of his feelings. He is an honest and honorable man. He would confess his feelings if he could, but it did take some time knowing how busy his schedule was.

The only thing that probably was able to push him to go through was the Melusines. It took them weeks to have him clear his schedule up for a nice little dinner date that they had planned and suggested to the Monsieur.

“Recently, I have come to realize that I have developed a romantic interest with you, Y/n.”

“I do not intend to put pressure on you. I shall accept whatever judgment you make. I do not wish for you to change how you treat me in any way.”

“If you may… I can only ask to indulge in this meal with you for tonight. Your company eases me greatly.”

Brutally honest. It may even drive you crazy how this all seems so easy on him.

But in reality, his palms were sweating underneath his gloves and the slightly cool sensation of the utensils as he blurts out his intentions for setting up such an occasion. His heart was pounding but he could not process whether this was about how you looked especially good tonight or his nervousness with finally confessing his feelings for you.

Or maybe both. Either way, all evidence of such leads to only one thing—you.

Bonus; I do think he’ll reveal who he is first before he gets into a relationship with you but that really depends on how observant you are.

(During)

It was a surprise to him, at the very least, how he had managed to keep you as his lover despite what he lacks. He knew how he was not well-versed with “feelings” per se (just in his mind), but you, the angel that you’ve always been, chose to be with him.

The sudden change did not occur to him much, actually. But he did notice how much his mind lingers to you more often than not, and how he will end up recalling how you are now his one and only lover.

It takes time for him to adjust, but it all started with frequent conversations (much more than before), then sending flowers to your place every other day (constantly), though most of the time they’re delivered by someone else, knowing how busy he is as the Chief Justice.

Or when he started to first brush his gloved fingers to yours.

When he does something, it will be constant. (Maybe this also comes from being responsible and disciplined as shown by being the Chief Justice). All the things that he did before, he still does them now—unless you’ve told him no, of course.

He is definitely a man of his honor!!

And would always ask for your permission first before he touches your hand, or holds them, or hugs you, or kisses you.

He does like pampering and showering you with “offerings” though.

Stuff like buying your favorite flowers or trinkets once or twice a week, making sure you have enough supply of the best water out there. And even with how he always has an umbrella or parasol for you (ones he got ever since you got together; one in his office, one that’s foldable for him to carry under his coat, and one he gave to you for every time you leave the house.

Through the course of the relationship, he learned about the beauty of life, which is how he sometimes brings you flowers despite its short life. However, he still secretly prefers giving you trinkets for your hoard of gifts from him, mostly because it symbolizes his everlasting love for you. (He’s very romantic like that, even if he does not know he is)

He will also introduce every single Melusine in Fontaine. At first, it may surprise you how he knows all of their names, but it will surprise you even more the moment you realize you could do the same. If you do, he’ll love you even more (which he thought was impossible at first as he knew he already loves you very much).

The Melusines will treat you as their other parent the moment it is known amongst all of them that you’re his lover. Sigewinne, for one, would always give you a personalized gift. She would also always send you letters to ask how you are and probably be quite excited whenever you accept an invitation for a cup of tea.

Monsieur Neuvillete is not jealous, but he is possessive and territorial. It’s a dragon instinct, forgive him.

It also comes with being protective. Though he’s not feral, he would make sure to always shield you away from any harm, or anything that might take you away.

One time, he had to deal with a bunch of… shameless individuals who had tried to make a move on you, and though he has great trust on you, he cannot help but have the same self-deprecating voices in the back of his mind.

Though instinctively, he finds himself buying you trinkets or flowers again.

“Hm? You just gave me one earlier, didn’t you?” You look up with a confused look but still hold that smile that stirs butterflies in his chest.

He nodded. “The flowers reminded me of you, mon amour. I could not help but feel the urge to give it to you.”

It does not stop him from giving you offerings.

Of course, he cannot just give up on you. The ruling of whoever deserves your love and affection the most. Of course, he is at an advantage knowing that he’s already your lover.

“Is there something wrong?” You looked up to him, hearing the pitter patter of the rain outside through the taps on the windows. You had your hands on his shoulders, gently rubbing them with your palms.

“It’s nothing, mon cœur, no need to worry.” He flashes you a reassuring smile, and yet, at the back of his mind, he wondered how you could have thought to check on him. Is it perhaps the gloominess in the atmosphere?

You frown as you look at him intently, “There are times when you’d shower me gifts with a saddened look on you. I’m worried, is all.”

He stares at you then. Ah, so you noticed, he thought.

He chuckles as he shakes his head and stands right next to you. “May I?” He opens his arms and you nod and dive right into his chest. He enclosed you into an embrace, relishing the feeling of your warmth.

He kisses your forehead then. “Allow me to bask in your presence for a while.”

For short, one of the best. Definitely a 100/10.

[forever-rogue]

Ok, just got an idea of tasm.

What about a first introduction with May, like reader is so anxious about meeting her and when she finally does so she realizes May is so sweet with her 🥺

Aunt May being so sweet with Peter's girl just got me ✨😭

AN | No, but May is the best! She’d absolutely adore Peter’s girl❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A million thoughts were racing through your mind; unfortunately none of them were good. You were about to meet the most important woman in Peter’s life, beside you, and all you wanted was to make a good first impression. You had no clue what you would do if she didn’t like you. You’d probably be dumped and heartbroken. 

“Stop being stupid,” you groaned at your reflection as you fixed your hair. You wanted to look perfect without looking like you were trying too hard. Ugh. You were definitely overthinking this. It was supposed to be a simple dinner, not some sort of life changing event. But…it kind of was. For you anyway.

“Hey Bug,” you hadn’t heard Peter let himself into your apartment. When you looked up, you found leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as you met his gaze in the mirror, “you look beautiful.”

You relaxed at his words, letting out a soft sigh as you turned around to face, “are you sure? It’s not too much or not enough?”

“It’s perfect,” he took a few steps closer to you, “you could wear anything and it would be perfect.”

“Shut up,” you gently pushed at his chest but he didn’t budge, instead only softly laughed, “I’m nervous, Pete.”

“Don’t be nervous,” he cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “there’s no reason to worry. May is going to love you - she might even end up loving you more than me.”

“I hope she likes me at least a little bit,” you whispered, leaning into soft touch, “what if she doesn’t for some reason?”

“That’s impossible,” he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as you huffed at him, “trust me.”

“I do…mostly,” you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips, “but you know, the whole not telling me about the fact that you were Spider-Man doesn’t help your honesty credibility.”

“To be fair, Bug, I didn’t and wasn’t going to tell you,” you raised an eyebrow at him as his cheeks flushed lightly, “I mean, I was going to eventually…but you beat me to it.”

“You weren’t exactly subtle, Peter Parker,” you remembered the evening you discovered his alter ego like it was yesterday, “you came into the bedroom in the suit and bleeding profusely, remember? Or did you lose too much blood and forget?”

“I remember,” he mumbled softly. It was one of the first nights you’d stayed over at his apartment but duty had called; he left in the middle of the night while you slept soundly in his bed. He’d intended to be back and next to you in bed before you even woke up. Unfortunately it hadn’t happened that way at all, “it was…not how I planned on telling you.”

“Nevertheless, you lied to me…sort,” you waved your hand around before leaning against the counter with a heavy sigh, “so what you’re doing that to me now and you just know May will hate me?”

“I…” he paused for a moment, incredulous at your little theory as you pouted at him, “do you really think I’d do that?”

“No,” you sighed softly, your shoulders sinking as he pulled you into a hug, tucking you perfectly into his frame, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “I just want this to go well, Pete.”

“It will,” he rubbed your back in soothing circles as you mumbled something against his chest, “it’s just May and me. Nothing is going to go wrong.”

“Fine,” you finally gave in as Peter chuckled softly, “let’s just go and do this.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You walked up the steps to May’s house, clutching on Peter’s hand tightly; if he was superhuman you might have even broken it. In your other hand was a bouquet of flowers that you’d picked up just for May. Your heart was beating so loudly you were positive that Peter could easily hear it. Once he knocked, you listened with bated breath for the door to be answered, trying to see if you could hear May coming.

And yet, it still took you by surprise when the door was gently opened and there stood May Parker, the woman, the myth, and the legend herself. She was a smaller woman but she had a giant presence about her; you could see how much Peter loved her just from the way his lit up, “Aunt May!”

“Peter,” he gently let go of your hand and wrapped her up in a giant hug that caused her to chuckle at him, “it’s good to see you, sweetheart.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek before shifting her gaze over to you. You half expected to see some sort of judgment, but in reality you saw nothing of the short. If you thought she softened for Peter, she was even more gentle with you. 

“Hi Mrs. Parker,” you held out the flowers to her, hoping you didn’t appear too intimidated, “it’s nice to finally meet you.”

She said your name, so warm and tenderly, before taking the flowers and pulling you into a hug as well. There must have been something in the Parker family that caused all of them to give the best hugs; Peter probably learned from her, “it’s so good to finally meet you. It feels like it’s been so long and Peter never shuts up about y-”

“Alright, alright,” Peter’s cheeks pinked as you looked at him with a huge grin. Your heart felt like it was going to burst with all the affection that you had for these two people, “let’s, ugh, get inside before it gets too cold.”

“Oh Peter, don’t get all shy,” May wrapped her arm around your shoulders before leading you inside, “I think it’s wonderful that you have some to love so much.”

You flashed him a grin over your shoulder as you stepped inside the Parker home; he was a very bright red that gave you enough pause to hang back and press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Peter, can you please put these beautiful flowers into some water for me,” the kitchen and the entire house smelled absolutely divine. You’d been told that she was a good cook and that almost made your mouth water in excitement, “dinner’s almost ready.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you couldn’t help as but cast curious eyes around the kitchen and dining area, looking at all the photos that were hung up and items that were displayed. A photograph of a young Peter caught your eye as you walked over to it and looked at it closer. He was super cute as a kid and you couldn’t help but wonder what your kids would like…you hoped that you’d get to find out one day, “oh my gosh, Pete! You were so precious!”

“Peter really was the cutest and sweetest boy,” May agreed as Peter looked mortified; he wished the floor would open up and swallowed him whole, “he was such a good boy.”

“Wonder what happened?” you teased as May laughed. Alright, you already liked her a lot. Your nerves were still there, but they weren’t nearly as bad as they had initially been. 

“Oh haha, you’re so funny,” he stuck his tongue out at you, before instinctively going to set the table. May had really raised him well, “one day I’ll get to see your old pictures and we’ll see how you like it.”

“It’s so fun to tease you,” you walked back into the kitchen to help May, “besides, maybe one day our kids will be that cute.”

It was no secret that Peter wanted a family one day, and you’d both agreed that you wanted at least one child together. Your comment definitely caused Peter to feel a certain type of way and his eyes grew wide as he looked at you. He was definitely going to hang onto this feeling later when it was just the two of you. May, meanwhile, made a small sound of agreement, “you two will have adorable kids, that’s a given.”

“Oh,” your entire face warmed up as you stole a glance at Peter. He looked a mixture of both excited and embarrassed, “well I guess we’ll just have to wait and see one day.”

That seemed to quell them both as your stomach exploded with butterflies. You knew that Peter would be a great father one day and were equally sure that May would be a wonderful grandmother. You felt lucky to have them in your lives; but then, you’d known that Peter would be something special to you from the day you met him.

May hummed in content as you helped her to finish dinner. She had such a warm and calming presence and you already loved being around her. It was easy to fall into a rhythm and pattern with her and before you knew it, the three of you were sitting around the table and eating dinner. She was an excellent cook and it was such a welcome thing to behold a home cooked meal. 

Afterwards when you were all stuffed, Peter helped May with a few things around the house while the two of you cleaned up. 

“You know,” her voice was tender and gentle as she dried the dishes that you had washed, “I haven’t seen Peter this happy in a long time. It makes me happy to see him doing so well. He deserves it.”

“He does,” you agreed softly, “he makes me really happy too. He’s a good man and I…I’ve never met anyone like him before. He’s special to me.”

“He’s always been a good boy,” she agreed, looking into the living room and finding him softly speaking to himself as he moved some furniture around for her, “it was hard for him, with what happened to poor Gwen, and it took a long time for him to be himself again. I was worried I’d lost my boy too, but slowly over time he got better. And then, when I noticed just how happy he seemed, he told me about you. Well, when he first met you, I should say.”

 “I met him and we were friends for a long time before we started dating,” you looked at her in confusion but she only responded with a knowing smile. You inhaled softly as you looked over at your boyfriend. He must have felt you looking at him because his gaze quickly shifted to yours and his entire face lit up, “oh. Oh.”

“Mhmm,” she put the last of the dishes away before giving your arm a small squeeze, “needless to say I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time.”

“Oh May,” you blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over before hugging her. In truth Parker fashion, she hugged you tightly and rubbed your back in soothing motions, “I’ve been so nervous and excited to meet you. Peter speaks so highly of you and I understand why. Thank you for being so kind and welcoming. Peter is amazing and he always says he owes it to you. I can understand why. You’re both great.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” she promised softly, “as far as I’m concerned you’re family, sweetheart. If you ever need anything or need me to have a word with him, just let me know, alright?”

“I will,” you beamed at her, “I will.”

“Hey May?” Peter walked into the kitchen sheepishly, “did you, umm, make dessert by chance?”

“Of course I did,” she tutted at him before exchanging a look with you, “I made your favorite.”

“Yes!” he kissed her cheeks, “you’re the best.”

“And don’t you forget it!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you and Peter left May’s it was late; you hadn’t expected to be gone for so long but it was just so easy and fun to hang around with Peter and May. Peter held your hand, a knowing  little smile on his face as got into the cab to go back to your apartment. You, naturally, had a big tote full of leftovers to take with you. 

You’d fallen asleep next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He was reluctant to wake you up but he did so gently before scooping you into his arms and carrying you upstairs. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held on tightly, burrowing your face into his chest. 

“That wasn’t so bad was it, Bug?” he asked as he set you down and bent over to help slip off your heels. You felt so incredibly warm and fuzzy at the sweet but simple gesture, “you lived.”

“Shut up, Parker,” you sighed gently as he pressed a kiss to your ankle before standing back and towering over you. You moved to take off his jacket and hung it up by the door, “I think you might be officially demoted to my second favorite Parker.”

“Wow,” he put his hand on his chest and sighed dramatically, “that’s hurtful baby. I should have known better than to introduce the two of you. My favorite women are ganging up against me already.”

“Never,” you reached for his hand and started to pull him towards your bedroom. You were tired and all you wanted was to cuddle up with him. He easily obliged, lacing his fingers through yours, “you’ll always be my favorite, Peter Parker.”

You quickly stripped off your clothes before tugging at Peter’s and getting him down to his boxers. You’d worry about your makeup and everything else later. Peter pulled you into his arms as soon as you were both lying down and under the covers.

“What am I your favorite of?” he whispered, causing goosebumps to raise up on your skin as he ghosted his fingers along your soft skin. 

“My favorite everything,” you replied as thought it was the most obvious thing in the world, “my favorite best friend, my favorite boyfriend, my favorite superhero…all of it.”

“You’re my favorite too,” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“Hmmm,” you hummed in content, “will you stay tonight? No Spider-Man-ing?”

“Yes,” he gave you a gentle squeeze, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Unless it’s an emergency.” 

“Unless it’s an absolute emergency.”

“Good,” you horribly stifled a yawn before settling further into the pillows, “love you, spider-boy.”

“I love you too Bug.”

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Hey, a while back you did a bunch of Genshingirls walking in on their S/O with a body pillow of them. Why don’t we flip the script this time? S/O walks in to see the girls (or guys!) with a body pillow of *them*!

One character I do ask for is Bernadetta.

(Genshin Impact/FE3H) Furina, Ayaka, Yae, Shenhe, Kokomi, Bernadetta, Edelgard, and Marianne with a body pillow of their S/O

The implications of someone making a body pillow of yourself is both hilarious and terrifying.

Furina's eyes go wide once the door opens, leading her to rush something underneath the blanket seeing her S/O.

(S/O) "Hey, I'm ba-...Furina?"

She has her usual smug expression as she dramatically blew a kiss to them.

(Furina) "Ah, welcome back dear! I must say you are home far earlier than I expected!"

(S/O) "Is everything alright? You're sweating a lot."

(Furina) "Ah? This? I just summoned one of my little friends to cool me off is all!"

(S/O) "On our bed?"

...

S/O walked over to them and immediately put their hand on her forehead, stunning her for a moment.

(S/O) "Your face is burning hot! Jeez, no wonder you needed them. Let's get you a change of clothes-"

(Furina) "W-WAIT!"

S/O ripped off the blanket and saw themselves on a pillow, forcing them to make sure they weren't going insane.

Furina for her part was doing her best impression of a tomato, with her two fingers awkwardly tapping the blanket and doing everything in her power to not look them in the eyes.

(S/O) "Why do you...H-How...?!"

(Furina) "L-LISTEN! YOU WEREN'T HOME AND..."

Furina began pouting as she put the blanket up to her face, probably about to explode from embarassment.

S/O was flattered at least, but...who even gave this to her?

(S/O) "Where have you been hiding this whenever I have been home?"

(Furina) "...Closet."

Her muffled voice responded.

Ayaka felt that having a body pillow of her S/O felt so...strange.

It was so weird, who even has this kind of thing of their significant other?!

But...it was not too dissimilar from keeping a picture of them, so maybe....?

Ayaka hides the pillow from everyone, and not a single soul besides her knows about it.

Whenever she was missing them, Ayaka would hold onto the pillow, counting the days until S/O could return.

...Until her door slid open.

(S/O) "Surprise! I'm here early-"

Ayaka's absolutely mortified expression speaks for itself as its inches away from a picture of S/O, pasted onto the pillow.

The two said nothing as they kept unblinking eye contact.

(Ayaka) "...Please don't tell anyone about this."

Yae commissioned an artist that she knows to put S/O onto a pillow.

There was something similar going on with Ei, which gave her this idea to begin with.

Yae put the pillow right smack in the middle of the bedroom and waited for S/O's arrival that night.

She could already imagine their reaction, but why imagine it when you can just see it?

Finally, Yae could hear the door creak open, and her smirk increased tenfold.

(S/O) "Yae, I'm home. Hm, what's that on-"

Yae bursts out laughing when S/O pauses and their face scrunches up upon seeing themselves.

Wiping away a tear from her eye, she greets S/O.

(Yae) "Is something the matter, I thought you'd appreciate me always thinking of you."

(S/O) "Why is it so well drawn?"

(Yae) "I paid someone a substantial amount of Mora to get your likeliness down well, little one.~"

She starts laughing again seeing their exasperated sighing.

Shenhe was gifted a body pillow of S/O, strangely enough by Cloud Retainer.

(Cloud Retainer) "One believes that you would appreciate a reminder of your loved one in physical form. At least, that is what the Traveler has spoken."

And Shenhe not really knowing how ANY human interaction works, took it at face value as well.

After all, Shenhe does feel that strange longing in her heart for S/O, there was at least this nice picture of them to keep her satisfied until now.

S/O eventually comes home to find Shenhe hugging the pillow of themselves in the living room, making them do a double take.

(S/O) "...Shenhe?"

(Shenhe) "S/O. It's good to see you again."

Her eyes slightly narrow.

(Shenhe) "Is something wrong? Your expression is changed."

(S/O) "Is...that a pillow of myself?"

(Shenhe) "Yes. It was a gift from master."

S/O noticed how tightly Shenhe was holding onto the pillow, before they came in, and she proceeded to hug them just as tight.

(Shenhe) "It brings...some comfort when you are not here."

S/O sighed, but gave her a smile.

(S/O) "That's touching...in a weird way."

(Shenhe) "How is a pillow of you weird?"

(S/O) "Hoo boy..."

Kokomi's body pillow of S/O: +1000 Energy

It embarrasses her to no end that the pillow actually boosts her energy.

But if she couldn't cuddle with her S/O, then there was the next best thing!

At least, that was the plan until the real one walked into her hideaway.

(S/O) "Kokomi, I brought some sna-"

She was so tired that she didn't even notice them.

Kokomi has a soft smile, hugging the pillow of them tightly as her shoulders relaxed.

S/O walked up to Kokomi, unsure to call her name again or tap her in the shoulder.

Both would equally startle her, considering.

They would have to do neither, as Kokomi opened her eyes and saw them standing in front of her.

(Kokomi) "AAAGH?! S-S/O?!"

She quickly tried to hide the body pillow behind her before giving up and sighing.

(Kokomi) "I'm...s-sorry."

S/O gave her a smile before hugging her, letting her relax into their embrace.

All the while, respectfully not looking at themselves.

(S/O) "...How long have you had that pillow, Kokomi?"

(Kokomi) "Please don't tease me about that, dear."

Okay, even Bernadetta could admit that having a pillow of her boyfriend/girlfriend was weird.

But...it brought her comfort, and no one really entered her room anyway, so who cares?

It's not like anyone was gonna see it.

She holds onto the pillow like a lifeline, sighing in content.

(Bernadetta) "Oh, Pillow S/O, thank you for bringing me comfort in my times of need..."

(S/O) "...I don't do that?"

(Bernadetta) "Of course you do! Like nothing el-"

She realized that it spoke up, and slowly turned behind her.

(S/O) "...H-Hi."

Bernadetta was completely frozen in place, eyes widened in absolute terror.

(S/O) "Please tell me you didn't get Ignatz to draw that for you-"

(Bernadetta) "I-IT WAS A GIFT, I SWEAR!"

(S/O) "I'm...not sure that's any better, sweetie..."

It was absolutely disgraceful to Edelgard to have a pillow of her S/O!

The Emperor of Adrestia needs to have more tact than...whatever the hell this was.

But at the same time...she didn't have the heart to throw it away.

She instead keeps it, but WELL out of sight of anyone that could find it.

Honestly, Edelgard would rather a thief find her gold than this pillow.

Unfortunately for her, someone worse found it.

(S/O) "Edelgard, is my clothes in the closet? I can't seem to find my jacket."

(Edelgard) "Hm? Oh yes, it should be-"

Her eyes shoot wide open as she quickly spins around, and rushes to the closet door.

She slammed it shut, giving S/O a panicked look.

(S/O) "WOAH! W-What's gotten int-"

(Edelgard) "B-BY THE EMPEROR'S DECREE, I FORBID YOU FROM OPENING THAT DOOR!"

As if on cue, the door instead fell over to the side from Edelgard's strength, and out flopped the body pillow of S/O onto the ground.

(S/O) "..."

(Edelgard) "..."

Marianne truthfully didn't even want this body pillow.

It was gifted to her by Raphael, and she couldn't say no.

The picture portraying S/O was tasteful and quite well drawn, but who keeps a picture of someone they love on a pillow?

It just felt extremely awkward, and Marianne did not want to deal with it.

She was in her room with Hilda, not sure what to do.

(Hilda) "Wow, okay that's kinda creepy. But sweet too, in a weird way!"

(Marianne) "I suppose, but it seems rude to throw it away if it's so well crafted."

(Hilda) "Iunno. Maybe hang it on a wall? It is a picture after all!"

The door to her bedroom opened, and both of them saw S/O enter.

(S/O) "Hey Mari-...Oh, Hilda! What are you doing in here?"

(Hilda) "Heya. Just trying to figure out what to do with this gift."

(S/O) "What gi-....Oh."

All three of them stared at the picture, unsure what to do.

(S/O) "Um...did you?-"

(Marianne) "I did not make this..."

(S/O) "O-Okay good..."

(Hilda) "Well whatever you guys decide to do, just don't let Claude se it!"

Marianne and S/O gave each other an awkward glance, putting it gently into their closet and deciding it'd be best to figure that out later.

They forgot about it, and Marianne gets jumpscared by the pillow of S/O sometimes.

A/N: OH MY GOOOOD IT'S SO NOSTALGIC WRITING FOR 3H AGAIN

[waokevale]

The Overlapped AU [Aka Superhumans disguisted as Dinner Theater workers]

The Owners

The Managers (Engineer & the HR person)

The Waiters

The Security

The Performers (Wes is mostly on cleaning duty though)

The Kitchen staff (the others are usually tasked to help, though very few are actually trusted at all times to be there)

The Bartender and the Host

The Dishwashers

The Clerk & The Supplier

So this AU came to me upon a dream, and I just had to make it real...

The synopsis below:

The event of April 17th 1906 does happen, however instead of Charlie and Maxwell being kidnapped into the Constant, the Constant overlaps with the real world and spreads itself onto Earth.

Charlie and Maxwell in the process become corrupted and have to hide away temporarily. Both of them soon began to hear strange voices, source of which neither is quite sure, telling them, compelling them to hide the corruption's effect from the publicity, for the time being.

They come to a mutual realization they have to fix this mess somehow and hunt down any and all corrupted by the tome, by any means necessary.

(Maxwell still has codex umbra, but it is sealed shut for the time being until he's sure it won't spread more if Their influence. )

But the corruption didn't just appear out of nowhere, it's been leaking way long before Maxwell found the Codex, if to a less prominent extent.

Thus, in few years passing, they form a Dinner Theater, a rather inconspicuous establishment from the first glance. Very quickly they began "hiring" employees, which in reality means tracking down and blackmailing those who have been corrupted but not fully lost themselves to its effects, in order to hunt those who had.

Winona was against the idea at first, as she found out. But seeing the effects of corruption first hand, she quickly had a change of heart and integrated herself into Charlie's new environment.

Eventually they gathered a rather generous amount of people. Once a person's proven to be trustworthy to a point, they're give higher positions in the company.

However those who aren't, are likely to be shunned or "fired" which...you could probably guess what that means.

Many of these people gradually come to terms with the reality of their situation and accept their newfound purpose, being thankful that at least they still have a roof over their head and a warm meal, instead of being viewed as monsters or outcasts to the greater society.

(Wilson though, can't quite accept this notion. He keeps claiming that "this is just a big misunderstanding, I'm just a normal guy!" Yet the truth could be far from it.)

When Maxwell and Charlie hear of the danger looming, they immediately inform their "staff" of the matter. Those who are more experienced in combat come along to face whatever opponent may cross them, while those who aren't, stay behind, to be an additional aid or a medic in case the battle gets too intense.

Whenever any suspicion arises in the town about the shady business going on in that particular building, the two owners alongside their employees practically gaslight anyone and everyone into believing they're but the most regular entertainment center.

The characters who have either willingly or unwillingly lost their humanity, mostly in the physical sense, are given special devices constructed of Thulecite and bits of nightmare fuel (made by Winona, Wicker and the main two), which effectively hide away their true identity, or surpress the effects of their ailment.

There's also a few other people important to this story, especially the One, which even Charlie and Maxwell refer to as "The Boss", though what many most recent hires don't know, is that there's someone who's in a position much higher than the owners themselves, controlling their every move.

Correlating to that, another person, or rather, a set of people per se, working for a much different cause. Though most of them are "people" in only a visual sense of the word.

And while, there might be someone inside the well-known around town diner, who just might be more than what appears on the surface, literally and metaphorically this time.

__________

If you're interested to learn more about this AU, do let me know. If you have any questions, I'm happy to hear and answer them!

[tothosewhoyearnforit]

stress relief - itzy yeji

-word count: 3245 words (longest to date :D)

-the yeji fic from many weeks ago. i finally finished it. i have something special that's nearly done. (i promise this time. it was a collection of spare time over a few months)

-dom!yeji, aggresive blowjob, riding, doggystyle, sweaty sweaty sweaty, facial

The stale stench of the air conditioned office clung onto you as you entered the bar.

