#will you get smut next or angst who knows

[peachysunrize]

Labyrinth ⥃ Aemond Targaryen

Summary: falling in love is easy for most people, but not for Aemond Targaryen. How can a broken cold-hearted man be able to love the most gentle human Westeros has ever seen?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, very very gentle, angst angst angst angst!!!, humiliation, reader is Daemon & Laena’s oldest daughter, no description for reader (besides white hair) you can imagine her however you like, Aemond is a vulnerable & insecure baby girl, like he is really really insecure, mentions of murder, fluff, nightmares, chronic pain, mentions of Aemond’s injury, anxiety attack, babes are in looooove, English isn’t my first language<3 it’s very heavily plotted and the smut is at the end of the story.

Word count: 11.5k (she's so long but worth it)

a/n: I’ve always wanted to write something with this kind of trope, especially when it’s from the man’s pov, and there’re so little fics that get into the depths of Aemond’s pain and suffering so I needed to try and write something that says his part of the story as well! Please please tell me your opinions and favorite lines of this piece! I’ve worked sooo hard for this fic and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Reblogs and comments are appreciated<3🩷

A very special thank you to my babies, @namelesslosers & @neptuneiris for beta-ing and supporting my ideas😭🫂✨

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?”

Aemond watches the scene unfold in front of him; his mother seeking justice for him, slashing Rhaenyra’s forearm with the dagger in her hand, spilling her blood in fury.

He looks around the room, finding you scared behind your grandfather, looking at him with wide teary eyes. He scowls when he sees how you look at him with pity, thinking he is a deformed monster in your eyes, to his best friend’s eyes.

You leave the hall in a rush, and he scoffs at how unbearable he must look for you to go in such haste, allowing this injustice to wreck his world and him to cope with the aftermath alone. How could you leave him like that? What happened to all the hours he helped you build that stupid sandcastle next to where Vhagar lays? Did you forget every moment, every laughter you had together?

He stands up and walks to his mother, telling her that Vhagar is worth it. But is it true? It might be worth gaining the largest dragon alive, but in the back of his mind, he thinks about how he has lost you.

No, you left him, he hasn’t done anything wrong. He is the one with his eye in a tray, he is the one who needs tending to for the first time, and you left him while he and his mother were humiliated by Rhaenyra and her bastards.

The morning comes sooner than expected, the milk of the poppy knocked him out immediately last night. He walks down the stairs where his family is gathering to leave, his mother holding Helaena’s hand while god knows where his father is, probably saying his goodbyes to his daughter and Princess Rhaenys. 

Aemond moves toward the hill that Vhagar is sleeping on, catching the sight of you waiting for him next to the sandcastles he helped you build yesterday after your mother’s funeral.

“What do you want?” he asks, standing in front of you, trying not to frown too much to loosen his stitches.

“I-I wanted to ask how you were doing…”

“After leaving me all alone? You were my friend! I needed you and you left me! And you ask how I am after I got my eye cut out?” He shouts at you, waking up Vhagar from her drowsy nap.

“I-I don’t have any excuses, but Aemond, please—” “No, I hate you! I hate your stupid hair, your eyes, your laugh, even-even your sandcastles! They are so childish and-and ugly!” “I know you are upset with me, and I’m so sorry for what happened to you, but please let me—” “No!” he yells at you again, marching toward the castle next to your feet before he stomps all over it, screaming and crying while he ruins the perfect sculpture he himself has made for you.

“Aemond…” the sob that wrecks through you makes him stop, but you are not looking at his feet, you are looking at his face, crying for him. He doesn’t spare a glance at you when he walks to climb Vhagar’s saddle, but guilt overwhelms his emotions and dread fills him.

You just wanted to talk, and he treated you so poorly even if his anger was justified.

Oblivious to him, as soon as he and his family were gone, you ran to your grandmother, crying in her arms and begging her to allow you to study with Maesters, in hopes that someday you may help your childhood friend with the pain he will carry for the rest of his life.

•••••••••••

Jacaerys’ name day, another pathetic excuse to have his sister and her pups in the capital under the same roof, drinking and wasting the crown’s money. He can’t blame them though, they’re desperate to get on the lords’ good sides by showing off their heritage, going with songs and praises for the heir after his mother.

Unnecessary, stupid… 

Aemond groans, running his hand over his face as he wakes up with the sounds of banging in the hallway. He knows that they’re arriving today, and he’s aware that the royal chambers should be ready when his sister makes a face, but to wake him up at such an early hour after the rough night he had should have severe consequences.