Being in the bar was the last place you’re supposed to be this month. After just receiving a promotion at your workplace, the workload placed on you gradually kept snowballing to a point of no return. But you couldn’t just give up. Well, first of all, you really needed this job. It paid well, now that you had the promotion. Furthermore, times are changing, there really isn’t very good job stability now and getting fired and being “free” was not to be an option. 

You should’ve been at home, working and completing the reports due next Monday and getting ready for the presentation on Wednesday. Then taking note of all the shipments and settling the deal with the customer from Italy. But eh, it was a Friday, one night wouldn’t hurt right ? 

Or so you thought.

Three quarters through your drink, at around what was probably 11pm, a show begins.

The lights were cut for a brief moment, before spotlights focused onto the pole in the middle of the room. And out comes 5 gorgeous vixen clad in jet black costumes. Then, the music cues. 

Guess who loves you, naya na.

It’s a really, really catchy song and it made the atmosphere super stiff, as if all five of the women were demanding attention and silence as they performed. 

Do I show you? Noya-no.

Okay, this is actually really good music. And good lord those women are gorgeous. 

Ajik time-i anya nan

Jom deo gakkai jom deo gakkai geureoda gapjagi ssak

The choreography too, jesus christ.

But in particular, one of the women is catching your eye. The way her luscious firey orange hair, jewelry embedded within, moves in perfect tandem with her body, which by the way, is absolutely killing it. Every single dance move, to the smallest body pop, is quite literally perfect. Flawless. She’s wearing a sleeveless top and it’s really turning you on. Her arms are so gracious, and you’d love to feel them all over your body. Her collarbones and neck, they’d look so much better with your lovemarks on them. And the little bit of breast peeking out from the top. It’s more than enough to get your heart racing, and you take another sip of your icy cold drink to properly brace yourself for whatever they have left in store.

Imma steal it mameul humcheo

You are gonna love me.

That’s absolutely incorrect. You’re more than loving them, you’re fucking captivated by them.

Gyeoljeongjeogil ttae ippareul deureonaeneun type 

And suddenly, the orangehead takes the stage. 

The lyrics become an absolute blur to your ears as all your mind is fixated on is the absolutely stunning woman. God, she fucking looks like a cat too. Those damn fucking eyes are so… succubus like. And after twirling her fingers in your direction, she suddenly does a slut drop, squatting while spreading her legs apart. Now your eyes are staring at her milky thighs that are on full display under the spotlight. A million things are running through your mind right now, and none of them was related to your work life in any sort of way.

You’ll never know.

Her left thigh moves,snapping you out of your momentary hypnosis and your eyes quickly dart back up and you see her staring at you, a smirk dashed across her face. 

The rest of the song plays on but your mind is now playing that same slut drop moment over and over again. Eventually, the song ends and all 5 of the women are panting, sweat starting to collect at their foreheads. They retreat behind the stage quickly and the rest of the club goes on like the performance of their lives didn’t just happen. 

.

.

Give or take 10 minutes, you are on the way back from a toilet trip. At your table, you are greeted with a very much welcome surprise. The same fiery haired girl is sitting in the seat opposite of yours, watching you make your way back to your seat. 

“Hey there oppa.” Her voice is a knife full of confidence, laced with venom. 

“H-hey. Nice performance out there.” You grab your drink again, needing a punch of ice to hide your nervousness. But it’s so hard to maintain composure, especially when your eyes are looking at everything but her own cat eyes. 

“I know. You clearly enjoyed it. Or rather, you enjoyed me.”

“Was I really that obvious?” That was definitely the alcohol talking. You would have said something like “Sorry” or “I didn’t mean to.”, but no, you were playing the fool, like an absolutely rizzless bastard.

“My group has 5 members, yet every time I moved position, your gaze was glued onto me.”

“Well, you are really, really hot.”

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Bring the glass to your mouth again, shit. It’s fucking empty.

“So, what’s a young office worker doing in our bar?” She asks, elbows on the table, her head supported by her cupped hands as she leans in. 

“Well, to be fair, I walked in thinking it was a regular bar. I just needed a drink to take my mind off of work.”

“Are we not a regular bar? Anything special about this bar?” She asks, clearly trying to poke at you, like a cat playing with a ball of yarn.

You take another awkward sip of your drink, which was just melting ice at this point.

The conversation continues hazily and you guys chat for what must be hours until the distance between both your faces was probably the size of your drink.

“Can't imagine how stressed you must be.” Her right hand falls into your left, fingers tracing your forearm as she whispers. “Want to get out of here? I’ll get rid of all your stress for you…”

Ah, an offer you couldn't refuse. Now that’s some business I don't mind getting done right now.

“Say less… Um, I didn't catch your name?”

“Name’s Yeji. Don't worry oppa, you're gonna be moaning my name all night.”

And in a flash, you're both out of the club and in your car. You don't waste a single second. Foot on the pedal and you're on the streets of Seoul, zipping past the buildings of the city. 

Yeji, in the meantime, has other plans.

She takes your hand, and places it on her thigh. You can feel her gaze, waiting to see what your next move is. Were you gonna retract your hand and focus on getting home quick and safely? Or were you gonna start the study of Yeji’s body right then and there?

Obviously the latter.

Your hand roams around the silky smooth skin of hers. Pinky occasionally dipping into the gaps in her pants and rubbing against her inner thigh. You hear Yeji suck in a deep breath, the horniness evidently getting to her.

Fuck, fucking red light!

You seize the opportunity to look at Yeji, she’s now grinding against your exploring hand and you can't help but sneak a finger into her pussy. 

Green light. And your foot is back on the pedal. Finally, you reach the last turn into your apartment.

As soon as you get out of the car and into the elevator, Yeji pounces on you. Your hands catch onto her thighs for stability. Your lips crash against one another, her teeth biting your lower lips. 

Ding. Elevator door opens.

Door. Open. Bedroom. Bed.

No time to even register a logical sequence of actions. You toss her against your bed. Yeji is now a panting sweaty mess, but it doesn't matter. She looks even more gorgeous with the thin layer of sweat across her skin. Collarbones, arms and armpits glistening with sweat. You pin her hands above her head and nibble on her neck. Then, tongue out, you start collecting the sweat, from her armpit, across her chest and then from the middle of her neck to behind her ear, where you whisper, “You taste fucking amazing.”

“I know.”

You reach behind and pull down the zipper leading right to her tailbone, then help the foxy girl out of the one piece top. You pause for a moment to take in the sight before you. A smoking hot dancer is lying on your bed in nothing but a strapless bra and a thin black thong and some knee high boots. Yeji’s body is fucking picture perfect. Tight midriff, perky breasts, juicy thighs, not to mention her pretty face.

“Let me put on a show oppa. Just for you.”

She gets off the bed and you take her spot on the edge of the bed. Yeji turns around and takes off the bra, placing it on the ground next to her. Then, she bends over, putting her perky ass on display for you as she pulls off the lacy thong from her slender toned legs.

“You know, I should charge extra for this performance.”

You wouldn’t mind paying any amount to see this performance if you were being honest. 

“Boots on or off oppa ?”

“On.”

Yeji then smiles, tosses her thong onto your face, allowing you to grab a deep whiff of her sex. In front of you, Yeji is back in her slut drop position, but this time it’s even more erotic because she’s wearing nothing but the boots. Her pussy is on full display as she spreads her legs open, with just a little bit of hair going down the middle.

“Fuck, Yeji…” Your cock was throbbing within the confines of your pants with her tiny little strip show.

“Told you you’d be moaning my name.”

Yeji then straddles your lap, looks into your eyes while unbuttoning your shirt. 

“Let’s get all that stress out of your body, oppa. Think about nothing but me, okay?”

“You don’t even need to ask Yeji-ah.”

You pepper her neck with kisses as she peels your shirt off. She then lowers herself, hands grazing across your body, down to your pants which she pulls down. Finally free, Yeji purrs when she sees your length. 

“Wow, it's huge, oppa. Can’t wait for it to be deep inside my pussy.”

She gathers some spit on her hand and uses that same hand to stroke your cock, taking a cold fingertip across your sensitive tip each time she reaches your head. Each swipe across sent you nine realms ahead. It wasn’t clear if it was the alcohol or Yeji’s pure skill at this, but all you could hear was the loud hammering of your heartbeat. Or maybe that was the lewd sound of her saliva being spread over your length. Then, after spontaneously deciding that your cock was ready for the onslaught that was to come, Yeji pushes both your legs off the ground and onto her shoulders and lets the front portion of your cock rest in her mouth. Your balance is shifted. You’re now staring at the ceiling, stimulation after stimulation speeding down your nerves from your cock to your brain. You feel her mouth bobbing up and down on your length, her skillful tongue working its way across its veiny landscape. You try to will yourself to get up to watch the spectacle happening before your eyes but the pleasure drags you the fuck back down and all you can do in response is let out weary breaths and sinful moans while your toes curl and leg muscles spasm. 

And your cock isn’t even all the way through.

Yeji plunges her head down like a vulture diving into the carcass of a dead buffalo, and you feel that sharp nose of hers bump into your pelvis. The sudden action takes you by surprise and, from god knows where this submissiveness came from, you arch your back and let out a sound that you swear to never to make again. You feel saliva coating your nutsack now but when Yeji slowly removes her mouth from your cock, letting the cool wind graze your cock, all you want to do is beg Yeji to put your cock back inside her mouth. But that need not be done, because as you have a brief moment to register the influx of sensations, she hungrily goes back down onto you. Her prey. You would kill to see her eyes right now, staring straight into your own as she watches you submit to her. But then again, from the amount of noise you were making, it was pretty evident that she had you in the palm of her hand. It was just twice. Just twice that the whole length of your cock was engulfed by her mouth, but it drived you to the absolute edge and you felt like your first load was about to come.

“Fuck, Yeji. I- I- I’m gonna fucking…”

Maybe you shouldn’t have given her the verbal cue. Because just as you feel the gates of heaven about to open, she quickly withdraws. The feeling of the climax fading away throughout your crotch. You look at her with a face of discontent, displeasure and anger.

“Can’t have you busting so soon,” she says, chuckling to herself as she climbs over your vulnerable naked body after kicking off her boots, rubbing circles on her slickening pussy. “I'll let you cum deep down my throat some other time.” 

She climbs over you and hovers above your crotch. Grabbing your stimulated, twitching cock in one hand, she lines it up with the folds of her pussy and in one fell swoop, with no prior warning that she was going to go all the way down in one shot, she sits on your pelvis, practically impaling her pussy with your cock. 

“Anggh! Fuck!” A sharp, shrill moan of pleasure erupts from her mouth as her ass rests on your pelvis. Your hands wondrously find their way to her toned sweaty thighs, grazing the muscle on it in pure wonder and amazement. 

“You’re so fucking hot Yeji ah, and so freaking tight!” The fiery redhead doesn’t say a word, but she continues the ride. Hands on your pectoral muscles, Yeji displays her body isolation skills learned from dance. Her gaze fixes onto yours once again as she moves her hips up and down and you can only imagine what her ass looks like as it does this motion. But imagination always becomes reality when Yeji is around. The sexual chemistry between the two of you is just perfect, or maybe Yeji just knows what you so desperately want but is too shy to voice out. She turns around, her hands resting on your legs this time as she does the same vertical wave motion with her hips once again. Her beautiful butt is like a hypnotic pendulum, your eyes fixed on the gorgeous peach in front of you, it’s just irresistible to slap. And so you do. 

Slap! 

“Angh!” Crimson locks of hair get flung up into the air as Yeji throws her head back in response.

You bring a palm down on the flesh and watch how it ripples in response, a red handprint faintly appearing at the spot that was struck. Such a goddamn vixen. Is the only thought that runs through your mind, perhaps the only thought that has been running through your mind the entire night as soon as you laid your eyes on the foxy woman. Her pulsing butthole intrigues you as her hips work their magic, and you can’t help but take your index finger, and slowly slide it into her puckered hole. As your finger snakes its way in, her anal walls clamp down on it until your whole finger up till your knuckle has been engulfed. 

“Holy shit! Just like that oppa! Stuff both my holes up!” 

You withdraw your finger and this time, using both your index and middle finger, you embark on yet another tight fit into her anal cavity. Yeji’s hips start to slow down as she reaches the pinnacle of her stimulation. 

“Fuck-ah! Cumming!”

Her body convulses violently and you feel her muscles contract around your submerged fingers and your cock. You give her alluring buttcheeks another firm slap that echoes throughout the darkness of the night and watch as she slowly climbs off of you.

“You haven’t cum yet oppa…”, she whines, still in her lustful trance. “And my pussy is still yearning for a good pounding.” She wiggles her hindparts in front of you in a doggy position, spreading her pussy lips for you to see. You line yourself up behind her, give that gorgeous ass of hers another firm slap before sending your cock back into its rightful embrace. 

“Oh fuck…” Your cock’s reentering of Yeji’s tight pussy is like getting back into the swimming pool after being exposed to the cool air for too long. Warm. Wet. Refreshing. Her vaginal muscles are still so full of vigor despite having just came, almost as if they were desperately trying to wring you dry. Her scarlet nails dug into the bedsheets as you picked up a steady pace of thrusting your hips. From the back, you bunched up her fiery hair into a makeshift ponytail while your other hand rested nicely on her hip.

“That’s it! Fuck me harder! Use me as your fucking stress relief toy oppa!” That entire dialogue was more than a green light to you. Tightening your core to its limits, you picked up the pace, slamming your hips ever so desperately, with Yeji letting out a raspy moan with every smack that reverberated throughout the night. 

“Holy- Angh! FUCK! I’m gonna cum oppa! I’m gonna fucking cum!” Yeji cries out. Her pussy constricts around your cock for the second time of the night, this time an erotic geyser of squirt ensues, covering your thighs in her slick. Your own orgasm starts to surface. Pulling out of her pussy, you flip Yeji onto her back and climb over her. You point your cock at her and aggressively jerk yourself off to the finish line. 

“That's it. Cum for me. Cover me in your cum oppa. Paint your slut in-”

Yeji is interrupted by streaks and streaks of cum erupting from your cock in what must be your biggest orgasm to date, painting her sharp features, her chin, nose and eyes. The sweaty, panting mess sticks out her sharp tongue in an attempt to collect some food samples. 

“Oh, fuck… Yeji ah.” is all you manage to squeeze out as the last drops of your semen land on her face. 

“Gosh, you sure came a lot.” 

You collapse beside her, both of you sweaty messes. “What can I say? I had a lot of stress pent up inside me.”

Yeji gets up, and walks away from the bed. You still lay there, utterly spent, watching her hypnotizing body sway from left to right.

“Where are you going?”

“To the shower you dummy.”

A brief moment of silence follows as you are unsure of how to reply. Do you join her? Maybe she’s tired and doesn’t want round two.

But your thoughts get interrupted as she makes the choice for you.

“Oppa, are you not joining me?”

Suddenly, your body is full of vigor once more as you imagine the two of you soaped up together in the shower, feeling each other and exploring more of each other’s body. You excitedly hop off the bed and scurry to the shower. It was going to be a long, long night.

[shinobushaori]

Hey dere 🤓. Could you do a Jealous Shinobu x Fem reader. The gist is Shinobu has been busy with helping patients and with Hashira work making reader feel alone. She talks to Shinobu about it but Shinobu just suggest to make friends with a hashira. Y/n ends up becoming bestfriends with Giyuu. Y/n tells Shinobu she made a hashira friend but didn’t say who bc Shinobu didn’t ask. Shinobu thought it was Mitsuri, until one day when coming back from a mission she notices Giyuu and reader hanging out. Reader is laughing loudly and Giyuu is smiling. Immediately already seeing Giyuu smile, upsets Shinobu but she boils in anger when realizing he’s smiling at reader. She marches in anger to them and tries getting in between them. Y/n’s confused and notices Shinobu’s odd behavior but doesn’t question her. Shinobu keeps on being touchy with Y/n infront of Giyuu making it awkward. Shinobu’s also bragging about their relationship to Giyuu. Eventually Giyuu leaves and Y/n immediately asks Shinobu why she’s acting like this. They fight a bit because Y/n finally made a friend and Shinobu’s all jealous. Y/n leaves to be alone and Shinobu thinks hard. Shinobu realizes how she’s been acting and feels bad so she tries apologizing to Y/n who is locked in her room.

A/N: My longest oneshot yet. Sorry this took a whole ass week to make!! I yapped at first when writing it then absolutely hated it and butchered it until it was just an ok for me. Theres a little change that tbh u wont rlly notice. I hope you like it!

UNEXPECTED FRIEND

- kochou shinobu x female!reader

warnings: none i think, lesbians wanting each other too much they create unnecessary chaos(/j)

word count: 5.7K

"Okay, can you stop that?!"

You sigh for possibly the 5th time this day and Aoi has had enough of your antics.

For the whole morning you've been gloomy, broody and absolutely pathetic, a stark contrast to your usual chirpy, mostly childish demeanor. She already does have an inkling of what could be likely upsetting you.. Well, more like who because there's only one person who could retract that much of a reaction from you.

Usually, she could not care less. Your relationship with Shinobu was not her business and never will be, she hopes. Rolling eyes thrown towards your direction when the two of you are acting unprofessional in front of patients, sure, that has happened and probably will more. But this? If she had to sit through your pathetic and absolutely not subtle way of sulking, she might just confront Shinobu herself.

Aoi pinches you and you recoil, snapping out of your trance before you eventually start tearing up.

"It's nothing, Aoi-chan.." You blink your blurred sight before looking down.

"It's just.." You bit your lip, "..she's been busy and I miss her, that's all."

The romantic development between you and Shinobu wasn't easy at all, never will be, you lament. She was a Hashira, a position many admired including yourself. They had many duties to attend to. Either slaying demons or patrolling in their supposed location. Not to mention the added work on your girlfriend, who had the proud title of the saviour doctor of the Demon Slayer Corps. Perhaps this was what attracted you the most.

She was selfless, caring, and endlessly talented. Catering to many, tending to their injuries and slaying demons along the way, all that with such a pretty smile. You've long accepted that there will be no such thing as endless peaceful days between the two of you as lovers. There will always be circumstances that need Shinobu and her limited attention.

But sometimes, you wish you could be selfish for once.

Make time pause or maybe just slower, so you could enjoy the moments you have with her and heal the longing you had in your heart. Wake up in the mornings with boring, mundane worries such as what to cook for your family, or how to stop Shinobu from being flirty in front of the girls. Not— worrying if you could see your lover be alive for another day after a hectic time at demon slaying work.

"You stupid girl, have you even talked about it with Shinobu-sama?"

You shrink in your place, silent.

Aoi shakes her head, scowling at you. "Well, you should! You should know by now that Shinobu-sama cares for you and would want you to open up rather than doing whatever it is you're doing!"

She takes the mountain of clothing on your side and glares at you. "So, go ahead and talk to her now!"

You flinch, heart tugging at her words. "Wha-what!? Now!? Aoi-chan, don't be ridiculous! With the amount of injured slayers this month, she's barely functioning as it is! No way, that's too much!"

Aoi rolls her eyes, "Fine!" She gives you an accusing point of her finger.

"But you better talk to her soon about it, okay!? Now, help me with these and quit sulking as well!"

"Ye-Yes!"

Aoi, as harsh her words are, she's a good kid you're glad to have as your family.

-

Aoi's words has stuck itself in your mind the whole day you did chores alongside the other girls and it wasn't long before night fell and you gathered the courage to talk to her.

As you heard a muffled, audible "Come in." You slid the door open and inhaled at the sight of Shinobu Kocho, in all her glory. She's still wearing her uniform despite it being already late into the night, she must have been too busy to change again.

You smile as you catch her eye, setting her warm dinner on her work table.

"Hey, beloved. I heated up your dinner."

She smiles at you and gives you a grateful nod. "I appreciate that, thank you."

You hum as you stood behind her, arms sneakily slithering around her head in a playful manner, lightly hugging her head from behind. You grin at the blush coating her cheeks.

"You've been here for so long. Why not take a break already after you finish dinner?" With me.

Shinobu seem to give it a thought, before glancing at the piling paperworks. She lightly grimace and you frown when she shook her head apologetically.

"Sorry, beloved." She spins around to give you a short kiss. "As much as I want to, I need some of these done tonight."

You nod grimly, trying to not make your disappointment obvious. "I understand, but don't you go overworking yourself, okay?"

Shinobu, who had always been good at reading you like an open book, caught on easily. She takes your cheek, caressing it with her thumb. You close your eyes, hand bringing up itself to clasp with her own. You take in the familiar aroma of wisteria that had always lingered itself around the woman and seem to ingulf you in her work office.

"[Name].. you can always talk to me about what's on your mind, okay?"

As usual, your composure easily crumbled under her intense gaze. Your shoulders drop and Shinobu stops the urge to coo at your protruding bottom lip.

"It's been lonely without you.."

Shinobu sighs, taking you in a warm embrace. She hears you sniff and her heart painfully tugs. Just as much as you, she's longed long for your presence as well. Wanting nothing more but to bask in the warmth and love you've always provided for her.

Alas, duty calls and instead she has to disconsolately spend her time away from you, who's usually busy with other chores as well.

Suddenly, your arms around her waist tighten as you rub your head further down her neck. Shinobu feels the bubble of laughter pop out, chuckling while stroking your flushed nape.

"You've missed me so much, huh?"

You groan, burying yourself even more. "Of course I do, Shino! I wanna cuddle with you so bad but you're always away.. it's so lonely!"

Shinobu pats your head sympathetically, "I'm truly sorry, [Name]. Y'know if you keep this cute act up, I might just ditch these and kiss you till sunrise."

You immediately recoiled from her touch, face flushed at the absurdity of her words. "Shinobu! That's too harsh! These paperworks are important for a reason!"

She weakly smiles at your words, well aren't you just confusing? She means that as lovingly as possible before giving up and teasingly gives your cheek a kiss. "Hm, you're right.. I'll continue.." She looks up at you expectingly and you redden more at the sight of her battling eyelashes.

"..with some motivation, perhaps?" You groan at her teasing tone, pushing her away and Shinobu simply giggles.

"But I know what might help you, [Name], sweets."

You hum, playing with her fingers and leaning onto her. "Help with what?"

"Your loneliness silly. I'm thinking of.. a friend maybe? I've seen that you.. don't really interact with anyone else other than the girls. That's not a good habit now, is it? You'll be totally friendless, [Name]~!"

You pout at her but nodded. She's right. Looking back, when you just started demon slaying, you preferred to keep things to yourself. Even Shinobu took time to fully invite you in her estate and become one with the family. After all, friendship was intimidating for you, especially in this kind of workplace where death is often the leading reason of friends separating.

The possibility of you having a friend outside of the Estate wasn't unappealing. Not at all. You guess you just don't know where to start and who to befriend.

As if reading your thoughts, Shinobu smiles and leans closer to your ear. Her warm breath worsens the red state of your skin. "Actually, I know someone you might get along with."

You perk up, tilting your head as you catch her purple tinted eyes. "Oh, really?"

Shinobu nodded, "Yes! Actually, they're a very open-minded individual. You'll get along just fine!"

Your eyes seem to sparkle and Shinobu giggles at this. "Okay, who is it? Can you introduce me to them?"

You blinked when your lover shook her head, the familiar grin stretching her lips easily inducing a whine from you.

"Shinobu..!!"

"Uh-uh," She takes your hand and brings it to her lips, trailing soft kisses on your flushed skin.

"You have to befriend them your own, I'm afraid. You need to be sociable, after all!"

You groan, leaning most your weight as you melt like a puddle beside her. "Ehh, but it would be easier-"

"Nope!" Shinobu chirps out and you sulk more.

She smiles and takes you by the cheeks, causing you to look back at her. "Just be yourself, okay? I'm sure the moment you two meet, you'll instantly gain a new friend!"

You sigh, tilting your head onto her hand. "Fine," You stare at her and her smile widens. "But in return, you gotta reserve some of your time for me okay?"

She chuckles at your cheeky words and nods, "Of course, I would want nothing more, my beloved."

-

You walk around the Butterfly Estate, visibly giddy on your feet.

Just not too long ago, you've finally finished all your assigned tasks! Although, double checking the patients was a bit difficult to do, since that roudy trio had invaded the rather peaceful environment of the mansion. Especially and specifically the two slayers, you grumble under your breath.

You've heard of these three, it seems that they occasionally get injured in missions a lot and it always happens when you're away. It wasn't a very good first impression, you concluded.

Actually it was a rather baffling situation to be in, in which one was asking for your hand in marriage despite your many endless attempts of saying that you've been spoken for. While, the other was as annoying as the former, firm on demanding a fight and trying to headbutt you. If it wasn't for the unbelievably patient third guy, you would've suffocated each of them, courtesy by their own pillow.

Either way, you're glad that was over. Thankfully, Aoi was there to save you and threaten them with no lunch, that seems to quickly shut the three up.

You hum a fun tune, thinking of ways you could somehow slither your way in Shinobu's lab, silently giggling at your thoughts.

Speaking of Shinobu, she was still pretty adamant on keeping the mystery person she told you about three weeks ago a secret. Simply waving your attempts of knowing more with a, "They'll visit soon!"

Heck, even the softest kisses wouldn't crumble her composure like it usually does. Gosh, that woman! She's so dreamy you might melt! You thought to yourself as you giggle more.

Although, slips still happened and you slowly knew more about your future friend. You assume they're a Hashira like her. Based on Shinobu's words, they often work together, that basically confirms it. And is in Shinobu's list of close friends as well. They also visit often and get along well with everyone!

You were pretty excited to meet them, they seemed fun to be around. Maybe they'll distract your simple mind for a while until you can't handle it anymore and scratch Shinobu's door until she stops working.

You really hope your desperation won't come to that point, fingers crossed.

You were fully immersed in your thoughts, occasionally chuckling by yourself. Well, until you swerved a corner and suddenly planted face first on something.

Or, wait.. someone?

"Oh, sorry."

You blink, taking a step back as the stranger spoke with a monotone voice. You bowed your head quickly, "I'm sorry for bumping you, sir!"

The man, who was notably a slayer like you was wearing a two-tone haori. One burgundy, the other yellow green with a unique pattern, with blue eyes and black hair tied up to a ponytail. He simply nod once and cleared his throat.

"It's fine."

You both silently stand still, facing each other and you sweat profusely under his intense gaze- or rather his blank one?

Seeing the man having no intention to move whatsoever, you cough to interrupt the silence. "So, uhm.. are you injured, just visiting.. orr??"

Seeing you tilt your head, the man blinks. "Ah," He slowly raises his arm and you suppress the urge to facepalm seeing the terribly bandaged bloody hand. How did you not notice that.

Immediately, you tell him to follow you and he does. You lead him into one of the more quiet rooms and gestures for him to take a seat. He silently did so and you secretly grimaced at the loud silence.

"So, uh.." You gulp, trying to see if smalltalk would work.

"You come here often?"

He blinks at you as your fingers did a quick work on his hand, untying the previous bloodied bandages.

"Sometimes."

You awkwardly give him a glance as he plainly replies, before you nervously chuckle.

"Right, so did this bad cut come from a mission?"

You look down at the wound and it wasn't exactly a very bad cut. It was thankfully only a bit deep and only seem to bleed a lot due to the poorly done wrapping. Still, your mouth involuntarily said so and the man didn't seem to really care much.

As blank as ever he replies, "Training. The wooden sword was a hassle."

You nod, taking the newly set bandages you set aside and started to wrap it around the cut after you thoroughly cleaned it. "Oh, yeah. Pretty relatable. I often get small splinters too, Shinobu always teases me for it. " You smile at the memory of her giggling at your misery while taking her time to slowly pick out the small wood on your skin.

You hear him huff, as if suddenly annoyed. You were confused but chose to focus on your current work. With quick precision, you softly tightened the white material and hum as you straightened yourself, facing the black haired man with a polite smile.

"Alright, that's all! Although, you need to come by often to get these regularly changed." You put away the previous bandages before continuing, watching him eye his hand. "Then, I'll give you a small cream which will help with the irritation afterwards."

He gives you a slow nod, "Thank you, I appreciate it."

Your smile widens and suddenly Shinobu's words enters your mind. Hey, isn't this a good opportunity to befriend someone? The guy looks nice, not one for conversations but you don't mind it! With a new objective in mind, you happily reply. "No problem! I'm [Name], by the way!"

He went silent for a few seconds, enough seconds for your heart to tug and for you to quickly regret saying anything.

"Tomioka Giyuu."

The man, now named Giyuu in your head replies. You nod, happy to get his name but your mind suddenly blanked in realization, the name suddenly being familiar to you.

Tomioka.. Giyuu? As in.. Water Hashira Giyuu?

Your eyes almost plucked out itself recognizing his name. Instantly, your gaze settles itself on his uniform and eyes widened even more seeing his golden buttons. In actuality, he is that Giyuu!

In a state of panic, you quickly bow your head. "Hashira-sama! I-I wasn't aware, I apologize!"

Giyuu was quick to be caught off guard by your sudden change. He stiffly sat still as you continued to deeply bow your head.

"Uhm.."

Finally, you straightened yourself to face him. "Uh, oh! Right, I'll get you a personal room..!"

The man sweatdrops and quickly interrupts you. "That won't be necessary, I'll be leaving soon."

You purse your lips, "Well, If you insist.."

How unlucky! To think the person you bumped into was a Hashira! Thankfully, it wasn't the Serpent Hashira or worse! The Wind! Those two didn't have the best reputation, especially with lower ranks. Although, you know Shinobu will quickly be by your side, you'd rather not get into that kind of situation.

As your lover easily resurface herself in your thoughts, you were quick to relax on your place. Seriously, you're grateful it was Giyuu who you met. What a nice pal.

Wait.

Wait...

A Hashira? Someone you could easily get along? Possibly friends with Shinobu?

"U-Uhm!" You, once again, break the silence making Tomioka look away from his hand, facing you with a small tilt of his head, indicating for you to go ahead.

"Do you.. happen to be close with Kocho Shinobu?"

Hearing her name, Giyuu visibly deadpans but you were too busy staring with sparkling eyes. He looks away and shifted around his seat in discomfort.

"Yes." Was his short reply and your eyes only shines more. He furrows his brows in confusion.

Meanwhile, you were inwardly celebrating. Thoughts all over the place. What an amazing coincidence! The Hashira you accidentally face planted into was Shinobu's mystery friend in the end! Isn't this practically a good sign that the two of you will be good friends after all? As always, Shinobu's right!

Giyuu instantly jolts when you took his hand, shaking it rapidly with a wide smile, "Giyuu-san!"

"Uhm, what is it?"

"Let's be friends, please!"

-

Shinobu breathes out a sigh of relief.

Finally, after the seemingly endless pile of paperwork overflowing around her desk, she has now finished reading over the last one. Just her signature and she'll get her well-deserved break.

And as the pen hovered above the messy sign, she immediately slammed it against the table, breathing out a tired exhale. Shinobu feels an exhausted smile stretch her lips. A week's worth of paperwork, ultimately finished. Unless there's more to come, maybe another order for a set of glass due to the mysterious broken window by the ward, perhaps? Highly likely knowing the current trio residing the estate. Aside from that, nothing else should come in for a whole week.

And she is beyond joyous.

Shinobu stretches her limbs, groaning when her back pops a satisfying muscle. Alright, now that she's free (from paperwork only) for the rest of the week, she contemplates what to do next. Thankfully, she expected this moment and have already requested a break from her demon slaying career. If everything is in order, her work should only consist of being the master of the house and doctor duties.

'Mm..' She looks over her window and sees the bright blue sky and white fluffy clouds hovering over them. 'I suppose it's a bit too early for sleep..'

The Hashira decidedly went out of her office to check on the other residents of the mansion to see if the girls were doing well and particularly, how you've been doing.

To be frank, you've been more distant for the last few days. Well, distant was a bit of a stretch. Shinobu thought while giggling. If she put it bluntly, you weren't as clingy as you usually were. Not that she's complaining since it did help with completing her work but it's just worrying that's all. She's aware though that this must be due to the friend you've gained a few days ago.

Truly, she was proud of you. While you were a friendly creature, often chatting with patients to ease their nerves, it never really went past acquaintances. So, imagine her happiness when you suddenly barged into her office, mindlessly chattering about your new best friend? My, what a surprise it was. Although, she couldn't even comprehend your babbles as you seem to talk faster than she could hear, she's still overjoyed for you.

Did she mention she was also surprised? Shinobu didn't know Mitsuri had already visited the estate. Seriously, that girl is hard to ignore, much less not notice. At the same time, she had to consider that she practically locked herself inside her office so it shouldn't be shocking she didn't hear the usual squeals and shouts echoing around the place.

Either way, she's still happy for you. She's been basically edging you on about your future friendship with the Love Hashira, staying rather vauge on her depiction on the pink haired woman. There were a few close calls but nothing she could easily wave away with a few tender touches.

She grins when the sound of laughter reached her ears, noting it was coming from the rehabilitation room. Maybe training with those troublesome trios?

However, just as she was about to step inside, someone suddenly collided all together onto her.

"Oh! Sorry, Shinobu-sama!" The triplets voiced out apologetically, looking up at her.

"Oh my, be careful girls. What's with the hurry?" Shinobu smiles at them, chuckling at the obvious dampness on their hair and clothes, the bitter aroma of brewed medicine surrounding the three girls.

"Ah, we were-!" Just as Naho was about the explain, your loud laughter suddenly cuts them off and Shinobu blinks when you were basically coughing and crying. She suppress a laugh of her own while the three girls didn't bother and laughed alongside you.

"We're actually just playing around right now! Kanao and Aoi are making lunch so we decided to enjoy ourselves a bit.." She thanks Kiyo for her explanation and was just about to send them off when, "Oh, and we're with Tomioka-sama as well!"

She tilts her head, looking at Naho. "Oh? Tomioka-san is here?"

The triplets nodded, "Yes! He visited earlier."

What a surprise indeed. To think that klutz visited without even bothering on greeting like a normal person should, he will never change, will he? Not very shocking knowing that aloof guy.

She inwardly sighs, letting the girls clean up after themselves and finally entering the room where she found you folded in the middle of the space, body uncontrollably trembling from laughter.

"G-Giyuu, that's- pftahah-!" She couldn't help but grin wider at your current state.

"Having fun, are we?"

You breathed out heavily and looked up before gasping outloud seeing Shinobu, weakly reaching out to her, "'Nobu! Ah- You can't believe what this guy said- pfttt-!" Once again, you fell into a shivering mess, coughing between your laughters.

Shinobu shook her head, walking towards you. She was about to tease your shameless act when she paused in her place, stunned at the sight of the man beside you, usually so reserved and stoic, firm on being by himself yet is currently smiling softly at you as if you've hung the moon and stars.

Suddenly, her chest tightens before an eye unconsciously twitches itself.

You continue to be all sprawled out on the floor, chest heaving and slowly riding out your giggles. Then, you shouted an exhausted cry. "Hah! Gosh, Giyuu! You could've worded that betteraAH-!?"

Both you and Giyuu blink when Shinobu instantly snatched you upright, sight dizzying and air being knocked out of your lungs from the sudden grab. "Mmf-! Shino..Shinobu?"

Her fingers hooked around your waist, chin planting itself on your shoulder as you hear her purr and you flushed almost immediately, especially when you were facing Giyuu who simply deadpans at the two of you.

"U-Uhm!? Sh-Shinobu, why are you..?"

"Hm?" She leans closer to give your cheek a kiss, eyes intentionally locking with Giyuu's before it catches your widened ones. She relishes on the red tint on your skin with a smile resembling that of a cunning cat. "Can't I miss you, my beloved?"

You bashfully looked away, "Well, you, you can but Giyuu is-"

"Oh!" Shinobu smirks. "You were here all along, Tomioka-san? My, I didn't notice! You're basically too plain to see, much less recognize! Now, that's just sad, hm~?"

"Mm." The guy simply hums, lips compressing in a thin line. Shinobu feels a vein popped when he basically ignored her to look at you, who's still as flustered as ever.

"Right, uhm. Me and Giyuu were just-"

Her hold tightens around your waist and you tilt your head in confusion.

"..me and Giyuu were just talking about Tanjiro and the others!"

She raises a brow, "Is that so?" Then she faces Giyuu again. "Well, why don't you go entertain the trio and give my wife and I some alone time, hm? Tomioka-san?"

You jolted, steam leaving your head. "W-Wife!? But we're not married..?"

She giggles and held you closer. "Not yet~!"

"Shinobu!"

You clear your throat, trying to keep yourself upright, quickly failing as Shinobu keeps you tightly in place. "Anyways, that's not how you should treat your close friend, right?"

Shinobu felt the urge to gag, "Friend? Tomioka? Him?" She points at the poor blank guy, who remained entirely unfazed until he realized what you said.

You nodded, "He's the friend you told me about right? You're right, he's really nice to be around!"

Giyuu blinked and tilted his head, "..you see me as your close friend, Kocho?" He was surprised that not one but two people actually became his friend.

Although, he was quick to take it back when Shinobu looked absolutely disgusted behind your back as you obliviously smiled and cheered their so called friendship, entirely missing the obvious hostility radiating from her.

"So, he's the best friend you've been telling me about, beloved?"

You nodded with a grin, "Yup! We've been hanging out these past days!" Your words worsens the brewing distaste in her stomach. If she found Giyuu to be someone she somehow tolerated, that's all gone now.

"Ah, is that so? A few days could hardly compare to our endless time together, right?" You tilt your head in confusion, of couse it was, that shouldn't be a question in the first place.

Shinobu gleefully smirked at the man's direction, "Did you hear that, Tomioka-san? You must be unaware of the years we've been together, huh? You can say you're jealous, it's fine!"

Giyuu rolls his eyes, sighing afterwards, "I don't care."

"Heyy, no need to bottle it up! You'll eventually find someone else, don't worry! You should worry about your lack of decor for now!" She giggles at his clear misery.

This goes on for about 20 minutes. A one-sided conversation full of verbal jabs from Shinobu and an occasional grunt from a tired Tomioka. You stood between them as they banter, growing increasingly confused before restless at the amount mean comments the woman had said that not even you can ignore nor wave as playful.

"See? Now, that's just-"

"Shinobu."

The woman paused, head snapping towards you as you frown at her. You sent Giyuu an apologetic smile, standing up at your place and taking Shinobu with you.

"Giyuu, can we excuse ourselves? I think we'll take lunch first. The trio might eventually come here for their training so you can spend your free time with them." The man blinks and stares as you immediately left the rehabilitation room, dragging an unusual quiet Shinobu.

"..did I do something wrong?"

-

The doctor pursed her lips, had she gone too far with her words? She inwardly sighed and cursed for allowing herself to let her emotions get loose.

In an attempt to stop your sulking state, she pulls you in the opposite direction causing for you to halt.

"[Name]-"

"Shinobu, what was that?" You questioned with furrowed brows. "I know you have tendencies to tease people but that was a bit too much."

The woman stayed silent in her place as you continued, slowly growing agitated. "You were being rude!"

"..was I?"

You scoff at her sarcastic tone, "Yes, Shinobu. I thought you would've stopped at the ninth insult but you didn't!"

You sigh before rubbing your neck,  you didn't wanna cause an argument right now. "I'm sorry for shouting but that was really an inappropriate behavior to show towards our friend."

You placed a hand on her shoulder, rubbing her tense form away. "But I know that you might just be tired, so go rest before we have this talk, okay?"

Before Shinobu could open her mouth, you spun and walked away. Not leaving any time for a counter argument. The woman hissed, brushing her bangs upward in distress.

She really took it too far, huh?

-

You placed your folded sheets aside, thoughts still lingering at your lover who you had been avoiding for two hours now. Although, it felt childish, you were truly upset at how mean she was. Was she not happy that you gained a friend after a while? You tisked, of course she is, you shouldn't think of that.

Letting out an exhale, you stood from your place and walked towards your door, wanting to take a fresh breather on the garden and stare at the koi pond as long as you possibly could.

But as you opened your door, you blinked seeing Shinobu with her arm raised, as if about to knock.

Before you could speak, she pulled you in an embrace. One, in which you almost immediately melted on. Curse muscle memory!

".. I did it, I apologized."

"Huh?" You unintelligently replied. Body as stiff as a rock, leaning most your weight on her.

Her arms around your neck tightened as the woman sighed on your neck.

"I apologized to Tomioka."

"Oh." You stayed silent before a smile slowly crept on your face, arms slithering around her waist as you tightly held onto her like she was your lifeline. She could be and she is.

Shinobu exhaled, almost sounding so lovingly, "Yes, I did." She left the hug to face you, pausing to stare at the goofy smile that stretched her lips with one of her own. "..now stop being mad at me?"

You giggled at her lowkey pleading and cute expression, it was so unusual on her and yet you loved it anyways. You pulled her by the cheeks to lock lips, instantly feeling her smile into the kiss as it slowly deepened.

She pulled away, slightly heaving. "Don't ever do that again." You tilt your head, grin widening.

"Be mad at you?"

"Make me apologize to Tomioka." Shinobu shuddered.

You snorted while Shinobu smiles, caressing your cheek in a way that instantly caused your skin to be tinted red.

"But that too." Again, she pulled you in a soft kiss, one that screamed nothing more but love and adoration you had for each other.

From the start, this is what Shinobu should've done, in order to immediately cease every occuring thoughts of you possibly straying away from her.

And it worked. She thought of nothing else but you and your warm touches as she pushed you further inside your private room and closed the door behind. Giggling at your stunned expression.

"I promised to reserve my time to you, didn't I?"

-

+BONUS SCENE!!

"Ah, is that so, Tomioka-san?" Tanjiro spoke while munching on some crunchy snacks given by the triplets and Aoi. The three of them were just about to start training but when they went inside the room, they were surprised to see Giyuu sitting alone in the middle of the space with nothing other than the table full of watered down medicine in front of him, in which he calmly stared at.

Zenitsu was immediately spooked at how eerie the guy looked when in reality he was just being lonely on his own. Meanwhile, Inosuke was instantly driven to win against him in a tea game and sat on the other side, demanding to fight but went out completely drenched in nasty medicine.

Thankfully, everything calmed down and they sat down together to eat for lunch as Giyuu retells the previous interaction that happened.

"They must have been hungry! Yeah, that must be it!"

Zenitsu sneers, looking smug as if he knew something that they don't. "You're so naive, Tanjiro. It is clear that you just got away between their romance!! Of course guys like you couldn't tell." He spat out some food from his mouth.

Giyuu and Tanjiro tilted their heads in unison and confusion. "Ehh, really?" Tanjiro said.

Inosuke scoffs, "What the fuck is romance?" He roughly shoved the food in his mouth.

Zenitsu huffs, ignoring the disgusting boar and pointing an accusing finger towards the three guys in front of him.

"Look! When two people are in a romantic relationship, they should only focus on each other! You getting in the way would only result to either getting beaten up in a pulp or rejected by the girl!"

Tanjiro pouts, "But Tomioka wasn't aiming for one of them romantically, right?" He looks at Giyuu and the man nods.

Zenitsu simply rolls his eyes, "It doesn't matter! That's why when trying to befriend girls, always check if they have a partner or not! You can't be too sure if their partner is terrifying and scary!"

He remained oblivious to the widened eyes of the other guys in front of him and confidently continued on relying his experiences.

"Especially someone pretty and nice like [Name]-san! Pretty girls always pair up with absolute maniacs, I swear! That's why you should be careful of them!"

"U-Uh, Zenitsu you should stop.."

He continued to ignore Tanjiro's pleas, only confused when it seemed like there was a shadow forming on him from behind.

"Don't deny the truth, Tanjiro! Do you know how many times I have been punched either by the gut or with words because of their awful partners!?! Shinobu-sama is pretty and all but she's absolutely frightening!"

"Oh, am I now, Zenitsu-kun~?"

A cold sweat dripped down Zenitsu's temple as a familiar chirpy voice rung. He started to tremble before slowly twisting his head and an absolute horrified expression etched on his face upon seeing Shinobu standing and looking down on him with a dark shadow on her face.

"Zenitsu!?"

Shinobu ignored the chaos that ensued when Zenitsu instantly fainted on his spot with Tanjiro immediately going towards him.

Instead, she strode towards Giyuu's direction who grew restless and uncomfortable at the way Kocho stared at him blankly.

Just before he could open his mouth, Shinobu cuts him off. "I'm sorry that I insulted you." Her tone was definitely far from apologetic.

And slowly, a polite smile reached her face as she patted Giyuu's shoulder. "You may continue being friends with my [Name], okay?"

Not bothering on hearing a response, she walked off the room, leaving the ruined peaceful atmosphere.

Giyuu blinked before a small smile slowly stretched his mouth.

[cryptidghostgirl]

Here is a fic ask? Or an idea that popped into my head! Soo I got this idea of Fem! Reader being this Nephalem thing, she made some deal with God, and God lost, she was aloud to make some corrupt angels.

More on reader, she works at the hotel, posing as a normal demon, but she doesn't sing nor dance, how odd because everyone does!..

Adam being her next target, they strike a deal that if he gets the idea of Extermination he can have one thing of whatever he wanted of course reader wanted something in return, his wings. It happened but than he soon died, and before he truly died, Adam could hear he voice, and this holy but demonic chain and parper appeared, indicating he made a deal made literally everyone freeze.

Singing this song, is basically Reader angel and demon side debating what to do! https://youtu.be/0Y9rL6xpvlk?si=i_rjScHV8Kg2qwjp

I can imagine the reactions of the others that where there. 🤩💃🕺

Her taking Adam's precious wings instead of his soul, I can imagine she probably has Lucifer, the other deadly sins and even lillith under a contract as well.

Also take your time with this! I know it a lot to take in haha! Drink water okay!!

A/N I hate Adam so this request is very fun :) Also, I just went off the vibes of the song rather than incorporating lyrics for the most part, I hope that is okay. Also I made her and Lucifer friends because I wanted to.

Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely (Adam x Reader)

Pairing: Adam x Reader

Warnings: So many. Um, gore, abuse, just generally Y/n being evil and malicious. Adam.

Word Count: 2,432

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

Y/n wasn't supposed to exist. Then again, souls trapped in Purgatory weren't supposed to challenge God, but she had done that too. It had been a simple bet, based entirely on God's belief that absolute power does not corrupt absolutely. He had lost and so, Y/n had become something else.

Not quite good, not quite bad. Neither a sinner nor a winner, a demon or an angel. She was something in the the middle, something worse. She called herself the God of Prospects, she was known as a nephalem.

A traveler between worlds, Y/n found herself the perfect fit when she had first heard of Lucifer's daughter's hotel. The two were friends of a sort and she had been quite bored of late, when he had mentioned it off hand her eyes had lit up with hunger. Lucifer had known that look, the irreversible calamity that always seemed to follow not far behind it.

"Just don't make a deal with Charlie, please." was all he had said on the matter, his voice bleeding.

Y/n had hummed a noncommittal response but took his plea to heart.

The others at the hotel were generally wary of Y/n. Even in her demon form, she cut an intimidating figure. Half a head taller than Charlie, thin muscles tracking the course of her limbs - she radiated power. Her steps were quiet and determined, the crowd never failed to part for her.

Charlie knew nothing of Y/n's truth of course, only that she was a friend of her father's. This was confirmed when Lucifer eventually visited the hotel and the pair greeted one another warmly and so, Charlie trusted her implicitly despite every sign not to. Still, she was wary. She was wary because Alastor gave Y/n a wide birth at all times and Alastor never feared anyone. When Charlie had questioned him on the matter, he always carefully changed the subject.

When Lucifer had gotten Charlie the meeting in Heaven, he had asked Y/n to go with. Neither Charlie nor Vaggie knew why save for the fact that maybe Lucifer wanted to keep an eye on his daughter. He had, after all, had a tone steeped in regret when he had told the pair he would be unable to come with himself and Y/n was his friend. It kind of made sense. Kind of.

It was there Y/n met Adam. He had pulled her aside before the chaos of the trial, making brazen advances towards her. Never having had the pleasure of meeting the first man before, she was amused to no extent by his bravado. He didn't suit Heaven at all, in her opinion, yet another example of the opinion she had proven to God all those years before. He might've been a good man once, but he was no longer. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

"So what do you say, sweet cheeks?" Adam had asked, his hands on his hips after having described everything he could 'do to her.'

Y/n had stared at him so long and hard he had almost begun to shake. Only then had she spoken, her voice like sharp gravel on bare feet, hot asphalt on hands in the dead of summer. It tore the world around it, it burned.

"Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Uh, hot demon snatch?"

Y/n had laughed at this, her teeth sharpened into points. Her head thrown back in glee, Adam had watched in confusion. When she had finally calmed her wild and uncalled for, in his opinion, joy, she had met his eyes once again, hers burning lazy fire.

"I am the God of Prospects. I will be your doom."

He hadn't known it then, but she had been right. It was strange. Adam had always liked women with a temper, hence his picks for the exorcists he worked with, but he had never liked being outshined, overpowered. It made him uncomfortable, he stayed away from women like that. Yet, something about Y/n in all her carefree composure, all her spiraling damnation, drew him to her.

"Let's make a bet."

She had held her hand out to him then, her nails sharp enough to draw blood.

"A deal?"

Adam had heard of deals in Hell, what an overlord could do through such a thing. He eyed her in suspicion.

"Did you listen to what I said? No, a bet." Y/n corrected tactfully.

"You're not an overlord, are you?"

"No."

Y/n's grin widened, unsettling him further.

"Then what is it?"

"If you win this war that is bound to happen, I will go with you. If you do not, I will take something from you."

"And how do you know it is going to be a war?"

All pretense was gone, he was nothing but a man in her scorching gaze. A shiver traveled its way down his spine, unbidden.

"I told you." she replied, as if speaking to an ignorant child, "I am the God of Prospects."

Y/n had been suspiciously absent from the battle until its very end. She appeared beside Angel Dust as Lucifer and Charlie stood before Adam, laying beaten and bloody on the ground.

"Where the hell have you been?" Angel asked and Y/n smiled, her arms crossed.

"I told you," and she had indeed told them all, the night before at the bar, "I would have made it unfair."

"Like any of us beleive you're actually that powerful." Angel scoffed and Y/n just shrugged, watching the scene play out before her in anticipation.

This was what she had been waiting for all along. She hadn't realized it until she had met Adam in person but, Y/n knew the cure to her boredom and it was not the hotel. No, the hotel was just part of the gateway, same as Adam. Really, the last time she could recall being genuinely entertained was when she had first placed that bet against God. New challenges to face, new mountains to climb, whisked past her minds eye. Plans formed and reformed, she made matter out of nothing.

"How does mercy taste you little bitch?" Lucifer said as he and Charlie turned their backs on Adam, joining the small group of people who had congregated behind them.

"No..." Adam weakly replied, slowly getting to his feet, "You don't get to end this."

Y/n could see his face now, for the first time, without his mask blocking it. She had been right all along, he had always just been a man. Mythologized, but a man none the less.

"I am fucking Adam!" he yelled, pulling himself from the crater, "I am the fucking man, and you're just some fucking clown or something! I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts. You all should be worshiping me, you ungrateful, disgusting, fucking..."

He trailed off as he caught sight of Y/n. She stood near the back, her arms crossed. Everyone looked around, trying to figure out what had him so out of it when they realized his frantic gaze was being met by none other than Y/n.

As she stepped between Vaggie and Lucifer, she began to change. Large black wings sprouted from her back, a black halo, similar to the one the exorcists wore, appeared above her head. Then there were the thorns, black vines twisting their way around her limbs. She leered over the now trembling Adam.

"Y/n..." Lucifer began, the smile long since having vanished from his face, "what did you do."

"I made a bet, that is all." she placidly replied, not bothering to look at the man.

She licked her lips in hunger, her mouth full of razors. Adam stumbled a step back.

"No!" he yelled, "It's not over! The war is not over! I... I..."

"This is your fate now."

The group watched in horror as Y/n grew taller, her limbs and torso stretching out thin and monstrous. She looked emaciated, she looked like death.

"NO, it's not!"

"I choose your fate now or did you forget about your side of the bargain? I will get what I am owed."

With a flick of her finger, Adam was raised into the air by glowing black, thorny vines. He struggled against the bonds as she turned his back towards her. Even now, he couldn't help but find something compelling in her, something that drew him to her.

"What are you doing? What are yo-"

He cut himself off in a terrible, protracted scream. The sound of tearing flesh and cracking bone was nauseating as Y/n slowly ripped the wings from his back. She let him fall, whimpering and bloodied, to the ground. Turning the wings over before her eyes, she examined them carefully as she shrunk back to her normal size and body shape.

"Beautiful but... I already have a pair." she mused before throwing them to the side.

"What are you?" Vaggie asked, breathless, as Y/n turned back to the group.

Her hands were stained golden in blood as were her teeth. She grinned.

"I am the God of Prospects. I am corrupted by absolute power."

"Jesus, Y/n." Lucifer sighed, a hand to his head, "You're scaring them."

"Good."

"You knew?" Charlie asked her father in shock and he nodded softly.

"But I've never..."

"Seen me like this before." Y/n finished the thought for her friend, "In my true form. It is a lot to digest, I try to be kind."

"You try to be kind?" Husk repeated.

"Oh I like her." Cherri smiled brightly and Y/n tilted her head to the side in thanks.

It was now, as Lute pulled herself from the wreckage and Adam took his last stuttering breaths that she screamed, rushing to her master's side.

"Sir? Sir?!" she asked, flipping him over with her good arm.

Y/n turned to the scene, smiling. If this was the sort of thing her newfound passion would bring her, life was certainly about to become much more enjoyable.

"Stay with me, sir." Lute begged the dying man.

The last thing he did was smile up at her before falling dead. Charlie stepped forward with Vaggie not far behind her, her eyes glowing red with power and matching those of her father as he followed in her steps.

"Adam!" Lute yelled.

"It's over." Charlie announced, and the exorcist looked up.

"Take your little friends and go home." Lucifer added forcefully, "Please."

Lute looked between them for a moment before obeying, calling the retreat. The exorcists rose into the air, disappearing back through the portal. but not before she had grabbed Adam's fallen halo.

Charlie now turned to Y/n, the same fire burning in her eyes.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

Y/n shrugged noncommitally.

"I was bored, you all are interesting."

Charlie took a deep breath.

"What are you?"

"I am the God of Prospects."

"She is a nephalem. Well, sort of." Lucifer corrected and Y/n pouted.

"A nephalem?" Vaggie asked.

"Neither an angel nor a demon."

"How... shouldn't you be in purgatory?" Angel asked, taking a step forward.

"Does she look like she should be in purgatory?" Husk countered.

"I was there for a while."

"Really? What happened?" Cherri asked in excitment.

Y/n turned to her.

"I made a bet with God."

"And she won. Hooray, now, who is up for pancakes?"