With another deep groan, he sits up on his bed, looking at the sea from between the sheer curtains of his room, watching the sunlight shine bright on the surface of the water, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre already taking turns in the sky over the city.

He stands up, looking down at the soaked undershirt he had on during sleep, exhaling deeply as he pulls the fabric off, slamming it down on the couch as he walks to the balcony to get some fresh air. The morning breeze hits his sweat-covered chest, stinging the empty socket of his eye.

He knows he should go back inside, to cover his scar and avoid pain from the cold wind, but the contrast of the coldness of it on his heated skin is soothing his mind, calming his beating heart. He will regret it during the day, but for now, after experiencing yet another nightmare, he needs to feel alive again.

As soon as the sharp pain starts from the depths of his skull, he moves back, shutting the door and pulling the curtains closed. He stands straight, his nails digging inside his palms as he controls, or tries to control his breathing. 

It always starts like this; a sting, then another one but sharper, then a minimal pain that surrounds his scar, and finally, the stabbing pain all over his face followed by the worst headache someone can ever endure.

He reaches for the nearest surface he can lean on, knuckles turning white as he keeps his weight up, trying not to fall on his knees just yet.

He can do it, he has done it countless times.

Aemond steadies himself on his feet before he sighs shakily, walking towards the clothes his mother’s servants laid down for him yesterday. It is a simple outfit; a leather tunic with black pants and a fresh beige undershirt. Nothing too fancy, and nothing less regal that a prince should wear.

He takes his time while getting ready, allowing the phantom pain of his eye to fade away slowly. Before he can button up his tunic, his chamber servants come running in, putting a bowl of water with a warm towel on the side desk while they prepare his breakfast. He covers the left side of his face with his hand so as to not scare them with the unbearable sight of the empty space in his face.

He watches them with a sleepy gaze as they clear the room, slamming the door behind them. Aemond sits in front of his mirror, taking the brush in his hand to untangle his unruly hair.

There are no thoughts in his head as he stares blankly at his reflection; he hates his scar with a passion that could set the realm on fire. There is no gentleness in his features, everything is sharp, angular, and rough. There is no trace left of the boy he was before his nephew took out his eye.

Doomed before he could even try to become someone worthy.

He ties his hair, revealing more of the healed wound and the dark empty socket on his face. Sometimes he gets stuck inside the labyrinth of his head, running and running until he reaches the middle, but it’s never enough. At the end of the maze, someone drops dead; whether he kills them or they kill him. There is no escape from these dreams, from these self-destructive thoughts that haunt him day and night.

He reaches for a box on the vanity, pulling out the sapphire gem before reaching for an ointment Maester has given him to help the gem fill his eye socket without pain.

He looks at himself again; he looks less like a brute, the gem adds to his beauty but in his mind, it’s not enough, it’ll never be. He sees his brothers, healthy and handsome, being subjected to women’s attention all the time, and sometimes he wishes desperately to be in their place, to be able to talk to a lady without frightening her. But he has learned that a maimed man is less worthy than a whore in Streets of Silk, so he exercises and trains daily to become worthy again, to live up to his Targaryen name. There are deep yet little scars adorning all over the skin of his hands and arms — a reminder of how he has become the man he is.

He eats his breakfast in silence, tension rising in his shoulders as the smoke of the candles on his desk reaches his eye. He drops his spoon on the table, blowing the candles out before he reaches for his eyepatch.

He has told everyone that there shouldn’t be any scented candles in his rooms, but as it seems no one ever pays attention to what he has to say, not even to help with the pain of his eye.

He stands up, knocking a few plates on the table to the floor, smearing fresh fruits on his carpet. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, but he can’t care less about anything other than the fact that he needs to join his family in the throne room — and he does after he grabs his dagger and secures it in his belt.

“Ser,” Aemond nods at his appointed guard, earning a ‘good morning, my prince’ from him. Aemond walks down the stairs with his head held high, scoffing at the servants who make a path for him hurriedly, trying to avoid being seen by him or see him.

The bustling of the castle is irritating; everyone is running from one corner to another and decorating the keep for their princess’ arrival. He is not annoyed that he has to reunite with his sister and nephews, but because he has to endure their presence for longer than necessary, to look them in the eye and act civil as if the pain he copes with already isn’t enough torment from them.

He nods at Ser Cole, who follows him into the crowded hall, eying everyone who is waiting for the Realm’s delight. Aegon and Helaena are standing side by side, his sister is clutching Aegon’s arm tightly as the crowd makes her feel small under its gaze. His mother looks at the throne silently, and he can see the hesitation in her eyes — how are they going to go through these weeks of celebration, they have no idea.