After some conversation, it was determined that Y/n would be allowed to continue her stay at the hotel as long as she promised to protect it should the battle return. Y/n knew it would and told everyone as much, she agreed to the terms. Then the subject at hand had turned to lamentation. For the hotel, for their friends - the minute Charlie had brought up Alastor and his supposed death, Y/n had stopped her.

Holding a hand out to the demon princess, Y/n closed her eyes.

"He's injured, but alive." she announced after a moment, "I will go get him."

Before anyone had the chance to ask her how she knew or what she meant, Y/n had taken off into the sky on her wings of night.

The radio tower was in pieces, and Alastor sulked within. He looked up at the sound of her entry, his eyes wide and wild.

"Took a beating there, huh." Y/n mused playfully and Alastor scoffed, "I have a new job for you."

"What." he spat back, "Something else to get me almost killed?"

"Maybe." Y/n shrugged, "Either way, you know you can't refuse."

Vines, the same ones that had held Adam, appeared on Alastor, wrapping their way around him, bringing him to his knees. He grunted softly as they hit the ground. He knew she was right. He had been vain and a fool, he had been cocky. He had made a bet, and now had to lay in the grave she dug for him.

"What is that job?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"You're going to help me get a meeting with God."

Y/n hopped up onto a mostly intact table, taking a seat upon it. Alastor watched her, speechless.

"Yeah, he's sorta been, you know, avoiding my calls? Between you and me, I think he's pissy he lost our bet."

"Why do you want a meeting with him? Don't you already have everything?"

"Almost everything. I want to play a game."

"With God."

"With God."

"What for?"

Y/n hummed in thought, kicking her legs slightly.

"I want to be corrupted absolutely."

Alastor could read between the lines, he had known her long enough. His eyes widened with surprise. Y/n wanted power, to replace the man upstairs. She wanted to be God, not just a nephalem. She was always crossing boundaries, doing things she wasn't supposed to do, being things she wasn't supposed to be. Who was to say she couldn't do this too? Still, the fear and uncertainty ate away at him. He had no choice but to bend to her will but that didn't mean he had to have complete faith.

Y/n stood again in response to Alastor's doubtful look, her vines dragging him to his feet. She stared him dead in the eyes, her hands on her hips.

"Remember, foolish man, if not for my kindness you too would be gone. Don't try anything, just keep holding up that lovely facade of yours at the Hotel. I will alert you to when your skills are needed."

[starlazergazer]

Nervous

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Request: Anakin is pining over the reader who is a Jedi but is kind of oblivious and shy. Starts off with noticing his gaze from across a room and what the reader thinks are innocent touches but then escalates to thick tension that the reader chooses to ignore due to the code. Eventually Anakin can’t take it anymore and does something about it.

Warnings: Nothing just so much sweet fluff it’ll give you a tooth ache

Word Count: 5.5K

A/N: Actually wrote this one twice lol trying to decide how to do it and went with an alternating reader and Anakin point of view structure as well as changing a few things about the original request that I hope work out so as always let me know what you think!

“You’re staring” a whispered voice suddenly popping up on his right snapped Anakin out of his stupor, his spoon dropping loudly into his bowl in surprise as he jumped slightly, eyes snapping down to his padawan wearing an expression that was much too amused for his liking.

“I’m eating alone snips” he grunts, picking back up his spoon and making a point to keep his eyes down “I have to look somewhere”

“Sure sure” she nods seriously from beside him, moving her head closer to his shoulder and looking out over the room just as he had “well now that I’m here should we both stare at Y/N?”

At the mention of your name he jumped again, moving immediately to try and quiet Ahsoka and only achieving in knocking his bowl to the ground, the spoon reverberating loudly against the bowl as they strike the ground, soup spraying up and splashing Anakin and Ahsoka’s feet, effectively drawing the attention of the entire room.

On instinct Anakin’s gaze came up and sought out yours immediately, catching a small amused smile on your lips, gaze snapping back down to his feet as he felt one of his own grow on his lips in response, mentally scolding both himself and Ahsoka as he felt the tips of his ears go red.

“There, are you happy now?” he asked Ahsoka, sending a glare in the young padawans direction, getting the girls best attempt at holding in her laughter in response. “Yeah that tracks” he sighed, bending down to pick up his now empty bowl. Rushing from the room before he could embarrass himself in front of you any further.

-

You weren’t entirely sure why you were nervous.

It was a simple, kind gesture, he’d either accept it or he wouldn’t and that was it. You were a general in the republic’s army, you had been in several active war zones left with nothing but your saber to protect you, you could give Anakin Skywalker a ration bar.

In truth this wasn’t something you would normally have ever considered to do. Sure you’d talked to Anakin a few times in passing, even had one mission together that went fine, but you certainly wouldn’t consider yourself friends, colleagues at best to be honest.

But all throughout lunch you could’ve sworn you felt his eyes on you, could swear through the corners of your own that he was looking right at you throughout the meal, and though you knew you were probably being delusional you had to admit it stuck with you.

Between that and the way his eyes so naturally found yours right after the bowl dropped there was some stupid part of you that felt like it was your fault it all happened, and thus felt the need to make it up to him in return.

But as you entered the briefing room, catching Anakin sitting in one of the chairs encircling the holoprojector alone, his soft green eyes scanning the room around him, the way his long slightly curly hair fell so beautifully just above his shoulders, the soft smile that played on his lips as he listened to the conversations around him, you remembered just why you were nervous in the first place. Because being the object of Anakin’s attention for any amount of time always had your heart racing.

Before you could talk yourself out of it you strode up to Anakin’s chair and thrust the bar out in front of his vision, watching the man recoil ever so slightly at the surprise of its appearance, his gaze following your arm up to your face, the corners of his lips perking up into a slight smile even as his eyebrows scrunched in confusion, wordlessly asking you a question.

“I figured since half of your lunch ended up on your shoes, you’d be hungry” you shrugged, feeling your face heat up as he slowly broke out into a wide smile, taking the bar eagerly from your hand, his fingers brushing up against yours ever so slightly as he did so.

“You saw that huh?” You weren’t expecting the question, had already been ready to walk over across the room and take a random seat on the opposite side reliving every embarrassing moment of this short conversation instead of paying attention. Instead, you were stuck awkwardly standing above him, suddenly completely unsure of what you should do with your now empty hands.

“It was pretty hard to miss” you admitted with a small chuckle, delighted to see his expression mirror your as you did it, using this confidence to keep speaking “the good news is there are certainly worse things to be stuck smelling like for the rest of the day”

He laughed at that and you liked the way he laughed, the way his whole body seemed to curl around the sound, the way he almost leaned into you as he did it, your mind already going into overdrive as you worried if you were standing too close to him.

“Oh here this seats empty” another thing to catch you off guard as Anakin gestured vaguely to the seat next to him.

With no real reason to object, and even a small part of you the relished the simple gesture, you nodded sitting down next to him, not missing the way he shifted his weight to lean closer to you as you did so, in fact focusing way too much on that fact. Probably just so that he could hear you better in the loud room.

“Here” you heard him say from beside you, breaking off a portion of the ration bar you had just given him and holding it up to you, prompting you to raise an eyebrow in response.

“I got that for you” you stammered, not taking the piece from his fingers “you know after you embarrassingly spilled your lunch all over your shoes in front of the entire cafeteria”

He shook his head at that, unable to pull a small smile from his lips as he did so, “Well I was trying to be nice but if you’re just going to bully me, I’ll rethink that course of action” and with that he quickly popped the piece he was offering to you into his mouth.

You giggled back at him at that, your shoulder brushing up against his as you did so, immediately pulling back from him, scolding yourself for invading his personal space for a second time in the span of five minutes. It was going to be a tough meeting.

-

Anakin knew he should probably leave you alone after that.

After pulling you in to sit with him through the incredibly boring tactical meeting and embarrassing himself in front of you at lunch you probably felt like you had seen enough of him for the week at least.

But fate, it would seem, had another plan as he walked into the jedi library and saw you standing in front of one of the shelves.

Still he could’ve gone to another part of the library, he really only needed to look up one thing, he’d be in and out in a few minutes flat. But then you were on your toes, your arm stretched far above your head, the other steadying yourself on a lower shelf, trying desperately to reach a book on the top shelf that fell just inches from your hand. And he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.

He was already approaching you before he could stop himself, already ready to reach up and effortlessly pluck the book you wanted from the shelf, but then he saw you bend your knees slightly, getting ready to jump for it.

And that was why his hand immediately went to your waist, to stop you and pull you back slightly, to stop the entire top shelf from falling on top of you as you tried to pull the desired book down. Least that was what he told himself. Why he felt the need to pull you deeper into his chest as he did so, well he had less of an excuse for that.

He was ready to crack some sort of joke about your height, about the catastrophe of an avalanche of books you were about to cause, but then you spun around to face him, big eyes gazing up at him through your lashes, lips slightly parted in surprise, and he felt the words die in his throat, completely forgetting whatever he was going to say in an instant.

“I could’ve gotten it” you objected halfheartedly with a small laugh, and much to his pleasre he could see a new pink hue dusting your cheeks.

“Well I could always just put it back” He shrugged as he leaned in close to you again, reaching over your head to put the book back, telling himself it was just committing to the bit

Then your hands were on his chest and Anakin felt his breath faulter, his movements halted in an instant as you pushed him back from the shelf softly, a wide grin on his face mirroring yours as you did so, the two of you sharing a soft chuckle before he handed you the book, a little sad it was too large to have his hands brush against yours as he did with the ration bar, missing the soft tingle that reverberated through him from the simple contact.

You thanked him with a soft smile, turning to go back to your seat at the desks and Anakin was already talking himself into choosing a desk across the library from you. Telling himself he owed you some respite from him today, even if he had already ruined his last attempt at that as soon as he entered the library.

Then you were talking to him, his brain taking a brief moment to pull himself to attention at your words. “here this seats empty”

He’d never been so happy to hear his own words repeated back at him.

With a smile and a nod he followed you back to the table, giving you a brief moment to pull some of your notes and books towards you own seat and out of his way before sitting down, absolutely relishing the fact that you were making room for him to sit next to you.

“What’re you researching?” he asked you, nodding to the screen in front of you, eager to keep the conversation going.

“Devaron” you answered simply, Anakin watching the way your eyes flicked back between him and the screen as you talked, focusing more on the way your lips moved than the words they said, getting only half sentences if he were honest as you explained your plan to infiltrate a separatist encampment to steal back a holocron.

He let his posture relax more the more you talked, his weight shifting to lean more towards you without even thinking about it, his knees with a mind of their own going to rest softly against yours as he leaned in to look at your screen as you explained, not missing the way you immediately pulled your knee back at the contact, scootching ever so slightly away from him as he leaned in, trying desperately to not let your actions get to him.

Instead he pushed it a little further.

-

You didn’t even have the chance to think about moving before he was just there, his head floating mere inches above your shoulder, ends of his long hair tickling your ear softly as he peered at the text displayed before you.

“Oh here” You tried to ignore the way the words came out as a squeak, the flush of red on your cheeks at the feeling of his chest just barely skimming your back as you started to lean away, letting him get a better look at the screen before his hand shot out to your shoulder to stop you, pulling you back to your original position.

“No it’s okay you’re fine” he assured you softly, eyes never leaving the screen, hand never leaving your shoulder.

Immediately your brain was in overdrive, focusing on your breathing too much trying to make sure it wasn’t too loud, on the hand that rested on your shoulder and the tingle it sent through the area as his thumb brushed softly up and down, on the scent of his cologne that completely encapsulated you in this moment.

“Would you quit fidgeting it’s hard to read with so much movement coming out of the corner of my eye” he teased you breaking you from your thoughts.

“Well if you’d just let me move you can have the screen all to yourself” you defended, trying again to lean away from him only to have his hand hold you effectively in place.

“you’re not giving me your seat it’s fine we can share just sit still for two seconds” he protested, never once moving from the spot just above your shoulder.

And you tried, oh how you had tried so hard to be still, but he was right there, one of the most gorgeous beings you’d even seen mere inches from your face, the skin beneath his touch burned on your shoulder, his slightly musty scent seemed to completely encapsulate you, and you found it hard to focus on anything but Anakin Skywalker.

Then too quickly he was pulling back, shifting back around to sit down in his seat, a concentrated look on his face as he bent over some of the books you had pulled.

And all you could think about was that that had to have been done on purpose. The way his knee rested against yours when you sat side by side, or his shoulder bumped yours when you walked, you could explain all of that, even the way he seemed to pull you into him as he grabbed the book from over your head, or the way his eyes always seemed to be planted on you when you turned to look at him. Could chalk any of it up to wishful thinking, to innocent touches, to signs of friendship. But what had just happened?

You could read his screen from your position now without straining, without even shifting your weight towards him, there was no reason to get that close, not unless he wanted to.

But the back of your mind was screaming at you, protesting that you were being ridiculous, that there was the jedi code to think of, that Anakin was too good a jedi to even think of breaking it just to form an attachment to someone.

“Why don’t Ahoska and I come with you” His words snapped you back to reality, your cheeks heating up as you realized you weren’t entirely sure how long he had been speaking, how long you had been blatantly staring at him.

“Oh-are you sure?” you asked him in surprise.

“Yeah” he shrugged nonchalantly, looking up from the book before him with a soft smile “Ahoska could use the practice, and it sounds like you could use the backup”

“That would be great actually” you said honestly, gaze flickering back to the map before you, already forming a plan in your mind as you spoke “having a full team there in case things go wrong would be perfect”

“Great” Anakin grinned back at you, a hand coming down to clap your knee softly as he stood, Anakin pulling his hand back from you sooner than you would have liked “We’ll meet you at the loading dock tomorrow morning”

“Sounds good” you smiled back at him as he turned to leave, watching him walk back through the doors, not even thinking to question the fact that he never accomplished whatever he had come to the library to do.

-

To say that Anakin was happy to see the seat next to you on board was empty was an understatement, he was absolutely ecstatic to the point that not even Ahsoka’s teasing smirk sent is way from across the space could ruin it.

Bounding up to you happily he planted himself in the chair next to you, knocking into your side playfully as he did so, “You ready to go steal a holocron?”

You seemed almost surprised to see him, as if you hadn’t heard him come aboard and walk over to you, but still you painted on a smile, though one that didn’t quite reach your eyes, Anakin’s brain immediately switching over to concern. “what’s wrong?”

You scrunched your brows back at that, immediately pulling away from him though only slightly, gaze going to your feet “what? Nothing?”

He just shook his head at that, his eyes immediately going to your hands and the way your fingers absentmindedly picked at the skin around your nails as you avoided his gaze. Without even thinking his hand shot out, encapsulating one of your in his, his fingers effortlessly intertwining themselves in yours, Anakin wanting to admire just how well your hand fit within his but too preoccupied In trying to figure out what was wrong.

His touch pulled your attention back to him, your gaze bouncing back and forth between his eyes, clearly trying to decide if you should say something.

“It’s alright you can talk to me” he all but whispered, nodding encouragingly, all but begging you to let him in.

“It’s dumb” you dismissed quickly, eyes casting back around the ship but your grip on his hand tightened ever so slightly, Anakin unable to do anything but smile slightly at the gesture, using his thumb to rub lazy circles on the back of your hand.

You gaze was drawn down to your hands in response and Anakin felt his movement hiccup, a brief pause as he worried for a second that was he was doing was wrong, that he was making you uncomfortable, but then he saw the edges of your lips turn up almost imperceptibly and he felt his heart swell in his chest, taking a deep breath and giving your hand a small squeeze letting you know he was here.

“It’s just-“ you stuttered and stopped, finally looking back up at him “Is it dumb that I’m more nervous now with people going than I was when I was going alone”

And though Anakin could never think anything you thought was dumb he couldn’t help but chuckle softly at that, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion at your words “what? Why?”

“Because it’s like” you sighed and he felt your grip go light in his, felt you start to pull away from him, but this time he wouldn’t let you, keeping his grip tight he pulled you softly into him, your shoulder coming to rest calmly against his, your grip thankfully returning in response as a soft chuckle escaped your lips, a sound Anakin grasped onto eagerly. “It’s like now I’m responsible for three more people ya know?” you asked hesitantly, gaze going out to spy on Ahsoka and Rex talking calmly across the room “before it was just me but now if something goes wrong…I just don’t want any of you to get hurt because of me”

And Anakin couldn’t help but grin at that, not wasting the opportunity to lean over and hide his smile in your hair, suppressing his urge to press a kiss to the crown of your head as he did so, “its not dumb, it’s sweet”

You pulled back at his words, eyes going suspiciously to his face “you’re laughing at me”

And with those words he couldn’t help but chuckle, even as he tried to protest “no I’m not-“

“You are” and even your voice started to bounce as you held in your own giggles, Anakin’s cheeks aching ever so slightly as he chuckled back in response.

“No its not-“

But you cut him off again, pushing off of him to stand up but he kept his grip firm, effortlessly pulling you back down into your seat, sure that you had let him do it anyways. “hold on hold on let me explain” he tried to calm himself down, unable to think of anything at first but at how close you now sat next to him, your thigh pressed firmly against his as you all but sat on top of him.

“Look Ahsoka, Rex and I have been on hundreds of missions before and we’ve always made it back” you looked up at him doubtingly and Anakin had to fight the urge to melt into your gaze “we’ve had hundreds of missions go wrong on us, very wrong, and we’ve always been able to handle it. This one won’t be any different”

Your gaze casted back out to Ahsoka and Rex a soft shake in your head as you spoke again, your voice small and hesitant “are you sure”

And finally, Anakin let go of your hand, using his now free arm to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into a soft side hug before he whispered “yeah I’m sure”

-

“As far as the plan?” Ahsoka asked you from the copilots seat, looking up at you from where you stood behind Rex’s chair, watching the separatist encampment come into view.

“There’s three entrances” you explained, barely able to tear your eyes away from the window “main one then two others on each side that are much smaller used mostly for transporting supplies. I’ll take the east one, you and Anakin take the west, Rex stays back here with the ship ready to shoot anyone or take off quickly depending on how things go”

You cast your eyes to look back at Ahsoka who was nodding her head softly as she thought then up to Anakin just behind her chair only to see he was already looking down at you, shaking his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re not going alone” he objected quickly “you and Ahsoka take the west I’ll take the east”

You physically recoiled at that, brows scrunching up back at him in confusion, not entirely sure where this was coming from all of a sudden “this is my mission, I was going to go alone anyways”

“And now we’re here” he shot back, making it a point to avoid your gaze as he watched Rex’s landing “so you didn’t have to be alone”

“Hold on I was fine with going alone you were the one-“

Ahsoka interrupted you as you started to get louder, pointing an accusatory finger in Anakin’s direction “I’ll take the west you two go together on the east”

“no” Yours and Anakin’s answer came quickly and in perfect unison, Ahsoka rolling her eyes in response as she crossed her arms over her chest, a posture that now perfectly mirrored both your’s and Anakin’s.

“Look based on the encampments shape the west side will be the less populated one so it makes sense that I take it alone and the two of you take the more difficult one” she tried to explain.

“If that’s the case than I-“ you were ramping up for your argument but watched as Anakin’s shoulders slumped slightly in response, not letting you get out another word before he was conceding with a simple ‘fine’.

As if you had never said anything you watched as Ahsoka grinned triumphantly up at her master, a gesture that just seemed to annoy him further though you still caught a small proud smile snaking its way to his features.

“Hold on-“ you tried to object again but Anakin was already exiting the cockpit, giving your shoulder a soft tap and squeeze as he did, leaving you frozen in space as you watched him go.

“What on earth just happened?” you asked the room earning a small giggle from Ahsoka in response “this was my mission did he really just come in and steamroll his way into making all the plans”

You watched Ahsoka and Rex share a look from their seats before answering in perfect unison “you get used to it”

You groaned softly at their response but couldn’t help but laugh softly at the situation, running a tired hand over your face “I just don’t get why he wouldn’t just let me go on my own, does he not trust me?”

“No he trusts you” Ahsoka tried to assure you quickly but you could already feel yourself spiraling.

“I mean I told him that I was nervous before we took off what if he thinks because of that I’m not capable”

“He speaks very highly of your abilities as a jedi” Ahsoka shook her head in response, stealing a glance at Rex as she did so “I know for a fact that he trusts you with his life”

At that you had to stop, your mind reeling for a second at the thought that Anakin could have spoke so highly about you to Ahsoka before, it wasn’t like he’d ever really been around you enough to know that. “I don’t-“

“Look” Ahsoka sighed with a slight chuckle, spinning around in her chair to face you “he likes you, he just wants to make sure you’re safe”

“But you’re his padawan” you pointed out in confusion “he likes you too and you get to go off on your own”

At this Ahsoka smirked slightly, turning back around to face the window “yeah but it’s different with me”

This only had you more confused “how is it-“

Before you could ask, however, Rex interrupted you “alright we’re here” in surprise you turned your gaze to the window to see that you had in fact landed, you too focused on your talk with Ahsoka and fight with Anakin to even register that fact. “Now you two get going let’s get out of here as quickly as possible”

-

You were uncomfortably aware of every part of his body that was touching yours, the way you could feel his chest rise and fall against yours with every breath, the way you really had no choice but to look at him.

“Come on I know you’re mad at me” his voice came out in a whisper, prompting you to turn your head up tentatively to look at him through your lashes only to see him already looking down at you, his hands pressed against the wall above your head trying to give you as much space as possible. “I’m sorry I ended up picking the worst spot to hide I didn’t know-“

You cut him off before he could go on any longer rambling “It’s not that”

He scrunched his eyebrows at you “then what is it?”

You shook your head slightly at his expression, casting your gaze back down, desperately wishing you were anywhere but here to have this conversation. Instead of just moving past it like you had hoped he would, however, Anakin stayed silent, his gaze firmly locked down on you, practically pulling the answer out of you.

“It’s this whole mission” You sighed, not missing the way Anakin seemed to only get more confused.

“This was my mission, a simple break in and grab the holocron” you tried to explain “then you ask to join with Ahsoka and I agree and all of a sudden you’re the one making the plans pushing me out of my own mission by delegating me to a less important part, telling me I need to have a partner and can’t go out on my own”

“that’s not-“ You cut him off again before he could deny it.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s my mission. That means you sit down and listen to my plans you don’t get to come in and tell me what I’m going to do and not do on my mission that’s not how this works” You paused for a quick breath, finally chancing a look back up at Anakin “You can’t demote me, not here not now”

His eyes bounced quickly back and forth between yours, concern evident on his face as he formulated his response, taking a moment before speaking “I’m just trying to protect you”

“I don’t need your protection” you countered with a small huff “I’m a fully trained Jedi knight I can handle myself, but I know you’ve regularly got Ahsoka doing more dangerous stuff than this so what about protecting her?”

“It’s different with her”

And there was that explanation again, that same cop out excuse that didn’t tell you anything. You could hope, tell yourself that you knew what it meant, but you didn’t, you needed to hear him say it.

“Why is It different?”

Anakin didn’t say anything to that, deep breaths echoing through his chest to your own as they rose and fell against one another, his eyes bouncing back and forth between your own, quick trips down to your lips that you swore were only in your head. But at that point every time you had overthought your and Anakin’s relationship was whirling around in your head. Every time you looked up to see him already staring at you, every touch he seemed to go out of his way to make, every excuse he’s made to hang out with you or be close. It couldn’t be all in your head could it?

“Are you okay?” The question seemed to come out of nowhere, surprising you slightly, your head backing up to softly bump the wall behind you.

Because in truth you weren’t, you could feel your heart crawling up into your throat, could feel every point of contact between the two of you now like electricity dancing over your skin, could feel the burning desire to just close the small gap between the two of you. But the code, always the code.

“I’m fine” You brushed him off, turning your gaze back to the ground, anywhere but his.

“Hey” He called out to you softly, fingers dropping from over your head down to your chin, pulling your gaze back up to his softly, his fingers dropping down to the side of your neck quickly, pressing softly into the skin. “Your heart is racing”

You could only feel it get faster after that comment, could feel the way your cheeks got hotter from beneath his worried gaze, brushing his fingers off you quickly “I’m fine”

“Is it the tight space?” He was whispering quickly now, already inching his head towards the grate trying to peak out.

“No I’m-“ you tried to object but he was already running off on his own tangent.

“If you need to get out of here we can try and sneak out” he was inching more towards the grate by the second, hands coming off the wall to try and pry it off.

You couldn’t let him leave yet, it was too early the two of you were bound to be caught, so you reached out, grabbing his face in both of your hands and pulling it down to meet your gaze “Anakin it’s not the tight space” you watched his brows bunch up in confusion again, letting the rest of your sentence spill out of you before you could think better of it “it’s you, it’s the way we’re pressed up against one another, the way you keep looking at me like that. It’s you, you make me nervous”

You could practically see his brain stutter, all his features relaxing for a moment as he processed what you said, the corners of his lips ticking up slightly as he did so “I make you nervous?”

“Yes” you breathed out, the panic within you forcing you to tack on more to the sentence “of course you do,  you have a reputation of regularly jumping out of moving speeders and are actively trying to sneak out of our hiding spot before it’s time”

A smirk grew on his face at your words as he dipped his head closer to yours down at your eyes level, so close your noses were nearly touching, his hands planted firmly on either side of your head against the wall “but that’s not in the way that you meant it. Right?”

You watched the way his tongue darted out from between his lips, wetting his bottom one quickly, eyes snapping up to meet his again with a blush staining your cheeks a deep enough color you were sure he could see it even in the dim lighting. “Why is it different with Ahsoka?” You whispered the question so softly you weren’t entirely sure he could hear it.

But god help you he chuckled at it, his eyes twinkling softly as he inched forward even closer, “because I’m not in love with Ahsoka”

[edgarapoecolouredglasses]

Imagine a zombie apocalypse where all Wizarding World characters start with the same amount of food, shelter and weapons.

- No magic

Who would survive the longest?

In my humble opinion,

Naturally, Lucius Malfoy, Phineas Nigellus Black, Gilderoy Lockhart, etc would be dead within a day. 

Sorrows, sorrows prayers

Sirius Black would probably go insane. There is an equal chance of him dying and living.

Snape would last a while because he’d know which berries and fungi are safe to eat and at least he wouldn’t starve to death. I don’t see what his weakness would be. (Stamina?)

Harry would probably die saving someone, let’s be honest. Or it’d be a Carl Grimes situation where he’d try to help someone out of the goodness of his heart and end up bit.

But now that I think of it, he would probably be immune to the virus beca he’s the chosen one.

Hermione would not believe that zombies are as dangerous as they say and wouldn’t listen to anyone before seeing it for herself, eventually leading to her ending up dead, or worse expelled.

I think Tom Riddle/Voldemort would have a solid chance because he would make a wonderful leader of a group but doesn’t mind throwing others under the bus to survive.

As seen in the movies Narcissa Malfoy knows exactly when to change sides and has great self preservation skills. And she does it all for her baby which leads me to Draco.

Draco would survive for a while, not because he is competent enough to survive, but because he’s in the group with mommy and uncle Voldy.

Speaking of Tom/Voldemort throwing people under the bus, Bellatrix would be the first under said bus, in a poorly thought out and futile attempt to prove herself to Voldymort.

Then there’s this guy,

And he really reminded me of this guy(iykyk),

Maybe Sebastian is a bit less psychopathic and deranged, but he’s getting there, and I think that seeing his freshly kedavra’d uncle get up and eat his sister might do the trick.

I’ll say he’d probably last years.

Speaking of Hogwarts Legacy characters Professor Garlick as well as Ominis Gaunt are immune. Same goes for Luna Lovegood and Newt Scamander

Why?

Because I love them and because I said so. They aren’t dying

Alright I’ve been yapping for way too long, let me know what you think about this concept.

[hehetmongi]

fever pitch - (kang yeosang/reader)

summary: you're on your period; yeosang comes home early to help you out. also cross posted to ao3

pairing: kang yeosang x reader

tags: alternate universe - modern setting, established relationship, domestic fluff, fluff and smut, menstrual sex, vaginal fingering, shower sex, hurt/comfort, reader uses she/her pronouns, 18+ mdni

word count: 4.1k

note: cis woman reader. centers heavily on menstruation and there's a bit of unsanitary-ness (reader bleeds on the sheets accidentally) so please don't read if it makes you uncomfortable!

due to tumblr's formatting, yeosang's texts are in bold and reader's texts are italicized. if this is difficult for you to read, i highly encourage checking out the ao3 link instead!

You wake to an ache between your legs, and not in a fun way. 

You groan as you sit up, the sensations coming in faster and sharper than you anticipate. Your head pounds, your feet feel numb, but the worst of it is your abdomen. The cramping, the exhaustion, the vague feeling like you’ve wet yourself, or something — yeah, you’ve been through this enough times to know this is your period hitting you like a truck. 

You can already tell it’ll be a painful one. You’re not exactly regular, and when your period does come in, you’re usually out of it for a few days due to the pain. It’s always been this way, and you can manage fine on your own, but you have to admit that you’d really like Yeosang’s company.  

With a glance at the alarm clock — reading 8:42am, from where you can see it over Yeosang’s empty side of the bed — you trudge out of Yeosang’s room. You brace an arm against the wall as you make your way to the bathroom, narrowly dodging Wooyoung’s hip-check as he passes you in the hallway. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” 

You glare daggers at him. When he catches your eyes, he staggers a few exaggerated steps back. 

“Geez, you look pissed. ” 

You ignore him, deciding he’s not even worth the energy. It takes considerable effort to clean yourself up and into a fresh new pad, but thankfully you didn’t get any blood on your shorts. You take a quick painkiller before heading straight back to bed. You have the day off, but it’s not as though you’re going to spend it relaxing. 

You clutch a plushie — a Doberman toy Yeosang gifted you on your third date — toward your abdomen. It’s nice to have something to grasp onto and that reminds you of him, you think, as you roll over to the nightstand by Yeosang’s side of the bed. You grab your phone, quickly glancing at the notifications you haven’t read. You gloss over the emails (mostly ads and a couple of work emails you won’t actually open until you’re on the clock) and smile at your iMessages. 

MESSAGES - 45m 

yeosang <3 

Miss you so much 🥺

MESSAGES - 2h 

yeosang <3

Let me know when you wake up! 

MESSAGES - 2h 

yeosang <3

Good morning 🥰

Your heart swells with warmth. Your relationship with Yeosang is still somewhat new, but every day he reminds you that this is real, and you are incredibly lucky to have someone as kind and loving as him as a partner. So far, your lives seem to slot together perfectly — cute dates, spending the night at each other's apartments, soft touches and meaningful conversations — he was everything you dreamed of, and more. It almost seems too good to be true. 

(Admittedly, part of you is waiting for the ball to drop. A relationship this happy has to change eventually. And since Yeosang is such a perfect partner, you suspect you’ll probably be the cause.) 

You roll onto your back, tapping a quick message in response. You don’t want him to get too worried, but you figure you should say something so he knows you won’t be responding to any future messages right away. 

good morning! 💛💖 sorry i’m late baby!

just got my period :( i feel gross and really tired

You blush a little at your use of a pet name. You know he likes it, but you’re still not sure if it sounds right. You want him to feel as endeared as you do when he uses pet names for you. 

His reply comes less than a minute later. 

There you are!! Good morning, my dear 🥰

No worries. Please take it easy today. I’ll be thinking of you~ 

Something in your stomach flips, but you’re not sure if it’s from your period or if that’s the effect Yeosang has on you. You settle on it being a little bit of both as you start to type your reply. 

i love you 🫶

wish you were here!

Ah, do you want me to come home early and take care of you? 

I’d be happy to do that ^_^ 

nono i’ll be fine!! promise!!

please don’t worry about me i swear i’m fine :’)

I’ll come home in a heartbeat. Just say the word 

You clutch your plushie close to your chest. Having Yeosang take care of you would be a really lovely way to spend the day. Much better than staying holed up in Yeosang’s room, clutching your stomach as you hear Wooyoung fumbling around in the kitchen, at least. But you know Yeosang is working hard, and you really don’t want to take him from that. 

I have to go :( send me updates? I want to hear how your day is going

You can let Wooyoung know if you need help too. He’s good with this type of thing. 

You scrunch your nose. While you like Wooyoung fine, and he’s pretty good at giving you and Yeosang privacy when you need it, you’re not exactly comfortable asking him for help with something like cramps. It feels… personal, and incredibly burdensome. And if you’re already hesitating to ask Yeosang for that kind of help, what business do you have asking his roommate? 

Just then, a knock sounds at the door. It opens a crack before you hear Wooyoung call your name aloud, and you grunt in response. Wooyoung must take it as an affirmative, because he opens it wide. 

“Yeosang said you’re not feeling well,” he announces, glancing down at his phone, “and that I should keep an eye on you until he’s home.”

You frown. “Um, thank you, but I don’t really need help.” 

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow. 

You try to step out of bed, but a knife twists in your gut and pins and needles twist all along your legs. The sensation makes you wince, sucking in a large gulp of air. 

Wooyoung rushes to your side, taking your arm to steady you. When he hears your stuttering breath, he shakes his head. “Don’t… do that. Just stay in bed. I’ll cook you something.” 

You blanch. “You really don’t have—”

“Shut up,” he says, eyes softening when he meets your gaze. You wonder what you must look like, to him. “Er… just, sit and relax for a sec. I insist.” 

You really do try to relax, once he leaves. You scroll through social media as Wooyoung whips up something simple. You shoot Yeosang a quick Wooyoung’s making me breakfast! ❣️ as you wait, to which you receive a bunch of silly looking stickers in return. 

“It’s not contagious, is it?” Wooyoung asks a few moments later, carrying a delicious-smelling tray toward your bed. 

You realize, then, that Yeosang must have been pretty discreet about what was ailing you in his conversation with Wooyoung. The thought of period cramps being contagious makes you suck in a giggle. 

“I really hope not,” you scoff, and when Wooyoung furrows his brow, you explain, “it’s just cramps. I get them really bad.” 

Wooyoung’s eyes widen a little. He sets the tray down next to you, and you take it in earnest. It’s a simple meal, just soup and rice and eggs, but somehow it smells amazing. “They’re bad enough that you can’t walk ?” 

“It’s like that for a lot of people,” you explain. 

Wooyoung only hums, taking a seat in Yeosang’s desk chair and swiveling it around and around. Apparently he's here to stay. 

You take a few bites of your meal, letting your mind wander a little. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve spent the night at Yeosang’s place, but you still feel kind of awkward here when it’s just you and Wooyoung. You know they’ve known each other for years — much longer than you’ve known Yeosang — and the thought intimidates you. How many of Yeosang’s partners has Wooyoung known? How many crushes and hookups? Does Yeosang tell Wooyoung things about your relationship that you’re not privy to? 

“He’s blowing up my phone, you know,” Wooyoung says suddenly. He turns his phone screen around, and sure enough, you see at least half a dozen messages from Yeosang loaded on his lockscreen. You can’t read them from here, but you can guess that they're about you. 

“He doesn’t want me to show you,” Wooyoung continues, “but he’s really concerned. He cares about you a lot.”

You feel yourself flush. This shouldn’t surprise you, not when you’ve been seeing each other for three months already, but something about the earnestness of it all still makes you feel weak in the knees. 

You opt not to respond to Wooyoung, focusing on your plate instead. You finish it dutifully, and Wooyoung is by your side in an instant, taking the tray in his hands before moving to leave Yeosang’s room. 

“Thank you so much for cooking,” you tell him as he starts to walk away. "You really didn't have to."

“Mmhmm. You’re someone special to him, so,” Wooyoung mutters, just before he exits. You’re left wondering what he could possibly mean by that until sleep finds you again. 

When you wake, it’s still morning. Abdominal pain slices you deeper, twisting into an amorphous form, vicious and unrelenting.

You shift, letting out an involuntary whine when you feel something damp pooling beneath you. Sure enough, there is a dark red puddle between your legs, staining Yeosang’s bed sheets. All at once, your body begins to shut down as the pain coils tighter and tighter, leaving you little room to breathe. 

You let out a sob. It’s been a long, long time since your cramps have given you this much trouble. Of course it had to happen while you were alone at Yeosang’s apartment. You can already feel the shame and disgust twisting alongside the horrible feeling in your gut. 

In a flash, Wooyoung is at the door, footsteps thundering down the hallway. His eyes are wide as saucers as he takes in your slumped form. He rushes to you, and you feel his hands on your shoulders, but your perception of things fades in and out. All you can think of is the sheets, the pool of blood still under your body, how fucking ashamed you are to make a mess of things, that you couldn’t take care of yourself better on your own—

Wooyoung shakes your arm hard, cutting through your panic like a blade. 

“Do you need to go to the hospital!?”  he shouts, crisp alertness palpable in his bright eyes. 

Your breath catches in your throat. “I, um, I don’t think—?”

“Like hell you don’t,” he scowls, grabbing his phone and starting to type out a text. You grab at his wrist, and he gives you a sharp, incredulous look. 

“I’m fine, really,” you promise, doing your best to suppress your wince. “But…”

“But what, you’re clearly in pain!” 

You let out a shaky breath. The words are tumbling out of your mouth before you can really think them over. 

“Could you, maybe, ask for Yeosang to come home?” You suck in a breath, knowing that it’ll be hard to be so vulnerable in front of him but you don’t care — you need his comfort. “I know he’s busy at practice but I… really need him right now. Please.” 

At that, Wooyoung seems to soften, pulling his hand softly from your grip. He nods, opening his phone and pulling up Yeosang’s contact. He dials Yeosang’s number, then puts his phone between his ear and his shoulder when Yeosang picks up on the first ring. 

“How soon can you be back at the apartment?” Wooyoung asks. His tone seems firm, you think, but you wonder if there’s something else in it Yeosang can hear from him that you can’t. “Yeah, she’s in a lot of pain. I think she had a panic attack, too. Keeps asking for you.” 

Wooyoung’s eyes flit over to yours. “He wants to talk to you,” he says, so you nod and take the phone. 

“H-hi...” 

“Baby,” Yeosang gasps, tight with concern. 

Instantly, your eyes well with tears. You miss him. It’s only been a few hours since you were sleeping in his arms, even sooner since you’ve exchanged texts, but you can feel the ache deep in your chest all the same. 

“Shhhh,” he coos, gentle as ever. “I’ll be home in fifteen. Will you be okay?” 

You take in a small, hiccupping breath. “I… think so.” 

“Good girl,” he says, and your heart flutters. You can hear something clicking in the background. “Do you want me to stay on the line until I’m back?” 

“Please.”

“It’ll be okay ,” he promises, then breathes out your name in a way that makes your head tingle pleasantly. “Take some deep breaths with me. Can you do that, sweetheart?" 

You shake your head. “I ruined your sheets,” you tell him, your voice wobbling. “I’m so, so sorry, Yeo, but there’s so much blood, I don’t think it’ll come out—”

“Y/n,” he says, stern, halting your ramble in its tracks. "It’s fine, I promise. They can be replaced.” 

“I just…” you shift, wincing again at the puddle between your thighs. “It feels so gross. I’m disgusting.” 

“You’re not,” he assures you. “It’s a perfectly normal thing your body does. You just need to be taken care of.” You don’t agree with him — this is the most disgusting you’ve ever felt in ages — but your heart melts all the same.

You hadn’t noticed Wooyoung slipping out of the room, but he returns carrying a couple of towels that he puts down next to you. You scooch and roll over onto them, a little relieved to not be bleeding directly on the bed anymore. Wooyoung hovers by the door as Yeosang leads you through some deep breathing exercises over the phone. It takes a few minutes, but your heart rate is gradually slowing down.

"I’ll be right there, dear,” Yeosang tells you, your heart finally steady after what has to have been at least twenty rounds of box breathing. You hear his key twisting in the key hole a few moments later and then he’s bursting past Wooyoung and into his room, taking in the sight of you and enveloping you into his strong arms.

You think, though you’re too shy to admit it out loud, that he looks really handsome like this. Sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, dark hair swept back, his full attention on you. You feel your cheeks go pink as he tucks you into his sturdy chest. 

He presses a kiss to your temple and just like that, your heart is racing again. 

“My strong, beautiful girlfriend,” he murmurs. The sound of his deep voice so close to your ear makes you shudder. “So patient for me. Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

He sweeps one arm underneath your legs and you hesitantly circle your arms around his neck, trying your best to avoid your middle touching him too closely. 

“Don’t wanna get blood on you,” you mumble into his shoulder. 

“Don’t care,” he hums, kissing the tip of your nose, and you allow yourself to believe him.

In moments, Yeosang has you sitting on a stool in the shower. Your bloody shorts have been discarded into the sink, along with the tank top you slept in. Ordinarily, you might’ve felt uncomfortable being so exposed and vulnerable in front of him while you’re not feeling 100%,  but now, you just feel content. 

When Yeosang pulls off his shirt and pants, leaving him only in a pair of black boxer briefs, you feel something thrum beneath your fingertips. Even after a handful of intimate nights together, you’re still surprised by his boldness, the way that he holds himself so confidently behind closed doors, just for you to see. You feel shy when Yeosang steps into the shower behind you, closing the curtain. 

If the dried blood between your legs bothers Yeosang, he shows no indication. He just smiles at you warmly as he gets the water running, gently massaging your upper arms to keep you comfortable. Once the water gets warm enough, he sets you under the stream. The warm water feels delightful on your back, even more so when Yeosang runs a loofa under it and washes your body. 

“You really don't have to do all of this,” you tell him, but one of his hands finds your elbow and stops you in your tracks. 

“Let me help you,” Yeosang whispers, “please.”

You swallow. There’s something wanting in his eyes that you can’t quite put into words. 

The loofa hesitantly brushes against the top of your knee, and you let go. 

His touch, solid but gentle, finds you in your most tender spots. His fingers start at your thighs, scrubbing gently at the dried blood. Each time he touches you there is a question in his eyes, an is this okay? that you meet with unhesitant permission. 

When his fingers brush the top of your stomach, inching nearer and nearer to your tender breasts, you gasp.  

“Sorry,” he giggles, but you hold his hand against the swell of your breast, keeping him there. His slender fingers knead at them softly, leaning down to kiss you. It’s all lips and tongue, sensual and fluid, and when he sucks on your tongue it pulls a needy, involuntary noise from the back of your throat. 

Yeosang is good at kissing. It almost embarrasses you when your toes curl from just a few seconds of making out — from experience, you know he’s barely even getting started — but you know how much he likes it when you’re vocal about how much you appreciate him. 

“Yeosang,” you gasp, hoping even a fraction of what you feel gets expressed through your tone. 

“Sorry,” he smiles against your lips. “Looks like I got a little carried away…” 

You try not to feel disappointed when his focus returns back to washing your body. His hands are careful and practiced, putting firm pressure in all of the areas you need washed most. You sigh at the intimacy of it all, but your mind is still elsewhere. 

“Something on your mind?” he asks a few moments later, and you shrug. 

“I’m just so happy to have a boyfriend that’ll do this for me,” you gesture vaguely at yourself, “even when I’m all disgusting like this.” 

You mean it as a joke, sort of, but you can tell he notices something in your words. His hand stills from where it’s been stroking your hip. 

“You think you’re disgusting?” he frowns. He searches your eyes for a moment, and then he’s dropping to his knees in between your open legs. 

On impulse, you close them. 

“Yeosang,” you warn, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We can’t.” 

“Why not? Because it’s dirty?” He presses a kiss to the side of your knee, sending chills down your spine. “Baby, I won’t push you, but if you’re worried about me… it’s not like I care about a little blood on my fingers.” 

Your eyes widen. Your throat suddenly feels very, very dry. 

“I want you to feel cherished,” he whispers into a stretch mark on your thigh, gentle fingers inching closer to your core. “But only if you’ll let me.” 

Somewhere in you, the tide shifts. You feel so, so stupid for not remembering it sooner. The love he feels for you is real , even if it’s incomprehensible to you. The realization churns something deep in your gut, stoking the flames from a few moments ago. 

“So,” he whispers, soft lips into your wet skin, “what will it be?” 

You want him bad, period cramps be damned. 

“Please,” you whine, and then he’s surging forward in another kiss. 

The kiss is softer this time, almost chaste, making good on his promise to cherish you. His hands, though, are roaming your body in earnest, settling to draw comforting circles against your waist. 

He pulls away from the kiss. “Tell me how you want me, baby.” 

You shudder at the loss of contact. As much as you want all of him, having sex on your period is new territory for you. And he mentioned not minding blood on his fingers, so… 

“Just your fingers,” you tell him. Then, sheepishly, you add: “I love your hands…” 

Pleased with your directness, Yeosang kisses the tip of your nose, soft and innocent, before moving his lips down the expanse of your body. You grip lightly at the base of his head when his tongue twists around your nipple. He replaces it with his fingers as he dips deeper, pressing heated kisses down your tummy, to your pubic bone, until finally he’s at the apex of your thighs. 

“Love this pussy so much,” he murmurs into the plush of your thigh. When his fingers find your clit, rubbing against it gently, your eyes roll back. “So beautiful, so perfect. Made for me.” 

“Yeosang,” you gasp, but it quickly turns into a moan as his fingers find a quicker, pulsing rhythm. 

Your body contorts to meet his fingers, but he moves a steadying hand to your hip. His strength, his unabashed adoration of your body, the practiced ministrations against your core — it’s all so incredibly hot that your brain simply can’t keep up. 

“Mmm?” he intones, pressing a light kiss dangerously close to your slit that has you keening. “Did you need something, baby?” 

“Close,” you admit, too engulfed in the pleasure to be embarrassed at how quickly you’ve begun to feel that tight, coiling feeling in your gut. 

Your admission has Yeosang incredibly pleased, a grin stretching across his handsome face. 

“Already, baby?” he asks, and you feel yourself burn up at how unbelievably attracted to him you feel right now. “You poor thing, all pent up like that. Must’ve needed me so badly.” 

You let out a little whine at Yeosang’s words. You really did need him, didn’t you? All of today, it was him you craved. He knows you so well, so intimately… 

“It was a good thing I could come home early, hmm? Take care of you just the way you like.” 

You whine louder when he draws tight, concentrated circles against your clit, his other hand holding you still even as you try to meet his thrusts. 

“Can you come for me, sweetheart? Want to hear your pretty little voice moaning my name.” 

The tension snaps all at once, your orgasm crashing into you with reckless abandon as your body folds into itself. But Yeosang doesn’t stop, just pumps you gently through it as you dutifully let out a cry of his name. 

Moments pass, and you’re still twitching from the aftershocks when Yeosang gets up to turn the water off. He’s covering you with a towel before you can process how cold you are. Once you’re dry and warm, he presses a single kiss on your forehead softly before helping you back onto your feet. 

“That was really nice,” you tell him, a little shy despite yourself. 

He smiles warmly. “I’m glad, baby. I hope you feel a little better.”

“A lot better,” you agree. 

He helps you into a new set of clothes, and you smile as he squeezes lightly at your curves. 

Just as you’re both about to exit, he hums exaggeratedly. “Though you did cum kind of fast, didn’t you?” 

You swat at his shoulder, his laughter ringing in the open air. 

That night finds you in Yeosang’s bed again, this time with fresh sheets. You sit snugly with your back against his chest, his arms enveloping you as you watch a movie on his laptop. 

Every few minutes, he’ll whisper something in your ear. Sometimes it’s affectionate, about how strong he knows you are for him, how proud he is of you. Sometimes it’s a little snide comment about the characters in the film. The intimacy leaves you with a warm, light feeling in your stomach, as if you’re getting butterflies for him all over again. 

At some point, though, the tide shifts back. Your insecurities won’t leave you forever, even with the most loving boyfriend in the world. Your period isn’t making it any easier, either; you’ve always been a hell of a lot more emotional on your heaviest days. 

At the first sign of tears, Yeosang spins you around and embraces you against his soft chest. 

“I stay the night,” you choke out between sobs, “and I ruin your bedsheets. I basically make a murder scene in your bathroom. Your roommate cooks for me and all I do is freak him out and beg him not to take me to the hospital. I made you leave your class early , Yeosang, all I do is—”

“Make my life better,” he finishes, halting your words. You meet his eyes, and they’re brimming with nothing but earnest adoration. “All you’ve done is make my life better, ever since we met.” 

You sniffle. “Even when I’m like this?” 

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to remind you, as often as you need.”

And with a look into his deep, earnest eyes, you decide you can believe him. 

[delzinrowe]

They Find Your Toys [PART A] - HEADCANON

A/N: I have nothing to say about this... WARNINGS: May be considered NSFW. Nothing explicit. F!Reader SUMMARY: Self-explanatory. Their reaction when they find your toys. [Established relationship]. INCLUDES: ★ Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, Yuta, Toge, Maki, Takuma ★ → PART B

YUJI ITADORI... This boy, as sweet and naive he can be, he’s not an idiot. He’s seen magazines, he’s got access to the internet, of course he knows what those toys are and how you use them. But considering you’re his girlfriend, he values and respects your privacy. Therefore, no matter how he found it (possibly by changing your bed sheets because he wanted to do something nice for you) this sweet green flag would simply put the toy back to where it was. He wouldn’t even mention it because he doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or embarrassed (there’s no reason for it anyways).

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO... Among the students Megumi is pretty much the one that blushes the easiest. Finding your toys, for whatever reason, would render him frozen in place for a good five minutes. His mind would go blank. Does he think you’re attractive? Absolutely. Has he had inappropriate thoughts of you? Yes, even if he would never admit it. But does he feel even remotely okay finding your toys? Hell no. He’d put it back so fast, and leave your room immediately. Maybe even the building. Hell, he’d probably leave the entire city in a heartbeat before his face gets any redder. And don’t you dare mention to him that your toy was suddenly placed somewhere else. Poor Megumi would suffer a heart attack from embarrassment.

NOBARA KUGISAKI... She’d most probably be torn about what to think and what to do. As a girl herself she’s extremely curious. With all this sorcerer nonsense she barely even has time for a beauty face mask, much less to take care of her stress in that way. She might even try it out after properly cleaning it. (Always clean your toys before and after use!!!) Afterwards she’d clean it and put it back. She’s not too shy to bring it up, although she does blush when she mentions it. Once the initial awkwardness fades away for the most part you two would potentially make your own experiences with the toy together.

YUTA OKKOTSU… Listen, pre Shibuya/Culling Games this boy would be an entire blushing mess, stammering to himself after stumbling over your toy while helping you clean your room. When you’re not in the room he would quickly put it back where he found it.

Now… Post Shibuya/Culling Games, he lost a lot of his initial shyness, having learned a lot through his short time surrounded by mature adults. Also, this boy has access to the internet, let’s not kid ourselves. After Culling Games he matured a lot and his confidence is stronger, he knows there are some spots he might not reach well, or probably neglected, which is why he’d use his next chance with you to try out a bunch of things he googled. Most of them have you forget that you even had a toy to begin with. And with him constantly learning new tricks, you might not ever need your toy at all anymore.

TOGE INUMAKI… Oh this boy is pouty and upset as can be. He can’t seem to understand why you would need a toy if he tries so hard to satisfy you. He might not look like it, but he’s sensitive, and he’d take it to heart, as much as he’d try not to. He’d start wondering if he is doing something wrong or if he’s not enough. You notice that when he’s even less vocal than usual, not even using his rice ball ingredients to troll people. When you ask him he can’t help but “blurt out” (with unintelligible speech) about the toy he found. It takes you a while to understand but eventually you’re blushing like crazy while reassuring him that you never used it (lie) because it was a stupid gag present from Nobara (another lie). He immediately calms down and seems happy again. You are far too embarrassed to tell him that you used the toy regularly before getting physical with him, but not having touched it since, because he's treating you so well. You’ll just put the toy in a box to forget about.

MAKI ZENIN… Depending on how far your relationship has progressed, this would be a turning point. If you’re not even close to being physical, she’d be decent to put it away and not mention it. If you’re touched base and gotten handsy, she’d use it as an ice breaker to advance further, albeit with a certain level of understanding and a bit of romance. If you’ve gotten very physical before, she’d hide it somewhere close and take out your toy during your passionate love making, adding it to the session and intensifying both your pleasure.

Either way, Maki wouldn't be too shy when finding it in the first place, she'd most probably already have one or two toys of her own. At most she'd be disappointed in your choice of toy.

TAKUMA INO... For being the oldest of the youngest he’s definitely not the most mature one. He reverts back into a stupid horny teenager the instant he finds your toy. Just imagining his gorgeous girlfriend using that on herself is enough to rile him up extremely. Whatever you’re doing right now, it has to wait. He’s bombarding you with messages about how he misses you, how he wants you home, how his little friend misses you. When you ask him why he suddenly seems so overly horny, all he replies with is a picture of your toy, with the words “I don’t have any toy I can use when I miss you”. Oddly enough, that’s strangely romantic. He almost expects you to reply “use your hand”, but come on, who could resist our favourite skater boy? Of course you’d excuse yourself from whatever you’re doing and rush home to him. After he shows you just how much he missed you, you tell him that the toy doesn’t even come close to him, because you know that secretly his pride is a little wounded at his girlfriend having to use a toy. At which she smiles brightly like a golden retriever.

[sevikasenby]

just you (ao3 link)

wc: 1.9k

i think that grinding your cunt against sevika’s is probably the most effective way to fuck her stupid. sevika is actually quite a touchy person when she’s with someone she loves. it takes her a while to get comfortable with the fact that someone wants her to touch them, not even in the sexual sense, just like holding hands, a hand resting on your back, legs bumping into each other or tangling your legs together while getting warm under the covers.

it goes the other way as well, sevika took time to understand that someone wanted her to touch them but also that she wanted someone to touch her. whenever she fucked you, you were always gripping onto her in some way, pulling her impossibly closer, just showing that you needed her. but she also needed you. she needed you so fucking bad.

it usually happens after a very long, tiring, and frustrating day of work where sevika will come home and just need you. whether that means in a non sexual sense of taking a shower (or sometimes bath) together, cuddling on the couch and eventually falling asleep or in the sexual sense of her eating you out to help her relax, and vice versa, or one of your favorites, her fucking you into the mattress to let out some frustration because you can never say no to getting fucked by your painfully hot, angry and frustrated girlfriend.

even after all of that, you still have one absolute favorite. when she needs you. when she needs you to be on top her. when she needs you fucking her and telling her how good she is. when she needs to come home and be taken care of by you.

and when sevika came home tired, frustrated, and almost immediately going to change out of her work clothes (because a lot of the time she will sit around for a bit or go and do something like work on her arm in said clothes) you knew it was one of those nights.

a couple minutes went by and you went to check on her. you found her sitting at her desk, already out of her work clothes of course and into a loose t -shirt and a pair of boxers, cleaning some excess shimmer off of her arm. you didn’t need to say anything as you walked up behind her and grabbed the rag she was using and started cleaning her arm for her. she let you, she always does.

you leaned back against the desk while she watched you. you’ve gotten pretty good at cleaning her arm, and sevika’s gotten good at letting you clean her arm. you would clean it from time to time. normally if there was too much blood or dirt down in between some of the mechanics she wouldn’t let you clean it since she could get too it easier. on the rare occasion you did, sometimes having to extract the blade or get in between her claws, sevika always tried to see it as a reminder for her that you weren’t scared of it.

after you finished cleaning, you dropped the rag onto the desk and sat yourself in sevika’s lap, wrapping your arms around her neck. you rested your forehead against hers as your fingers gently ran through her dark hair, feeling her relax against you. her arms curled around your waist, pulling you flush against her chest.

your hand came up to cup the side of her face, your thumb caressing her cheek, “what do you need, love?”

“just you.”

“how?”

her lips were quick to capture yours. it’s the first time you’ve kissed since she’s been home. you could still feel the scar that was on her bottom lip from just a couple days ago and the taste of her cigars still lingered on her lips. she normally has a smoke on her way back from work.

her flesh hand made its way underneath your shirt, lightly scratching your back. her soft lips never left yours, the kiss becoming more and more desperate but still gentle as ever. her breath quickened, her heart was starting to race, and her grip on your waist had tightened, not wanting to let you go, not even for a second.

you took the opportunity to roll your hips against hers, making a soft moan escape her lips. one of your hands trailed down between you and brushed your fingers against her core. another moan fell from her along with a breathy “i need you.”

thats all you needed and next thing you knew you were on the bed with sevika underneath you. her shirt was removed first and your mouth instantly attached to one of her hardened nipples, the one other being rolled between your fingers. her tits have always been so sensitive and you can make her come just from touching or sucking on them.

you felt yourself growing wet as sevika’s flesh hand cupped the back of your head, bringing you closer her, if that was even possible. she was squirming underneath you, moaning so so pretty, her mech hand gripping the sheets beside her. you released her nipple, making a wet pop noise and moved over to her left one, her most sensitive one. faint blue scars traced her skin. they were very faded but still present.

while your tongue swirled around her nipple, your hand slid beneath the waistband of her boxers, and much to sevika’s delight, finally touching her. not surprising, her cunt was soaked and still growing wet as you continued to suck on her breast.

“f-fuck, baby.” she moaned as she arched into you when your fingers brushed over her clit.

“that feel good, sev? hmm?”

“so good, feel’s so fuckin’ good.”

her clit was throbbing as you continued drawing circles over it. you could now feel the wet spot you had made on your own underwear. sitting up and pulling away from her breast and your hand out of her boxers, you took your own shirt off and then your pajama pants and underwear. you moved to her boxers, looking at her for a moment so she could give you a nod that she was ready.

you slipped her boxers off her, finally revealing her wet pussy and watched as she clenched around nothing. god, you just wanted to dive in and suck on her sweet clit till her thick thighs clamped around your head but instead you kissed where her happy trail lead down into the beautiful patch of hair she had.

sevika squirmed under you again, whining and grabbing at you to bring you closer.

“you want something, love?” you knew she did.

“need to feel you, please.” and you knew exactly what she meant.

as bad as you wanted to tease her, to make her plead and beg for you, the desperate look in her eyes made you want to give her everything she wanted. she needed you, so she had you.

you made her lift her leg up so you could slot in between them. you hovered over her heat, not wanting to touch her just yet. you leaned down to capture her lips in a soft kiss, hearing her sigh happily against you. you didn’t pull away as you finally lowered yourself onto her, connecting your already soaked cunts together and you got what you wanted: her gasping against your lips.

still not pulling away, you started moving your hips to rub your cunt against hers, wanting to hear and feel her moan and whimper against you. her flesh arm wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly closer. her soft breasts were pressed against yours, making you both sigh in contentment.

it was easy to figure out why sevika loved to be the one on top fucking you so much, hearing your moans was music to her ears and now hearing her moan so pretty because of you made you never want to stop pleasuring her, never want to stop taking care of her.

while you wanted to let her stay wrapped around you, you decided to pull away and sit up, letting you hit just the right spot every time and letting out your own moans and curses. between the sound of your cunts kissing and sevika’s sinful moans, you weren’t sure which was turning you on more.

maybe it was the way your warm, wet cunts molded perfectly together, maybe it was how sevika’s eyes rolled back every time your clits touched just right or maybe it was how she couldn’t form a coherent sentence together besides strings of curses and the occasional “please”, “more”, “faster”.

“closer, please."

you weren’t going to deny her this time, there was no way in hell you could. you leaned down letting her wrap her arms, both flesh and metal, around you. she buried her face into your neck, muffling her moans, not in a way to try and hide them, but because she just wanted to be as close to you as possible.

you ended up wrapped around each other, faces buried into each others necks, the combined wetness of you both was definitely soaking into the sheets beneath you and was making an obscene squelching noise. the way her hands gripped harder at your back as if you still weren’t close enough, you were never close enough.

you tried your best to keep your own moans down, only wanting the sound of hers filling your ears but the feeling of her warm, wet cunt drove you absolutely crazy.

“you feel so fuckin’ good, baby.” you told her. “so fuckin’ good for me."

when she pulled away for some fresh air, her mouth was slightly opened, her breathing was heavy, a thin sheen of sweat covering her forehead and her hair was all messy. one of your hands came up to brush the hair out of her face so you could rest your forehead against hers.

you watched as she fell apart beneath you even further, getting closer and closer. you sped up when you felt her legs start shaking, doing your best to keep yourself steady while you were also getting close.

her throbbing clit rubbed against yours so perfectly, you were both reaching the edge so quickly now.

“aah, fuck!”

“thats it, sev, let it out, i’ve got you.”

sevika shoved her face back into your neck, streams of moans falling from her lips.

“i’m not gonna let you go.”

and you didn’t. you held onto her while her whole body shook with pleasure as she came.

feeling the way her cunt pulsed against you made you finally tip over the edge, gripping onto her shoulder while you slowed down your thrusts, not wanting to send either of you into overstimulation.

you both completely relaxed, still holding onto each other while catching your breath. you felt something wet against your neck and you pulling your head up and saw sevika with tear streaks down her cheeks. she wasn’t actively crying but she obviously had at some point. it wasn’t unusual at all either. it wasn’t like this was uncommon for her, or for you at times.

sometimes it just happened. it was happy crying. sometimes the pleasure you were making her feel was too much, too good and she just couldn’t help it. same goes for you.

your hand reached up and cupped her cheek, wiping away the tears with the pad of your thumb. her eyes were already droopy, near falling asleep as you placed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“i love you so much.” you whispered to her.

“i love you more.”

“impossible.”

taglist: @abitohoney @archangeldyke-all @shimtarofstupidity @sevsbaby @zaunite-leo

[chimcess]

Waterlog || pjm (2)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 11.5k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: PINING, sexual tension, sad backstory, parental issues, more than likely bad swimming terminology, probably some bad work out advice, i'm trying my best lol, tae is too much but i love him, talks of past drug use (not reader or jimin), strong language, mental health things, medication use, allusions to depression, did i say pining?, reader is horny and awkward 99% of the time, can we blame her?, mood swings, i think they are so cute together, i promise more romance is coming soon A/N: Howdy. I know we're having a pretty slow start, but I think it'll be worth it in the end. I enjoy a good slow burn, especially when there's so much awkward sexual tension involved. Thanks for reading!!!

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Waking up the next morning, I was greeted by a loud knocking on my door. Stumbling, I told whoever it was that I was on my way. The knocking stopped but was quickly followed by Violet’s loud voice. My things were here, and I needed to let the movers inside.

“Christian and Kook are here already,” She added. “Managed to get an extra pair of hands, too.”

I changed into a pair of jeans and threw on a pull over. It was not supposed to be as cold today, but I did not think a short-sleeved shirt would be enough to keep me warm. Sliding into my boots, I opened the front door.

Violet was there, her hair in a braid again, wearing a blue plaid shirt and bootcut jeans. Beside her was Jimin, a large smile already on his face. Two other men were here. I was certain I had seen one of them before. He was very handsome with a heart shaped face and soft chin, large, asymmetrical brown eyes, and downturned lips. His hair was very obviously dyed, the blue so bright when the sun hit it my eyes hurt.

The other man was less familiar. His hair was black, styled into a trendy wolf cut, with his bangs pulled out of his face into a ponytail. He had a pure, youthful, and elegant look about him, and a few piercings. There was one on his eyebrow, one on his bottom lip, and so many on each ear I could not count them all. If I could describe him in a single word, it would be cartoonish. His eyes took up most of his face, large and doe-like, with all of his other features soft and small. Like the blue haired man, he was very handsome.

This upset me more than it should have, because despite how wonderful they both looked, all I could think about was how much I preferred Jimin. It was incomparable, actually. While they were certainly my type, I could only see how not Jimin-like their features were.

“Good morning,” I greeted them awkwardly, my voice scratchy. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you both.”

“It’s such an honor to meet you,” The blue haired man’s enthusiasm caught me off guard. Despite me never making the move to shake either one of their hands, he reached for mine anyway. He reminded me of a labrador retriever, and I could imagine a tail wagging in time with his vigorous handshake. “I’m Taehyung Kim. I used to watch you, like, all the time back in the day.”

I knew that name. Studying his face a little more, it hit me. Taehyung Kim, a.k.a., The Seal of Michigan, a.k.a, V. I never understood why he had been given that last one, but it must have some sort of meaning to him because the guy lights up when anyone uses it. He was a famous snowboarder and had been to the 2020 winter Olympics. He was just a few months younger than Jimin.

“That’s very kind of you to say,” I gripped his hand back a bit more now. “I watched you at the last Olympics. You did great.”

He blushed and let go of my hand, “I didn’t win anything, but I had a lot of fun.”

That was true. The kid was brand new on the scene and let some of his nerves get to him. I had learned the hard way that hesitation could ruin a great performance, but I was sure he would do better in January. The Winter Olympics were always a few months ahead of summer, and I would surely be watching Taehyung this year. If I was going to spend time with Jimin then I would need to get along with his friends.

“It’s not always about winning,” I tried to comfort him. “I didn’t win every time either.”

That placated him. Jimin quickly introduced me to Jungkook after. He was an NHL player for the Red Wings. I admitted that I had no idea who he was and never really watched hockey before, but that only made Jungkook swear to make me an avid fan before I left Michigan. For some reason, I believed him.

It did not take long for the movers to get all of my furniture and boxes into the house. With the boys’ help, I was tipping the two men much earlier than I anticipated. All three of them insisted on helping me unpack despite me telling them I could do it on my own. The place was entirely too small for the four of us, but we managed to make it work.

I had told them my bedroom was off limits. I unpacked my clothes and put my underwear away. My room was the largest in the house. With enough space for my full-sized bed, nightstands, and dresser, I was pleased. The only downside was not having a closet, but I did not bring anything nice enough for it to really matter. It was inconvenient but not the end of the world.

I was, however, happy to see more color. My blanket was dark orange, pillowcases covered in baby pink cow print, and the otter plushie Namjoon’s mom made me was resting right in between them. I installed some simple shelving above my bed, warmly lit Christmas lights wrapped around the bars, where I displayed my books and a few of my plants. The rest were lined up on the windowsill beside the bed.

Brightly colored art now hung on the walls, a large mirror above my dresser, and a peg board for my earrings made the space feel lived in. Whatever books could not fit on my shelves got stacked and put on the nightstand. I still wanted to buy a rug and curtains, but that was on the bottom of my list of priorities.

The boys were all talking and laughing as they worked which helped me relax. I hated being trapped in quiet spaces. Finished with my room, I went to check in with them and move things around. I doubted any of them would get the knick-knacks just right.

“Don’t worry about the decorations,” I said, announcing my presence. Taehyung was staring at two of my paintings with mild panic. “I’ll take that.”

Snatching the photos, I smiled at him. The living room was coming together nicely. Jungkook pushed the dark green loveseat against the wall and all of my throws were on top of it. My largest potted plant was beside it and I decided then I would keep it there. Moving the throw pillows to the floor, I started to put my wall art up. Hoseok complained that I was going to become a hoarder if I bought any more shit. Andrea, however, said that I had great taste, so I listened to her instead.

“You’re a big face of Earthy colors,” Jungkook said, looking around the house. “Lots of plants, too.”

I shrugged, “My fiancé had a lot of succulents and stuff, so I guess it rubbed off on me after a while.”

In truth, Namjoon not only had succulents and cacti, but an entire apartment filled with plants. He had a small garden in the back, vegetables and herbs growing in despite the weather in Colorado making it difficult. The man had a green thumb and loved taking care of things. I had been in charge of them once we moved in together and learned to love it. Even after he died, I couldn’t imagine not having at least five plants in the house.

I noticed the room had gone eerily quiet. I realized then what I had said. It was the first time I had spoken about Namjoon with any of them. Knowing I had made the atmosphere awkward, I tried to break up the tension.

“What colors do you like, Jungkook?”

I could physically feel the mood lighten.

“Black,” His reply was quick. I groaned. He laughed. “What? I like the clean look.”

“It’s not clean,” I argued. “It’s depressing.”

Taehyung took my side, “My house isn’t as decorated as yours, but I have more going on than either one of them. I’m a huge fan of video games and photography so I have a lot of stuff hanging up.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Jimin chimed in from the bathroom. He placed himself in charge of getting that room squared away. “His place isn’t as nice as yours. It’s all cluttered and disorganized."

“Nu uh,” Taehyung argued childishly.

“Dude, you have stuff everywhere,” Jungkook shot back, handing me another picture frame.

“They’re lying,” Taehyung told me.

“You’re so full of shit, Tae,” Jungkook sighed.

“Literally the dumbest thing to lie about,” Jimin snarkily threw in from the bathroom.

“Bullies,” Taehyung was addressing me again and this time I could not help my chuckles. “They always gang up on me.”

As the boys continued to bicker, I worked. I finished hanging up the art above the sofa and got to organizing the throws. Taehyung had already pulled out my rug, and I started figuring out how I wanted to place all of the floor pillows. Namjoon never used the couch, no one in his family did, and I had become so conscious of their comfort that I always had a large array of pillows on the floor for them to use. After a few years, I had joined them, and I kept up the trend once I moved to the Springs. The sofa was little more than decoration.

“Damn, these are nice.”

Looking over my shoulder, I was surprised to see Jungkook holding up one of my medals. I was positive I had not packed it and the box he was hunched over was completely unfamiliar as well. Embarrassment and anger swelled up in my chest. I had placed Minho and Tilly in charge of coordinating with the movers so I could focus on work and training Hoseok before I left. If I had to guess, Tilly had thought it wise to ship over a large package of my most prized possessions for some God forsaken reason.

“I don’t know why those are here,” I hoped my voice sounded playful and carefree. I did not want another tense moment. “One of my friends must have packed them.”

“Holy shit,” Taehyung was now holding the medal. “These are heavy. You have so many.”

Walking over to the box, I took out the rest of the medals. Tilly had only packed four of the eight Olympic medals I owned, probably running out of room. Framed photos of me swimming, with the rest of my team, and my coach were also in the box. My swimsuit from the last Olympics I competed at was folded at the very bottom of the box, my goggles and cap wrapped up in the fabric, and underneath it was something I had not been expecting. A framed photograph.

I remembered that night as if it were yesterday. I was eighteen coming off the back of two major wins and making my mark in the athletic community. I had just moved to Denver; Victor had gotten divorced the year prior and his ex-wife moved to Colorful Colorado taking his daughter with her. My coach demanded he was close enough to see her every weekend. It really did not matter to me where I lived, so it was one of the easier decisions I had to make.

I knew Hoseok lived in the area, and we had always been friendly at the meets we had in common. I ended up getting his number from Ozzie and after getting coffee I knew we would be friends for life. The picture was taken at his New Year’s Eve Party. I needed to get laid, he had said, and he knew a few guys he thought I might hit it off with. That was where I met Namjoon.

He was a college student, fresh faced and stumbling over his words. I was charmed by him almost instantly, even if Hoseok was positive the two of us were too different to last. I could recall the smell of fireworks in the air, the way his voice cracked whenever another one would go off, and how excited his eyes looked whenever I asked him about his major. Namjoon spoke for hours about Philosophy, all of his favorite poets, and the way he believed the universe worked. He was so clumsy it was practically a disability, and the loud sounds were so nerve wracking, he flinched whenever the fireworks boomed.

Picking up the small picture, I smiled. It was taken right after midnight. Hoseok’s sister said we looked so sweet that she could not help herself. I had all but ripped Namjoon’s hair out when the countdown began, kissing him before midnight ever came. His hands rested gently on my hips, and he huffed like he had run a marathon when we finally pulled apart. His breath was hot when he went back in for more, panting into my mouth as I clung to him like an addict. It was a beautiful moment. It was a moment I would never forget.

Suddenly, I was no longer mad at Matilda. I was sure it had been her who did this. Minho would not go through so much trouble if he thought it would upset me. Either way, I was happy to have the picture. While I was no longer in love with Namjoon, my heart slowly healing itself and making space for someone new, I would never forget our time together. It was too perfect, too magical; too loving to forget.

“Is that him?” Taehyung asked. The way he said it told me that he knew what had happened. I doubted there was a person in our world who didn't know. “The guy who died?”

I nodded, “His name was Namjoon.”

“Damn, that’s rough,” Jungkook’s voice was very gentle, and I could hear the compassion in it. “Sorry to hear that. Hope you’re doing okay.”

I smiled at him and nodded, “It was a few years ago.”

Taehyung was the one who broke the moment this time and I was grateful for the reprieve.

“These aren’t all of them, right?” He pointed at the medals still in the box. "Olympic medals, I mean."

I shook my head, “No but I guess she just grabbed the ones I had at my house. The other four I keep at my school. They’re in a case in my office.”

The ones Tilly had packed away were from 2012. Andrea had been the one to convince me to bring my other medals to school. Before that I had them all stored in a box in the deepest corner of my basement. I hated looking at them. Hated everything that they represented. The only reason these had been hanging up was because I could not be bothered taking them down.

“Where should we put them?” Jungkook asked.

I shrugged, “No idea. Just keep them in the box for now.”

Truthfully, I had no intention of putting them anywhere. While happy to have the photo of Namjoon and I, my feelings on dragging these things around had not changed. I would be very upset if I lost or damaged any of this stuff. Putting everything away, save the picture, I closed the box back up and placed the photo on my coffee table. I would find a better place for it later.

Like all of the times I had been around him, Jimin bled into the background. I listened for his voice, waited for him to add something to the conversation, but he kept to himself. Even when he left the bathroom and joined the three of us, he only answered in one-word sentences and made sound effects to show he was listening. Taehyung and Jungkook seemed used to it, so I had to believe this was just how Jimin normally was.

“You should come and grab some drinks with us,” Jungkook smiled at me.

The boys were going out for a late lunch since we finished a little later than we had thought we would. I was appreciative that they had invited me out but declined the offer. All of them were disappointed.

“Why not?” Taehyung wiggled a large set of keys at me. I could not imagine what all of them could be for and the sound they made when they moved bothered me. “You worried the food’s going to suck or something?”

I shook my head, laughing, “No, it’s nothing like that. I just don’t feel comfortable going to a bar.”

Jimin smiled at me, a small, tight-lipped smile, and I almost laughed at myself when I realized I was holding my breath. I was being ridiculous. I would call Hoseok tonight to get my head screwed back on.

“It’s not a bar,” It was heavenly to hear his voice again. “Taehyung and I don’t drink. Jungkook just likes to sit at the bar so he can watch the games.”

“Oh,” I replied dumbly. “I guess I can come along then.”

Jimin offered to give me a ride while Jungkook and Taehyung rode in the hockey player's beat up Jeep. He was just as quiet on the ride to the restaurant as he was back at the house, and while I wanted to break him out of whatever shell he had put around himself, I had no idea how. We were supposed to work together and barely spoke. Ozzie was not going to be happy about this.

“What time are we getting your car?”

I jumped, not prepared for the question. His eyes were still on the road, and it looked like he was forcing himself to not look my way. It hurt my feelings, but I knew I would have to get over it. Whatever his problem was, it had nothing to do with me and I would not let it get in between our working relationship.

“Whenever you want to go,” I replied, going back to looking out of the window.

“We’ll pick it up after we eat. My mom invited you over for dinner. by the way. If you're up for it.”

This had been the most he had said all day, but his voice was off. It was embarrassing how quickly I had become attuned to his little mannerisms, but I was so sure that something was wrong with him it was eerie. His tone was flat and disinterested, and I knew I had done nothing to upset him. Something was obviously bothering him, and I would have to silently support him in my own way. I was not comfortable being more upfront and something told me that Jimin would not like my overstepping.

“I might,” I purposely kept my tone light, hoping he did not realize I could see the darkness in his eyes. Looking at him, I asked, “What is she making?”

“Beef and radish stew,” The mundane topic seemed to ease his frown. “She got a yellow corvina from the Asian market yesterday so she’s going to roast it. Do you like fish?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “It sounds nice. I’ll go.”

A ghost of a smile graced his pretty face and I felt like I had won the lottery. Carefully composed, I looked back out of the window, hiding my little smile behind my hand. He was quiet again, the only sounds in the car being our breathing, but it felt lighter. Finally, I let myself admire the scenery.

Taehyung and Jungkook were already at the bar when we arrived and as soon as we sat down, the snowboarder was quick to hog all of my attention. While Jungkook watched a baseball game on the big screens, Taehyung talked animatedly about his family. Jimin was quietly sipping on a Coke in the seat next to me. It was strange to see how easily his friends ignored him. Like they knew he did not feel like talking.

“My sisters are both in college,” Taehyung continued to ramble. “Twins. It was a nightmare being the baby brother.”

I nodded along and tried my best to keep up with him. I kept getting distracted by Jimin. He barely moved and seemed to be mindlessly watching the tv. He looked so sad it broke my heart. Still, no one else said anything so I kept my thoughts to myself.

“Oh!” Taehyung gasped, noticing a few people who walked in. “I’m going to go say ‘hi.’ It was so great meeting you.”

With a bright smile, Taehyung told the boys about the group and Jungkook decided to join him. Jimin did not even acknowledge he had said anything. Leaving us alone, the restaurant was loud and filled with their chattering.

“Are you hungry?” I asked, trying to make conversation. Picking up the menu the bartender had left with Taehyung when we first arrived, I gave it a quick once over. “We can split an appetizer.”

Jimin looked tired and sad, but I did not know what to say or do for him. We were not lovers, not even friends. We were a pair of strangers who were expected to work together. This seemed much easier over the phone. I took a nervous sip of my drink.

“What are you thinking?” Just the sound of him talking eased my anxiety.

“Uh,” I had barely looked at their menu and pointed to a random item. “Fried pickles?”

Jimin smiled lazily and looked at me, his eyes amused.

“You don’t sound very sure of yourself.”

I shrugged, embarrassed. “I just said the first thing I saw.”

Putting his cup down, Jimin grabbed the menu from my hands and laid it flat on the bar. We leaned over the small paper, our knees touching. I could smell his cologne now and my mouth watered. He smelled so good I struggled to focus.

“Most of the shit here is awful,” His voice had more life in it now and I was glad to see the corners of his mouth pulled up. “Only things worth getting are the chips and salsa, fried cheese, and pasties. The pizza is fine, too, but not worth the money.”

Talking distracted him from whatever had been on his mind, and it made Jungkook and Taehyung’s behavior odd. They were obviously very close, but if I could see how much happier he looked when he was shooting the shit, how couldn’t they? They probably knew something I didn’t, but it did nothing but rub me the wrong way. My friends would annoy me until I had no choice but to talk back.

“Chips are usually pretty safe,” We both agreed on it. “Do you just want chips? I don’t mind getting you a burger or something.”

He shook his head, “Like I said, most of the shit here is awful. Don’t waste your money.”

I ordered the chips for us, and the bartender was happy to help us out. This place was pathetically empty save us and the group Jungkook and Taehyung ditched us for. They were very loud and rowdy, something Jimin said was completely normal. Apparently, they all knew one another but he hadn’t felt like spending time with any of them.

“Are you feeling alright?” I asked, heart pounding. My anxiety over the question was ridiculous, but I felt like this was a good moment to ask. We were both comfortable and the tightness around his eyes was finally eased.

“Just one of those days,” He replied, voice soft.

I sighed, “I get them, too. They’re the fucking worst.”

He chuckled darkly, “It’s like you wake up and that’s already taken all of the energy you had for the day.”

“Why’d you come to the house?” I asked, flagging the bartender for a refill. “I wouldn’t have been upset if you bailed.”

Jimin flushed, “I said I was coming so I came.”

No, I thought, you thought I was going to be mad if you hadn’t shown up. Hamilton had this poor kid so fucked up and scared it pissed me off. As long as I knew Matt, he had always been an ass, but to think he had his trainee putting shit before his mental health and wellbeing made whatever sliver of respect I had for him vanish.

I took a long sip of my drink, “We can’t work together if you don’t talk to me. That will piss me off way more than you canceling on me.”

“Okay,” He let out a very large breath. “I’ll let you know next time.”

As we ate our chips, we moved into safer waters. Jimin was still less talkative in person, but nowhere near as tense as he had been all morning. I found that music was one of his favorite things, and I discussed my own interests in more depth and detail than I ever had before. Jimin’s taste was varied but stuck mostly in 90s R&B and soft Indie artists I had never heard of. At some point I ordered spicy wings and had to admit Jimin was right- they really were awful.

We left the other two behind to go and pick up my car. Jungkook and Taehyung seemed more than happy to watch us leave and the large table barely acknowledged my presence. Jimin accepted their happy shouts when he approached, hugging the ones who stood up to greet him, and forced one of his small, pitiful smiles at a particular brunette who kept batting her eyelashes at him. He introduced me but none of them seemed to really care. Especially the brunette.

“Let me get your number,” Taehyung said to me, holding out a hand for my phone. “We need to hang out again.”

I was nervous about giving him a way to contact me. He reminded me of Tilly, though ten times more energetic, and she always found a way to get on my nerves (the box being one of many examples). Taehyung had yet to overstep the imaginary boundaries I had, but his complete lack of personal space etiquette was astounding. He touched me more in one day than any of my friends in an entire year. He seemed like the type of person to text every day and send a million pictures of himself doing random shit. Even with that in mind, I handed my phone over. He was too nice to say no to.

“Do you like sushi?” Taehyung asked, handing me my phone. “There’s a great place in Detroit we can go to.”

The idea of being trapped in a car with the snowboarder for 45 minutes was not appealing. I could only imagine how much he could talk when he was really excited about something. I would entertain the idea if Jungkook or Jimin came as a buffer, especially if one of them could sit up front. Taehyung yapping away in my ear would give me the biggest migraine I had ever had, and my anxiety over not being entirely focused on the road would make me snippy and rude.

“Only if I can come,” Jungkook piped up. “You’re not going to Bash without me, dude.”

“Well yeah,” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Y/N has to meet Milo and Darcy,” He looked at me, grinning happily. “I think you would really get along.”

I had no idea who either of those people were, but I did not want to ask any questions. Jimin was inching back towards me and telling the others goodbye, and I did not want to hold him up. Taehyung started making plans that I did not pay any attention to. He could always text me when he figured out what he wanted.

“We have to get going,” Jimin was back beside me. “Y/N’s car is sitting at the dealership. It was good seeing everyone.”

I waved at the table and started walking away before Taehyung could touch me. He was definitely a hugger. Jimin was quick to catch up with me, giggling about my “escape.” It had started to snow again, gentle flurries twisting and turning in the wind, and I had forgotten my heavy jacket at home. The long sleeve I was wearing would do nothing to keep me warm.

“Here,” Jimin taking off his jacket. “You need this more than me.”

Draping it over my shoulders, Jimin told me to zip it up. Stunned, I moved on autopilot and shoved my arms through the sleeves. Everything smelled like him, oranges and spice, and his warmth was still clinging to the thick fleece. I could not remember the last time someone had given me their jacket. Dazed, I followed Jimin out to the parking lot, eyes locked on his back. He was in nothing but a thin, black and white striped shirt.

“Thanks,” I said once we were both in the truck, already shrugging out of the light beige jacket. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He held up a hand, “Keep it. The heater is out.”

I shook my head, “What about you?”

He reached into the back and held up a purple hoodie.

“I’ll be alright.”

I put the jacket back on and buckled in. Jimin slipped into the sweatshirt and started the truck. After buckling up, he backed out of the parking lot. I caught sight of the brunette as we left. She was red faced, shouting into her phone. I looked away. Whoever she was angry with was definitely getting an earful.

“Wonder what Tom did this time,” Jimin mumbled.

“Hm?”

“Tom’s Annie’s boyfriend,” He supplied. “They’re always arguing. Worse than Jungkook and Darcy, they break up every other week, but Tom and Annie are at each other's throats every other day.”

I grimaced, “Sounds like my friends. They finally called it quits last year, but they were insufferable.”

Jimin chuckled, “So, what’s Colorado like?”

I talked to him about Andrea and Seokjin first, how we met and how much I loved their daughter. Hoseok and I’s friendship got quite a few laughs out of him, but those quickly died off when I brought up Namjoon. I told him about the day we met and the coffee date that happened a few days later, and that seemed to brighten up the mood again. Namjoon stories were bittersweet but took up such a large chunk of my life it was impossible to gloss over.

“When’s the toxic couple coming up?” He joked.

“I’m getting there,” I replied.

Hoseok and Matilda had known one another longer than the rest of us. Growing up together, no one was surprised when they finally hooked up in high school. It was, however, short lived bliss. Matilda got caught up in the wrong crowd and began doing drugs. Hoseok had tried to help her get through it, but they could never see eye-to-eye. That started their toxic cycle of getting back together, Tilly going to rehab, her relapsing, and them falling out again. It was not until she went two years ago that it managed to stick, but their relationship was too tumultuous to make it very far. They decided to stay friends and she became a constant member in our group.

“That’s crazy,” Jimin shook his head. “Happy she’s doing better now.”

“Me too.”

The rest of the drive was spent talking about Colorado and how beautiful it was. He stayed away from swimming, mostly wanting to hear about the school I worked at and the places I went to in my free time. He kept me talking for the entire 45-minute car ride, question after question keeping me on my toes. He did not like talking about himself, whenever I tried to switch the conversation to his own interests he barely responded before going back to his interrogation. Before I knew it, we were pulled into the dealership and getting down.

“You can leave,” I told him.

“I want to make sure you’re good before I go,” He replied.

The cashier was lovely, her voice bubbly and sweet as she helped me out. Jimin lingered longer than he needed to, helping me fill out my paperwork and making small talk with the dealer. I took my keys and went for a quick test drive before I was finally able to convince Jimin to leave.

The drive back was quiet. I was used to the silence when I drove, but Jimin’s voice had been soothing. Frankly, I was a bit bored without him around. I decided to call Matila and ask about my medals. She apologized but I doubted how sincere she actually was. After catching up with her, hearing all about the guy she went on a date with, and a five-minute rant about Hoseok spending way too much money on Minho’s birthday present, I hung up before she could give me a migraine. As much as I liked Tilly, she was someone I had very little patience for and her voice, high pitched and loud, was like nails on a chalkboard.

I got back in town a little after 3. Violet and Calvin were both home and watching some black and white Western. Calvin offered to make me lunch, but I was quick to decline. I just wanted some space.

As soon as I got in my apartment, I curled up in bed to take a nap. I was overwhelmed after talking so much and desperately needed to recharge. I set an alarm for 5 so I could make it over to the Park house in time for dinner. Quickly sending a quick text to Hoseok, I turned on thunderstorm sounds and closed my eyes.

Na-Yeon and James were both excited to see me, talking about their days and asking how I was settling in. Eloise was there as well, the twins in the back room playing again. Jimin was going to be late. He had gone for a last-minute swim with Milo. When I asked them who that was, it was Eloise who answered.

“That’s Vincent’s fiancé.”

“Who?” I was even more confused.

“Taehyung,” Na-Yeon answered. “You know he hates that name as much as Jimin hates his, Lou."

Eloise blushed, her entire face turning a bright shade of red.

“Sorry,” She scratched behind her ear. Looking back at me, she sighed, “We went to school together. Old habit.”

Now V made sense. It never occurred to me that Jungkook and Taehyung could have their own American names, and neither one introduced themselves that way either. James came to take the seat beside mine, the dining table more crowded then was reasonably necessary.

“Does Jungkook have a second name?” I asked.

“Ian,” Eloise replied. “He goes by both, so I don’t think he cares as much as Tae and Jimin. I know his girlfriend uses both.”

I assumed that was Darcy. Why else would Taehyung assume she would go with us on a day trip to Detroit?

“They call him Ian on the team, too,” James chimed in. “His name is too hard.”

Namjoon never had an American name, at least, not one I had ever heard. The only person I could think of was Hoseok. A lot of his friends called him Jay, something about an old nickname from school, but that was it. Seokjin just went by Jin, Namjoon went by Joon, and Minho went by…well, Minho. None of their parents used American-Friendly names, and Seokjin’s father’s English was still poor even after living here for so long.

“Y/N,” Na-Yeon brought me back to the conversation. “What banchan do you like?”

“My eomeo-nim made these delicious, braised potatoes,” I answered, thinking back on our dinners together. “Kimchi, of course. My ex made the best braised lotus roots. They were always yummy.”

Na-Yeon seemed pleased by my answer. James and Eloise started rambling about their own favorites. Unlike Namjoon, Mr.Park was a big fan of seafood. He grew up in Busan near the Jagalchi Market, which, according to him, was the largest seafood market in South Korea. Eloise talked a little about her favorite Korean dishes before jumping into what she grew up eating. Her father was Scottish and her mother French, so one night she was eating Scottish Pie and daube niçoise the next. It was fun hearing more about Eloise. I would have never guessed she was a first generation American.

“It’s something Tony and I had in common,” She added. “He learned quite a bit of French before he died. Unfortunately, my Korean is taking much longer.”

“Mine isn’t that great either,” I admitted. “Namjoon’s family spoke English and never liked to make me feel awkward. I can follow a conversation fairly well, but only if you speak slowly.”

James laughed, “I will remember that.”

The front door opened, and I could hear loud talking. Eloise sighed. Whoever was with Jimin did not pass her inspection it would seem. She and James seemed to have a small conversation with their eyes. The men were still at the front of the house. Finally, Eloise looked away and scowled.

“Must have brought Milo and Tae over,” She muttered. “I’m going to go check on the twins.”

Eloise left the table. James told me to ignore her. She and Milo did not get along for whatever reason and she chose to ignore him. It was not my business, so I accepted that explanation.

I prepared myself for a bad interaction. So far, Eloise was such a quiet and sweet person I could not imagine anyone actively disliking her. Then again, this was Taehyung’s fiancé, and he was the nicest, most bubbly person I had ever met. It did not seem likely that he would hang around bad company. It could just be a case of personalities clashing.

“Annyeong,” Taehyung greeted us brightly, immediately finding me. “Babe, come say hi.”

A massive, pale man followed in behind him. Milo was a good-looking guy, bright blue eyes and dirty blonde hair, with a solid build. He reminded me of the male swimmers I worked with, his huge size and bulging muscles intimidating. His fashion sense was not as good as Taehyung’s. Ill-fitting black bottoms and a Rick and Morty t-shirt that made me want to roll my eyes. I was definitely biased, my loyalties already in Eloise’s corner. I did not need to know a backstory to be weary. The dude looked enough like Matthew Hamilton to make me dislike him just off principal.

“Milo, Y/N,” Taehyung introduced, gesturing between the two of us. Behind him, Jimin snuck into the kitchen and gave his mom a kiss on the cheek as a greeting. He looked nice in his gray tracksuit. “Y/N, this is my fiancé, Milo.”

I managed a disingenuous smile, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” He replied. His voice was smokey.

“Where’s Lou?” Jimin asked, coming around to greet his father.

“Checking on Harper and Cam,” James told him.

There was not enough room for all of us to sit at the table and I ended up giving up my seat to Na-Yeon. Jimin helped her set the table while I was put in charge of gathering Eloise and the kids. Walking down the hallway, I found the kids’ playroom and knocked.

“Dinner’s ready,” I announced, poking my head inside.

The room was bigger than I thought it would be. Each side was decorated in stereotypical boy and girl colors, Cameron’s bed and wall art a wide variety of blues and teals with dinosaur decals on the walls, while Harper’s was a mix up of baby pink and white. Her bed had more stuffed animals on it than I could count and all of them seem well loved. Their toys split the room in half, a large, circle rug in the middle of it all. Most of the toys were thrown on the floor and Eloise was telling them it was time for them to clean it up.

The children looked so cute in their little matching outfits. Harper’s black hair was braided down her back and the ribbon tied at the end of it matched her cream-colored overalls. Cam’s hair was on the longer side as well, falling to his shoulders with a slight wave. His bright red converse stuck out against the rather plain outfit he was wearing, and I had to assume he put up a fight behind them. Harper started to sing the Barney song as they cleaned.

“Feeling, okay?” I asked their mother. She was sitting in the chair on Harper’s side. “You ran off pretty quickly.”

She shook her head, “It’s nothing. We’ve never gotten along.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Do you want to eat here? I’ll sit with you.”

She smiled, “We can play nice, don’t worry. Thanks, though. I appreciate you asking.”

Dinner was as uneventful as Eloise said it would be. She and Milo greeted one another and then acted as if the other did not exist. I stood up to eat, Taehyung, Milo, and Jimin with me while the others sat down. Cam was excited to talk about school and Harper rambled on and on about her imaginary friend Butter Squash. They were both very sweet and it made me miss Dani. The last time I saw her was when we went skating the weekend before I left.

Taehyung was as talkative as ever. His touches also become bolder. By the time I left, he had an arm around my shoulders and his body pressed against my side. Milo was unbothered by our closeness. He and Jimin spoke the most and again the guy I knew when no one else was around seemingly vanished. This one was too put together, too closed off, and no one, and I mean no one, seemed to care. Every time he laughed half-heartedly or nodded along with whatever Milo was talking about, I felt more confused. Why was he so hot and cold all of the time?

During my drive back home, I tentatively attempted to listen to the radio. I only lasted around a minute or so before I switched it off. I needed silence. The Parks were such a lovely family, but tonight was too much. Between unpacking and Taehyung, I was drained. Hoseok had asked me to call him when I got home but I was going to wait. If it was important enough, he would call me himself.

I fell asleep as soon as my face hit the pillow, my medication making it a dreamless night.

The rest of the week was quiet. I called my friends back home to check in Thursday morning and was happy about Hoseok’s progress. The kids were really liking him, and he thought he may have a permanent job for next year if I decided to keep working with Jimin. I told him not to get his hopes up.

Jimin and I spoke through text daily. He was still going about his normal routine while I brainstormed training and scheduling. By Saturday I was ready to start testing out different ideas. We both seemed eager to get started, actually. Sunday, like I expected, was very quiet. That was his mom’s day, so I tried not to bother him. Violet and Calvin kept me company.

The Andersons were nice people. Violet was always coming to the back and inviting me to join them for breakfast, and her husband enjoyed asking me about my life. Calvin was far more personable than his wife was, but they managed to balance one another out. Sunday evening was the first time I noticed Calvin’s memory issues. He had no idea who I was. I came inside and Violet had to tell him I was their daughter Nancy’s babysitter. He was under the assumption that she was still 10. I left them alone when Violet asked me to pick her up from school. She came out back a few hours later to thank me for going along with everything, and I made sure that she had my phone number in case she needed me to help out if things got out of hand.

It was still dark outside when I left Monday morning. Jimin and I agreed to meet up at 6 am to start our day, but I wanted to get to the gym early. Time to set up and get myself in the right headspace was important to me.

The location he had sent me was more remote than I had originally anticipated. Jimin owned the little gym. It had been a swim school in the past and the place he had first learned he loved the water. He and his mom went to classes together when he was young. The place had been too expensive for the previous owners to keep up with and they were planning on selling it, but Jimin bought it off of them and converted it into a public gym/pool.

In our text exchanges he called it his retirement plan, but I was sure the place meant more to him than that. He had no interest in it until after the cancer diagnosis. If I was to over analyze it, I would say he was trying to hold onto a happy memory. This was their place before sickness and death ran through his family. I would imagine anyone would want to keep something that held so much sentimental value if they could.

Pulling into the parking lot, I was first struck by two things. One, it was open and there were people inside, and two, it was huge. Most of the building was nothing but windows giving me a great view of the muscled men inside. Bright fluorescent lights made my sensitive eyes hurt, and I could hear the faint sound of music coming from somewhere near the gym. The small group of men were together, all of them lifting and spotting each other while talking, and a sense of dread filled my belly.

I was always anxious when I went to a new place, but a new gym was a nightmare. I had bad experiences in the past. Overly friendly creeps who liked to stand around and watch me while I worked out. None of the guys inside gave off bad vibes, but I was still in my car and none of them laid their eyes on me. A woman in a gym was like a drop of blood in water. I had to hope they were not sharks.

Gathering courage, I grabbed my duffle and made my way inside. A pretty, dark-skinned, young woman was sitting at the receptionist desk, and I felt more at ease. If they left her alone then maybe they would not cause me too much trouble either. The music was louder inside, and I recognized the Ciara song. It was a great one for cardio. Fighting the urge to dance, I greeted the receptionist. She put down her magazine and gave me an award-winning grin. She had a nice, dimpled smile.

“Hi there,” She had a thick, Southern accent and I could not tell you where she might be from. I was awful at telling them apart. “Do you have your membership card?”

I laughed nervously, my grip on my bag tightening. “No. I’m here to train with Jimin Park. He said I should have something on file.”

She nodded, her smile unwavering as she looked at her computer and asked for my name.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” I replied, foot tapping along to the Lil Wayne song that came on. I had this one on my own workout playlist back in 2008. I could not help mumbling the words under my breath, “She-she-she lick me like a lollipop.”

“Found you,” The girl grabbed a few sheets of paper from a pile on her side of the desk. “Just fill these out for me and we’ll get your card printed. Your fees have been paid already so no need to worry about that.”

I nodded, half listening. This song was great. Why has it been so long since I last heard it? I went to the gym all the time. I needed to put it back on my playlist. Honestly, the entire Carter III needed to find its way back into my rotation.

“My name’s Giselle if you need anything,” The receptionist pointed to a cluster of chairs right at the front entrance. “You’re super early so Christian isn’t here yet, but I’ll give you the key to the pool room so you can do whatever you need before the boss gets in.”

I smiled at her, “Thank you, Giselle.”

“Anytime, ma’am.”

It took me a few minutes to fill the paperwork out and scan my ID, but Giselle made everything as quick as she could. One of the men working out had come by to ask for some wipes to clean off a few of the machines but left without anything more than a ‘good morning’ thrown in my direction. When we passed by the rest of them on the way to the pool house, we were completely ignored, so it was safe for me to say that they would not be a problem for me in the future. Creeps were never subtle about their creepiness.

“I have to double check with Christian, but I think I’m supposed to give you a spare key,” Giselle said, unlocking the pool. “I’m just going to be sure before I promise you anything. Don’t want to get fired.”

I could tell she was joking. Jimin did not strike me as the type of guy to fire anyone over something like that. It only made sense for me to have a spare key since we would be coming around so much, and I would feel bad about disrupting the staff whenever I needed to get inside. They did not get paid enough to deal with that on top of all of the rest of their duties.

“We keep it locked until 9,” Giselle continued, leading the way inside. “Then we close it back up at 5. Maintenance comes in every Tuesday to treat the water, so you’ll have to be out of here no later than 7. Boss man knows this already so you shouldn’t have any problems with that.”

The pool room was very bland and bare bones. The smell of chlorine hung heavily in the air while the lights around the pool walls illuminated the dark room. It was very big, and I itched to go for a quick dip. The coolness of the water would be nice against my skin. I had grown hot with nerves and gotten a little sweaty.

“We have a few other staff members that will be in around the same time the boss man comes in,” Giselle continued to give me the rundown. “I’m sure he’ll introduce you to everyone just in case you need anything. I’d say make nice with Yoongi first. He’s our in-house massage therapist.”

Pointing to a door on the far-left wall, Giselle let me know that was the pool locker room and the door right next to it was a shortcut to the back offices. Management, marketing, and facility supervisors were usually all back there and I would more than likely never see them. They were not the most social people and worked from home a lot. I could tell by Giselle’s voice that she did not particularly care for management.

“Drew should be here by now,” She checked her smart watch. “She’s the general manager. I’m going to go and grab her and see about that key. She might come back to say ‘hi’ but don’t hold your breath.”

I chuckled, “That bad?”

Giselle rolled her eyes, “Drew’s fine, but Dominic is usually following her around everywhere and he’s annoying. You’ll get what I mean if you ever see them together.”

I laughed, “I’ve had my fair share of weirdos. Thanks again. I appreciate you showing me around.”

She beamed, “It wasn’t a problem. You gave me a reason to get up from the desk, so I’d say it’s a win.”

We spoke for a few more minutes until a very large, bulky man popped his head in looking for her. His black t-shirt clung to him tightly and his shorts were a hideous neon pink color. He did have a nice smile, one that took up most of his face and teeth so white they looked fake. Giselle introduced me very quickly, and the man, Sam, turned out to be one of the personal trainers on staff.

“You’re the Olympian, right?” Sam asked. Jimin must really like people who talked a lot, because I had never met more outgoing people in my life before moving here. Everyone he surrounded himself with was just full of energy, and I wondered if it was purposeful. Jimin himself was a rather quiet and sad person. “Jimin talks about you all the time.”

I laughed awkwardly, face heating, “That’s me.”

“Sick,” Suddenly an image of Sam surfing in California flashed through my mind. He just seemed like the type. “Well, I have to go and help out a client, but it was nice meeting you. Gigi, can you go back up front before Drew pitches a fit?”

Giselle sighed heavily, “Tell her I’m coming,” Looking at me she asked if I was okay on my own. “Come and get me if you need anything, okay?”

After assuring her that I was fine, Giselle left behind Sam. The two of them bickered like an old married couple, and I wondered about their relationship. He did call her a little nickname. I shook my head. Regardless, I had other things I needed to take care of before I could get lost in thought about two strangers.

Unpacking my duffle, I threw on my whistle and stopwatch before getting to work on my schedule. I had brought a lot of my personal swimming gear with me like training bands, coach communicator, and forearm fulcrum. Back in the day, I was the brand ambassador for Finis, so I had a lot of their products. The tracksuit I was wearing was from Speedo, and I had so much of their stuff for the same reason. Being a famous swimmer had its perks.

I had planned on doing a lot of drill and some short-burst efforts with Jimin. He had been without a PT for a few weeks now, and while I trusted him to stay in shape, it was no secret someone would be performing less on their own than with guidance. I did not want to over work him when he was, for all intents and purposes, been on a vacation. So, while I wanted to rush head-first into training, I would try to ease into things a bit before going full asshole on the kid. Like Victor would say, “Three times a week for three weeks.” After that, he was going to be at my mercy.

It was just past 6 when Jimin walked into the pool room. I was flipping through my training plan for the day and humming along to the music blasting through the speakers, echoing off the walls. Whoever was in charge of the playlist had a thing for the early 2000s.

“Morning,” His soft voice brought a smile to my face. He sounded tired. “What do you think about the place?”

Stealing a look at him, I had to hold back the gasp that I wanted to let out. He was wearing a black tank top and shorts giving me a great look at his skin. Embarrassed by my reaction, I internally scolded myself. I needed to get over this crush already. I was about to see a lot more of his body once he went to the back to change. I bit my lip. I had no idea how I was going to deal with him in a speedo.

“It’s very nice,” I was happy with how nonchalant I sounded. “Wasn’t expecting it to be so big.”

I wonder what else is big… I nibbled on the inside of my cheek. I really needed to get my mind out of the gutter. Scratch that- I should have dealt with this problem the second I realized it was there. I was going to force myself to call Hoseok today. He would know what to do, and if not, at least I could vent a little.

“Sleep okay?”

I jumped out of my ever-degrading thoughts.

“Yeah,” I sniffed. “Had fun with your mom? I wanted to give you two some space, so I stayed to myself.”

He smiled and I melted. Yeah, this needed to stop. I was too grown to be acting like this around a man.

“I appreciate it. We missed you at dinner, though. My dad kept complaining that things were quiet now.”

I chuckled, “Eloise and the kids not loud enough?”

He shook his head, “She didn’t come over.”

He tossed his sports bag next to mine and pulled out his swim gear. I caught a flash of his speedo and quickly looked away. The visuals going through my mind were distracting enough.

“Do you want to go over everything before I get changed?” Asked Jimin.

I shook my head, “No, go ahead. It’s going to be a chill day.”

“You got it, coach.”

I did not breathe until I heard the locker room door slam shut. Tossing my clipboard onto my bag, I roughly rubbed my face. I needed to pull myself together.

My attraction was easy to ignore and forget about when he was not in my face, but the second I got my eyes on him it was all I could focus on. I was awkward and fumbling all over the place whenever he was around. I focused on him far too much, far more than I should be due to our relationship, and it was driving me insane. I needed to take a breather, but I did not have enough time and I did not want to make him worried. Jimin seemed like the type of person who would become consumed by anxiety if he thought I was upset with him in any way. No, I would have to suck it up and get through this training session like an adult.

The locker room door opened. Jimin’s bare feet were loud against the gray, stone floor. I refused to look at him. I wasn’t ready yet. Bending over, I grabbed the clipboard and cleared my throat. I was hoping to get him in the water first, and then I could safely conduct myself in a professional way. The less skin I had to see at a time the better. I pointed at the pool.

“Like I said, it’s going to be an easy day,” He was walking away from me, and I felt the tightness in my chest lighten. “You’ve been without a trainer for a bit, and I’m not sure how intense your workouts have been since. Your warmup is just 10 minutes of easy swimming, and then we’ll go over our main set.”

I heard him get into the water with a splash and relaxed. I could handle him in the water. No one looked good with those stupid goggles on. I walked to the edge of the pool, clipboard in my hand, and stole a quick look.

As suspected, he did not look as potent like this. His hair was hidden beneath a red and white cap, and blue goggles obstructed most of his face. It was impossible to make out most of his body as he glided through the water, but I got a great look at his arms. He was more muscular than I gave him credit for. He was smaller and more lean than other swimmers, but I could see why he was able to dominate.

He was very fast, but I could already tell he was pushing harder than I wanted him to. Blowing my whistle, I let him know I only wanted him swimming at 80% effort. Jimin pulled a face and lifted his goggles up. Now that he was stagnant, I got a clear look at his chest and swallowed thickly. He needed to start moving or else I might have a heart attack.

“Why?” He was incredulous.

“Like I said, I don’t want you to overwork yourself. You’ve been on a vacation for four weeks now and we need to work our way back up to more intensive sets. It’ll only be for a couple of weeks.”

He pushed back again, “I’ve been coming here every day for hours. I think I’m fine.”

I shook my head, “I’m not trying to be a dick, and I’m not calling you a liar, but I am skeptical of the quality of the training.”

“But-”

“I haven’t been here to see your routine,” I cut him off before whatever smart ass comment he was planning to say could even come out. Jimin’s annoyance was plain as day, and I was not about to put up with a tantrum. “I’m known for being a hard ass, and I’m going to push you harder than you’ve ever been pushed before. You can ask Coach Bunch about me if you want. I will make sure you’re in the best shape of your life this year, but not at the expense of getting you injured.”

He took a deep breath before responding, “With all due respect, I’ve been putting in a lot of work by myself. I don’t think I need kid gloves.”

I smirked, cocking my head to the side. “Is that what you think this is?”

“Isn’t it?” He shrugged, pouting.

He was cute when he was mad.

“Humor me,” I replied. “We do things my way for the week and if I think you’re good to go by Friday then we’ll get back to normal training. How does that sound?”

Jimin thought for a moment before smiling at me.

“I can live with that.”

I chuckled, “Good to know. Now, put your goggles back on and finish your warmup. We’re wasting time arguing.”

As I suspected, once we started our drills, he did not perform up to the standards I had for him. Even at 75% what he was capable of, I could already see the areas he needed to work on. His butterflies were beautiful, but I could pick apart his breast and back strokes. I was happy with his free swim at the end, and I was going to start there the next session. I was hoping by starting off with compliments that we could become more comfortable with one another before I had to get serious. Those breast strokes would drive me insane until he could execute them perfectly every time.

“How am I doing?” Jimin asked during a cool down, doing a few laps before we started our drills again. “I know my breast strokes aren’t that great. I’ve always struggled with them.”

At least he was self-aware, I thought.

“We definitely have stuff to work on,” I replied. “Don’t worry too much about that right now. We can start talking about it more next week.”

He sighed, annoyed, and I laughed. He was very grumpy when it came to his swimming. Not wanting to upset him again, I decided to give him something.

“I would like to watch you swim a bit more and make a plan before giving you my opinion. My coach used to do that with me, and I found it helpful.”

We trained until eight-thirty, and I looked over my notes while Jimin cooled down. We did not talk as much as I would have liked, but it was probably for the best. His body was distracting, and I did not think I was doing a very good job at hiding my reactions to him. He did not seem to notice, or he was simply sparing my feelings, either way he was happy to keep relatively quiet. We only talked about training while he was in the water, and I was grateful he was maintaining his professionalism.

“When will we be back again?” Jimin asked, his last few minutes running down on the timer. “You said Wednesday, right?”

I nodded absentmindedly, in my own little world as I flipped through my notes. I had more than I thought I would have, all of them having to do with fixing his form and how we could go about it. New exercises, grueling training days, and a few new tools that I was not sure he had ever used before, would mold him into a swimmer I would glow with pride over. Park had always been a talented man, but I wanted to see if we could reach for something more. Something bigger and better than he could have imagined. I wanted to make Matthew fucking Hamilton look like the incompetent bastard I knew him to be.

“We’re done for the day,” I sighed, clicking the alarm off. “Do you want me to come for your night swim?”

Jimin ripped the goggles off, rubbing his eyes and already going to release his cap. I bit down on the inside of my mouth. He was so pretty and soft, and the way his muscles flexed as he swam to the edge of the pool made my stomach flutter. I looked away before he hoisted himself out of the water. I did not need that image floating around in my already depraved head.

“You can come if you want,” He replied casually. “I’m mostly hitting the gym when I’m here in the evenings. I only take a dip for thirty minutes and leave.”

I hummed, fighting the urge to look at his body. I focused instead on my breathing and writing down what he had just said. I did not want to forget that. It might be useful for me in the future. If we could exercise together, it would give me an opportunity to guide him through some of my favorite tricks to help with swimming.

“Will someone else be with you?”

“Probably Jungkook and Darcy. They’re my usual gym buddies when Milo is working.”

“Darcy’s his girlfriend, right?” I wanted to see if my hunch from the other night was right.

“Yeah. They’ve been going out for a couple of years now. She’s alright. Not as shy as you.”

I snorted, “You think I’m shy?”

Then I made a critical mistake. Looking over at Jimin, I nearly choked on my own spit. His skin was perfectly smooth, not a blemish in sight, and cream-colored. His body was just as pretty as his face, smooth abs and a tiny waist that led to toned and thick thighs. The tiny scrap of red fabric covering his private area did not stop my eyes from glancing. I looked away before I started to stare.

Hoseok was going to have a field day with this.

“I know you are,” He teased, his voice so soft and sweet. I briefly wondered what he would sound like in bed. I fought desperately to rid myself of that imagery. This could not be happening right now. “You’re so shy you can’t even look at me right now.”

His cocky attitude should have annoyed me, but instead it only further fueled my lust. Every time I had seen this man, he gave me such tonal whiplash it was beginning to drive me insane. First it was this innocent little angel facade that quickly became sarcastic and witty when he decided he could play around without me getting angry. Then it was the whole sad puppy thing he had going on for the last week. Now here he was, practically naked and getting riled up over me telling him what to do, and puffing his chest with confidence I never thought he was capable of. It would have pissed me off if I did not find him ridiculously attractive.

“Go get dressed, Park,” My voice was clipped and too harsh. I winced and quickly worked to soften the blow. Getting defensive only made me look worse. “We can get breakfast if you’re not busy. My treat.”

“Sure, coach.”

When I heard the locker room close, I let out a deep sigh. My sexual frustration was getting in the way of my work, and I hated it. Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I sent Hoseok a text.

Me: I think I’m crushing on Park

Me: Help me get rid of it

The reply did not come until I was done packing up my things. The workout stuff I had brought with me had been useless today, but I was afraid of forgetting where they were the next time I might need them, so they never left the bag. My phone vibrated just as I was done zipping up my bag. I could hear the shower in the locker room and clenched my thighs together. I was still thinking of how pretty his belly was, the tattoo on his ribs pitch-black against his pale skin, and how solid his calves looked. I unlocked my phone and nearly cried laughing when I saw the response.

Hobi: HAHAHAHA

Hobi: Sex is always the answer

Hobi: Never thought I’d see the day you became a cougar

I have no idea why I thought he would be any help. So, I licked my wounds and messaged Andy (like I should have done in the first place) and knew whatever she had to say would be far more helpful than my stupid best friend’s word of “advice.” I just had to hope it would be enough to make all of these feelings stop.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

Once again I thank you all so much for supporting me during the Kirby OC Tournament. Especially all my followers & mutual who humored me with all the poll reblog stuff.

As promised the lore. (And I've been cooking this turkey for a while and it's ready to come out of the oven.)

Fair Warning contains spoilers... I will not be explaining all the details of what happening. This is incredibly vague & via musical... so I won't spoil that much (since this does take place during the final arc... Void Termina Saga). The events that are being shown do not happen exactly how they are portrayed, however the essence of what's happening is the same.

Morgan shall be singing "Last Midnight from Into the Woods,"

Spoiler warning, (More drawn content is contained below)

(OH NO WHAT'S HAPPENING TO KIRBY...Sorry, I can't explain it just yet... Nor why Meta Knight's mask is broken in half... maybe he got into a fight or something, hold the phone I thought Galacta was trapped in insanity... what happened... Sorry if I tell anything of that it'll spoil the good stuff)

Dame Morgan: It's the Last Midnight

So in summary: After they refuse to hand Kirby over, Morgan reveals there's a traitor in their midst... Fumu is the reason why Kirby is in the state he is in (Fumu is currently regretting her life choices). Leaving Meta & Gala shocked, and scared to death at Kirby's current state, while Kirby is sad, and betrayed again...~

And Morgan just having herself a time, living her best life~

In the KBASW series, she tricks three major characters:

Namely: Queen Ripple, Hyness, and Fumu/Tiff. (the most devastating one she tricks)

Dame Morgan is basically a mixture of: "The Witch" from Into the Woods, Morgan from (Merlin's 2008 TV series), Eris from Sinbad (she has the voice of Eris), and the Joker from Batman.

Morgan represents the opposite of Celestine... (via Morgan vs. Merlyn wizard rivalry) The Anti-Celestine so to speak~

The one person she hates more than Arthur is Merlyn/Celestine.

Celestine sees magic as a tool, not a solution or the answer to your problem... promoting true self-improvement comes from within. For there will always be...: another bridge to cross, another monster to slay, another woods to go into. The only way to ever truly be prepared in this world is to learn from each other... and to be kind to one another & share the experience. If you cheat your way throw life will just get harder and move with you... Being better and leading a good example will inspire others to be better along with you.

The change starts within, with us...

While Dame Morgan:

Life is unfair, you play by their rules, you follow the system, sacrifice everything to fit the mold, and yet you can still be cheated out of what you deserve...

And you're telling me I should just "hang in there," "hold on", "it's gonna be okay eventually keep smiling".... nah? Let's stop "pretending to be good", everybody is just in it for themselves so... if you do that you're just a fool waiting to be tricked.

Why not live just for yourself... why not cheat back... why not be the bad guy? That's why her theme is "Stella Jang(스텔라장) _ Villain(빌런)

Morgan represents the easy way out, a quick fix... to blame someone else...an escape. How did she obtain this dark magic... The Jamba Heart...Granting everyone's selfish desires... the reason why everyone falls for it is because she has the charisma to make the offer far too tempting and to pass it up, no.

And guess who was her first customer... Hyness~

The biggest change I probably did the to mix anime & game lore. (Kirby Star Allies) In KBASW AU... Morgan the one who convinced Hyness the Jamba Heart was what he needed to restore his clan. It's the reason she's able to stay hidden for a long while...Allowing the negative to naturally corrupt him and use him as a figurehead...

Despite giving him the Jamaba Heart... she did not tell him exactly how to break the seal on Termina... (Whoops she must have forgotten, how clumsy of her...) Purposely having him fail~

However, the secret to this lies with... FUMU!? Due to the reincarnation of the first ruler of Dreamland... she holds the key to unsealing & controlling Void Termina... She throws them to the wrong person. She's very much tricked into thinking she's helping "Kirby," but... yeah this happens instead.

And of course, there's always a price... though once you do realize you've been bamboozled, she'll remind you that she gave you a choice... Ultimately making you realize it's your own fault at the end of the day. Very much rubbing your head in the mess you've made for yourself. (which is exactly what she's doing to Tiff/Fumu right now.)

In summary, she pretty much invites you to be your worst self; she's the villain but deliciously so! :3

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter five : lunar interlude : just a man (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.0k

summary : a look into din's point of view

warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy, masturbation

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Absurd.

It’s absurd how much the job pays. Din’s not even sure he should take it at this point because it’s too good to be true. But they promised monthly payments up front and he needed a new ship, and with what this gig pays, within the year he could buy a fleet. He could do this for a few years and be set for life. 

So he catches a ship to Naboo.

And he meets with a rather obnoxious prince who loves the novelty of having a Mandalorian working for him. It’s a good thing the job’s seemingly so easy because Prince Harand is off putting enough to make him reconsider. It’s simple, act as a personal guard to his wife. In exchange he’ll receive more credits than he’ll know what to do with and a private place to reside in. All he has to do is keep her from harm and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble. 

“Is she prone to getting into trouble?” Din doesn’t try to hide the distaste in his voice at how high-and-mighty the man is acting.

“You expect me to know that?”

Pig. 

After he accepts he’s given direct permission to disregard any of her orders that would prevent him from doing his job. 

He declines the invitation to attend the wedding, to say he’s indifferent to the whole affair would be an understatement. He isn’t in any hurry to meet the woman who agreed to marry that. So Prince Harand gives him a note, he doesn’t bother reading it, he just tosses it on the vanity and he waits alone in what he is told are your chambers. 

Weddings take a while. 

So he can’t help but be curious, after all did his employer expect him to just stand in the same spot all day? So he snoops, he’s allowed to be nosy, it might help him do a better job if he can get a grasp on who you are. He spends the next two hours inspecting the room from top to bottom and much to his annoyance he learns nothing. There isn’t a single personal item here. All the clothes are seemingly unworn, there’s no clutter, nothing. If anything he feels like he knows even less about you. Shit, does he even know your name? Had the prince mentioned it? Maker, did the prince even know the name of the woman he was marrying? What a clown. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, she’s royalty and he’s the help, she probably won’t even address him. So he waits for several hours. He just stands there, eventually he considers just leaving and reporting for duty tomorrow but he can hear voices in the hall now so he stands up a bit straighter, then the door creaks open and Kodo drunkenly peers in before slamming it shut again.

Idiot. 

Is that laughter? 

He doesn’t get any time to wonder what that was about because a Twi’lek opens the door and then you walk in. And he’s frozen in place. Your eyes are on him and the room is suddenly dreadfully hot. It’s like you're under some sort of spell that pulls you towards him and he can’t breathe. Why would they put such garish makeup on such a beautiful face?

He should say something. He needs to say something. Introduce yourself you dimwit. 

He opens his mouth but before he can utter a sound you touch him. It feels like his heart has stopped. He can see you speaking but he doesn’t hear a thing, captivated by the way your mouth moves when you talk, your tongue poking out slightly to wet your lips as you graze his chest plate with your fingertips.

It’s enough to make a man want to abandon his creed and take you right there. 

This must be some kind of punishment for all of the terrible things he’s done. The gods are punishing him with this paragon of a woman that he is doomed to spend his days with but he can never have. The ringing in his ears finally clears up and he hears the first words he can actually get a grasp on that come through your perfect mouth. 

“Is this some sort of weird fetish of his?” 

Well. The ringing is back in his ears. He thinks he might just have to die in this position at this point cause it’s definitely too late to speak up, he waited too long, what the hell is the matter with him? He’s a fucking bounty hunter for gods sake, he’s fought beasts of all shapes and sizes and suddenly he’s been conquered by some woman he doesn’t even know?

Your small hand grabs the edge of the helmet and he’s finally able to snap out of it when you go to remove it. On instinct he manages to catch both your wrists in one hand. 

“Don’t.” Thank the gods the modulator covers up the way his voice cracks. You’re scolding him, you’ve poked a finger into his chest plate but he’s having a hard time paying attention because he can’t seem to take his eyes off of the way your face flushes red, and then your neck, and then your chest. 

How low does the crimson tint go?

For Makers sake snap out of it man, you’re one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy not a school boy with a crush. 

You’re staring at the Twi’lek, scowling. He has to silence his helmet to hide the laughter that bursts out as you actually manage to get him to leave just by eyeballing him.

He manages to get through the conversation with you without tearing your clothes off, although there is a close call when you hike up your skirt to remove an anklet and like some sort of repressed Victorian woman, he sees just a glimpse of your ankle and can feel blood rushing south. 

For god’s sake. At that point he just closes his eyes because this situation cannot get any worse, and then he can hear your dress hit the floor and he has never had to work so hard to keep his eyes shut. 

“...I want to hear it from you.” 

“My job is to make sure you are not harmed.” Can you hear the strain in his voice as he wills himself not to get hard? Gods he hopes not. He needs to get out of this situation fast, he’s getting ready to dismiss himself and find Kodo and tell him to take the money back, that he can’t do this but you say something that stops him dead in his tracks.

“Actually I’m good.”

He can’t stop the exasperation in his voice.

“Excuse me?” 

“Can you not hear through the helmet? I’m good. I’ve already got an ensemble of people trailing me. I don’t need another.”

You can’t be serious. 

“You’re dismissed.” 

You are. 

People don’t typically talk to him like that. They’re always too afraid. But you aren’t, you don’t seem to be frightened by him in the slightest. He was going to leave, he wanted to leave, but it’s been a long time since someone challenged him like this. 

“You don’t have the authority to dismiss me.” He snaps back. 

He likes arguing with you. He doesn’t get to argue with people. Who wants to argue with a Mandalorian? Most people don’t want to get shot by a trained killer. 

You don’t appear to be most people.

He wants to rile you up, wants to see the fire in your eyes, he’d do just about anything to be the target of your anger. 

So he teases you, until he leaves, making sure to get the last word in. He sets up a few imperceptible motion sensors just under your door knob so he can make sure he’s alerted if you decide to make a run for it. 

And then he’s alone. So he goes to where he was told his lodging would be, it’s about a twenty minute walk but he doesn’t mind, it’s secluded, cozy. The cabin reminds him a bit of the crest, just big enough to be comfortable. 

He takes a cold shower and tries not to think about his boss's wife. 

✩

The next few weeks aren’t any easier. 

You seemingly can’t stand him and he decides it’s for the best. You should hate him, he deserves it since your husband is paying him outrageous amounts of money to follow you around all day and fantasize about all the ways he could make you hate him a little less. 

It’s hell.

Having to watch you day in and day out. Watch you wander around aimlessly, like a bird trapped in a cage. His least favorite days are when he has to attend dinners with you and your husband. The man is an ogre. And that’s why he can’t seem to leave. He thinks about it, often. Just packing up and catching the next ship off planet. But if he leaves, who's going to protect you from this creep? So he stays.

Eventually, he watches you less like it’s his job and more like it’s his religion. 

Things only get worse when one night he wakes up with a start, sitting up in bed as he hears the beeping from his gauntlet that signifies your door being opened. It’s the middle of the night. What if somebody got in? There’s no way, you have a state of the art locking system that only he and a few staff can get into, unless they have a code. What if it was just your husband? Why does that make him don his armor faster? He has no right to barge in there if it’s simply your spouse coming in to fulfill his marital duty, yet he’s in a dead sprint towards the castle the moment he’s dressed. He had fallen asleep in his flight suit with his helmet on anyway, it didn’t take him long and when he gets to your room he’s tense the moment he sees that the door is closed. Ever so slightly adjusting the audio on his helmet he discerns that the room is empty so he switches his vision so he can trail you and sure enough a set of footprints is going off in the familiar direction of the library. 

It was a relief. To know that no one had gotten in and you had simply left on your own accord but why would you be sneaking out to the library? You go to the library everyday, you should be sick of it. So he silently walks until he sees the faint light of a glowrod illuminating your face, a stack of books clutched in your arms. And he’s about to say something, you’re only a few feet ahead of him but when you turn you’re wearing such a thin nightgown, and the robe is hardly doing anything to cover you. Before he can react you’re rushing forward slamming into him. 

And now he’s facing the worst torture yet. 

Your robe fell off one of your shoulders as you dropped and now you’re sprawled out on the floor below him, your hair is down, messy from sleep, your slip of a nightgown riding up your thighs as you look up into the darkness at him. And then you fucking groaned. And all he can think about is how easy it would be to turn that fabric into confetti. 

Help her up jackass. 

He reaches down and of course you swat his hands away. You should hate him. 

He helps you back to your room and the moment he knows you aren’t going to try anything he rushes back in the direction of the library. He knows you're fuming, the least he can do is go get your books. But then he’s picking them up and looking at the titles he can’t believe how warm it is in the castle suddenly. He’s used to the heat. Wearing this many layers you build up a tolerance.

But now he’s looking at the stack of smutty romance novels you’d wanted so badly you’d snuck out to get them and he’s sweating. 

He makes it back to the cabin in half the time it usually takes him. He was in such a hurry he had completely forgotten about returning your books to you. He tosses them to the side and in an instant he’s practically throwing his armor to the ground, he only manages to get half of it off before he sprawls out on his bed, discarding his gloves haphazardly as he frees his cock from his trousers. His helmet bumping against the wall as he leans back and starts stroking himself, his palms are so clammy he doesn’t even bother spitting in his hand. 

It’s shameful how close he already is just at the sight of you on the floor like that. His hips stutter upwards into his fist as he imagines you on top of him, your thighs wrapped around his waist, hair disheveled, wearing that pretty little negligee. Maker, your skin always looks so soft, you’d feel so much better than his calloused hands. Were you gonna read those dirty books and touch yourself with those delicate little fingers of yours? 

It doesn’t take long after that before he reaches his hasty climax, cumming with a filthy groan of your name, shooting ropes up onto his stomach. 

He definitely deserves to have you hate him. 

He tries to not even look at you after that. Until one day when you’re in the library once again and it’s obvious to him that you’re pretending to read your book, your eyes dart up to glare at him every few seconds. 

You’re looking at him like bounties look at him once they’ve been caught and are plotting to attempt an escape, purely out of habit he chides you.

“Don’t”

And that’s all it takes. He actually manages to talk to you. Of course it’s easier once he imagines you as a particularly unruly bounty, to snap back at you. If you were a real bounty he’d have a hard time turning you in. 

You’d look nice in the cuffs. 

Don’t. Keep it in your pants you moron. 

He even offers to take you to the gardens, you deserve that at the very least, a few hours outside of this sweltering castle. 

Then he takes you back to your quarters and you look at him with those heart eyes and he feels like he’s going to pass out when you so eagerly make him promise to show you the gardens. 

It’s selfish. But he has to get in one last dig, he has to see that bloom of color on your skin one last time as he tells you that your book had been upside down. 

It all becomes so manageable. For a moment he thinks that the two of you might be able to handle this little antagonistic relationship that you’re beginning to build. It would be nice, to have you keeping him in check, to have reminders that you dislike him. 

But he had to go and ruin it all.

It all went wrong so fast it made his head spin. 

It all started when you were in that damned dress. You’d been the most stunning woman he’d ever seen even in the campy, over the top makeup, and the flashy unattractive dresses. But now here you were in that yellow gown and it was like he was seeing you clearly for the first time. There weren’t any flashy accessories to distract him from your face. That flawless face. 

So he was already a little off his game at that point.

And then he slipped up. He couldn’t help it, not when you were standing next to him, dressed like that. He called you little flower. That had been something just for him and like the blundering fool that he was in your presence he blurted it out without thinking. He could feel that familiar paralysis, he hated the effect you had on him. Thank the gods he had done it in Mando’a. 

But you’re you so of course you don’t drop it. And then you make it worse because you touch him. 

And then he makes things worse because he lashes out.

Then he thinks you’re hurt and he makes an ass of himself.

And lashes out again. He’s not even that mad about the droid comment he’s just overwhelmed, he’s never been this overwhelmed and this stupid fucking planet is so hot.

It keeps getting worse, he can’t shut the fuck up and finally you tell him to leave and he can’t because he wants to stay, he wants to stay and scream at you because he can’t stand how much he needs you it makes him physically ill how you haunt him day and night.

So he says no.

And the look on your face is enough to make him want to swear a new creed to make sure you never look so betrayed ever again. 

After that you should hate him. He’s glad you hate him. He’s glad you’re giving him the silent treatment, he deserves much worse. 

The first day all he can think about is apologizing. You sit in that little nook, back in your blue dresses, looking furious. He just doesn’t know what to say that won’t make this worse. 

The second day all he can think about is how he could make it up to you. He’s got a couple of ideas of things that might wipe that frown off your face. He’s obviously not going to just abandon his creed but you definitely don’t make it easy, there’s a million different things that he wants to do to you that would be rather difficult if he can’t use his mouth.

He doesn’t make any real progress on day two either and later that night ends up with his face buried in his pillow, fucking his fist. 

The third day he’s actually kind of pissed. If you two have something in common it’s how stubborn you can be and suddenly he’s mad at you, for no real reason, he supposes he’s just sick of feeling sorry. 

And then there’s that dinner. 

He wants to kill that ignorant, snooty, little man more than he’s ever wanted to kill a person. He wants to make it last, it’s been a long time since he’s killed something, he would enjoy killing Kodo.

But all that rage goes away when he catches a glimpse of your expression and it’s replaced with fear. He’s never seen you look so small and suddenly he’s terrified that you’ve lost that fire. He’ll go back and massacre Kodo right now if he truly did extinguish your flame. 

So he breaks the silence. And asks if you're okay. 

And he’s relieved when you ramble on, even though he wishes so desperately he could wipe your tears away. Of course you’d be harder than that to put out. His light is okay, and that's all that matters. 

So he leaves you your book. 

He had gotten bored and read one of them. The Smitten Paladin. It was racy but it’s what she had gone to get in the first place so why not. But that isn’t enough. Not after what you just went through, so he opens the cover and leaves his favorite color, green, written inside, it’s the least he can do. 

✩

He goes into the next day with the intention of apologizing. Not entirely sure what for. 

Sorry your husband is a scumbag. You should leave him for me. 

Doesn’t exactly have a ring to it. 

Before he can think of what to say you come out of your room and he’s thankful for the helmet because his jaw would be on the floor. 

Maker, did you wear that just for him?

The green dress clings to the outline of your torso and it feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Actually, he’s been punched in the gut plenty of times and this is worse because your hair is down and it’s all he can do to not tangle his fingers in it and drag you back into your room. What kind of game are you trying to play with him? Dressing in that color, making yourself irresistible, what the hell is your angle? He’s cautious and slow when he greets you. He remains on edge all the way to the library.

And then you take out the fucking book. 

You can’t be serious. 

This can’t be happening. 

You can’t just do this.

You can’t just sit there in that dress. With your hair falling so exquisitely across your face, begging to be brushed behind your ear, reading porn directly in front of him.

If you’re trying to punish him it’s working. This is torture. If you used this method to interrogate him for information he would have folded immediately. He sits there for hours, sweating his ass off as you perch in that little nook of yours, it would be so easy for him to just bend you over it and lift up the skirt of that lovely little gown. Is that what you want? He’s getting dizzy. Why else would you do this and then read a fucking erotic novel in front of him? Is this some kind of test? 

Then you look at him. It’s easy to forget since he’s always wearing a helmet that you don’t know when he’s staring right at you. You glance up at him through your eyelashes and you don’t look away. He’s so hard he’s pretty sure he’s about to burst through the front of his pants. What is your goal here? Your face is turning that delicious shade of red and you haven’t so much as looked at the pages in front of you for minutes at this point.

If this is some game of chicken he isn’t going to lose. No matter how badly he wants it, he won’t lay a hand on you unless you ask him for it. Did you just squeeze your thighs together?

For god's sake, ask for it. Ask for anything he’ll fucking do it.

He can’t take it anymore. So he speaks, teases you. It’s innocent enough. 

Keep it innocent. 

So you go back and forth and it’s safe. For a moment. He manages to adjust himself in the chair so it hopefully isn’t too obvious that he’s pitching a tent severe enough to camp under. And then he can’t stop himself from asking how the book is and before he knows it you’re asking if he had to take a vow of celibacy. 

This isn’t okay.

And then you ask if he can take the armor off. 

For Makers sake you’re married.

He needs to ask about something else. Anything else.

“The book, what’s it about?” 

Yeah, let's talk about the porn again. Dumbass. 

And then you say the words that make him want to just abandon his post and quit. Get as far away from this planet as possible.

“I wasn’t really stuck on anything… I suppose I was just trying to figure out how he fits it all in there?”

Fuck. Does she know? Is she trying to be coy?

You can’t know. He hadn’t seen your eyes dart between his legs. This can’t be happening, this is so bad. Kodo would have him killed for this. So he plays his last card, that he read the book. And thankfully it actually works, you’re so distracted by the fact that he read your book that he manages to get you out of the library and back to your chambers. 

He can’t get back to his cabin fast enough.

Cold shower. Bed. That’s the order of events. Nothing else. 

But he can’t get away from you. It’s worse when he sleeps because in his dreams you are so much less confusing. 

In his dreams you join him in that cold shower and you warm him up in several different ways (and several different positions) and he can take off his helmet and look at you unfiltered. You're the leading lady of all of his dreams, since the day he met you he has never had a break from you. 

That isn’t always a good thing because he wakes up from those dreams he has to go see the real you. The one that hates him. As you should.

✩

It was already a rough morning, there is nothing as humbling as waking up to find you’ve cum in your pants like some pent up teenager. 

The morning only gets rougher when he goes to retrieve you and you aren’t there.

Fuck.

What’s the protocol for this sort of thing? He doesn’t even bother trying to figure that out because his hand is already on his blaster and he’s throwing doors open. This isn’t the time to panic, he needs to pull himself together.

And then he throws open the right door and you’re sitting there in the tub with your hand shoved between your legs, your head tilted back ever so slightly with your eyes shut tight. You’re his dream come to life and simultaneously his worst nightmare. He wants to look away. He needs to look away but he’s a goner the moment he sees your soapy chest. 

This has to be a record breakingly bad morning. 

And yet by some miracle he fixes it. Or rather, the garden fixes it. You couldn’t pay him to look away from your face. He wants you to look like this all the time, beaming, curious, truly happy. And he can’t help himself, he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s greedy and he wants to know more about you, wants to hear your voice. So he suggests the game and Maker, you play it. 

Gods, he’s weak. Why do you make him so weak?

The moment you ask for a question if you win he knows what you’ll ask. He hadn’t planned on letting you win, but you looked so content, he could just tell you but he passes on the last question. He wants you to know what it means. 

It’s selfish to ask for anything else, he shouldn’t be rewarded for this kind of behavior, but he does it anyway, and he asks for more. He asks for more days, just the two of you, and you say yes. 

And when you ask what sarad'ika means he’s sure this is where he gets what he deserves, this is where you’ll spit in his face, call him a creep, and tell him to leave. But you don’t. Instead you politely say good night to him. 

This can’t be real. There’s just no way. But there you are, each morning, in your much simpler gowns that suit you so perfectly, and you ask him to read because you don’t want him to be bored and how could he possibly say no to you. You could ask him for the moons and he’d find a way to give them to you.

But it has to end eventually. 

And it does on the fifth cycle as reality crashes in and he has to escort you to dinner with your husband. 

She’s married.

✩

It keeps getting worse. He’s asked to leave. He can’t. He can’t just leave you in a room full of drunk men, especially these drunk men. Especially that drunk man. His mind is racing at light speed but he can’t think of a single argument for why he should stay. 

And then you look at him with those pleading eyes and his heart starts pounding out of his chest.

Maybe he could take on six battle droids.

But he doesn’t, of course. Because what if you got caught in the crossfire. You hadn’t produced an heir, you were still expendable to Prince Harand. And he has to leave you alone with him. 

It’s the longest two hours of his life. 

He wants to tune it out, to turn off any exterior sound on the helmet but he can’t because what if something happened to you? So he listens to every word.

He’s never felt so small. 

It’s a pitiful feeling. To go through your entire life being used to doing things a certain way to protect the ones you care for. And then when it comes down to the person that means the most to you you can’t do a thing.

For a man who has solved nearly all of his problems in life with a blaster, to suddenly be unable to do so? It’s pathetic. 

They could punish her if I intervene.

They could kill her. 

They could kill me.

Lock me up.

Who would protect her then? 

Maker, he hasn’t felt this crushing sensation in his chest since he had to say goodbye to the kid. He can’t breathe. 

He’s supposed to be the strong one.

Yet he has been conquered by a fucking door. 

He doesn’t even realize you're out. Or that you’ve kicked him. Or that you’re suddenly sitting between his legs. He’s too far gone. It isn’t until he feels his helmet adjust that he snaps out of it. 

Because you’re real. And you’re okay.

No thanks to him.

And he can’t stop the words that pour out of his mouth. Never in his life has he been reduced to this, afraid like this. You should be disgusted. That the Mandalorian sworn to protect you had been diminished to this. Just a man.

But you aren’t. You’re warm, and gentle, and soft, and real. 

He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you.

So he stands. And he helps you up.

He needs you to hate him again. It’s the only thing that keeps him grounded. 

So he escorts you to your chambers, and you turn to him and say those five damning words. 

“Do you wanna come in?” 

He’s weak. And he’s selfish. Don’t do this Mando.

But he isn’t a Mandalorian right now. He’s just a man. 

With you he's just Din.

So he nods.

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