“Good morrow, Mother,” he whispers as he stands behind her, his eye softening at the small smile she gives him, “you look radiant this morning.”

“Hush you, sweet talker,” she chuckles lowly, rubbing his arms lovingly, “have you heard about the Velaryons’ arrival?”

“Lord Corlys is coming as well?” he asks, shifting on his feet nervously, his fingers tightening slightly on Alicent’s elbows, “I did not know…” “Neither did I, darling. They shall arrive at the same time as Rhaenyra, at least I know Daemon’s eldest will.”

“Driving on dragonback, obviously,” he mutters, sighing shakily. 

Alicent notices his hesitancy, she gently cups his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eyes, “Do not project your anger on her, she was but a child.”

“Yet she kept silent that night. She was supposed to be my friend,” he says, looking away from his mother, lowering his head in shame, beating himself for letting his emotions take hold of him.

“Give your courtesy and leave if you wish not to talk to her,” Alicent smiles sadly at Aemond, patting his cheek before they both look at the doors of the hall.

Something in his guts drops when he sees Rhaenyra entering, her family walking towards them, all smiling and laughing as if they aren’t going to experience the most dreadful weeks of their lives. 

“Your grace,” Rhaenyra says, trying to break the visible tension between the families. The crowd goes silent, and the only thing they can hear is the soft exhales of the people close to them, everyone waiting with bated breath to see what happens in a few seconds.

“Princess,” Alicent smiles, “welcome back to your home,” she replies politely, giving Daemon a half courtesy before she congratulates Jacaerys for his eight-and-ten name day.

“Aegon…”

Aemond looks away from his sister as she acknowledges them all, instead his eye finds Daemon’s who is staring back at him with a smirk on his face. Aemond’s gaze doesn’t waver, and Daemon chuckles at that, giving him a challenging look.

He looks back at Rhaenyra who says his name, giving him a forced smile before she turns around quickly and asks for the King.

“He is quite unwell, he shall join us in the evening,” Alicent explains, telling the maids to make haste and set the garden ready to start the celebrations; nothing too fancy for the noon, a tea gathering in the garden to reunite everyone, or at least to make sure the court has something to gossip about.

Aemond follows them slowly, taking time to observe each and every one of them. He can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles in his chest as his eye finds Lucerys Velaryon, laughing and looping his arm with Rhaena. He looks away immediately, lips forming into a sneer as he walks with his hands behind him, grinding his teeth while he thinks about how he was robbed of everything good because of that bastard, because of the hideous scar he gave him.

The garden is filled with new bushes; roses, lilacs, daisies, and surprisingly winter roses. The sight would have been quite beautiful if all this fuss wasn’t for his nephew. He walks away from the crowd, making his way toward his siblings who are trying to appeal content with the events. Helaena is in her own world, lifting a worm from the ground as she counts its feet. Aegon is gulping down his wine while he listens to Daeron telling him about whatever book he has read these past few days, or at least he seems like he is paying attention.

Aemond sighs, grabbing a goblet of wine himself to nurse on it as he tries to distract himself from the chilly wind that hits his face. Luckily the eyepatch covers his eye socket fully and doesn’t let the cold breeze hit his scar, but the tension in his bones has remained from the morning rush of pain he experienced earlier. It’d be best if he left this pointless gathering earlier anyway.

“How are you faring this beautiful morning, brother?” Aegon asks him, grinning sarcastically. Daeron groans in response, even though the question wasn’t meant for him. Everyone can tell he is fed up with Aegon’s constant teasing of Rhaenyra’s family coming back to Red Keep.  

“Well enough to know I will be leaving in a few minutes,” Aemond replies, sipping on his wine as he catches Luke stealing glances at him. Pathetic, he is too scared to even look at him properly, he is glad though, it gives him a sense of comfort to know the mark he has left on his face scares him enough to keep him away from him.

“Can’t do that! It’d be rude if you left without saying hi to our favorite Velaryons.” Aegon smirks, tipping his head back as he laughs at Aemond’s sneer.

“As much as I hate to say this, but the idiot is right; you can’t give them more reasons to resent us,” Daeron says, looking at his older brother with kind eyes, “besides, they are here anyway.” he points at the passageway leading to the garden, catching the sight of Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys walking side by side toward the crowd.

Aemond’s heart stops for a second when his good eye lays upon you, following your grandparents with a gentle smile grazing your lips. You are a sight to behold; silver hair falling around your shoulders like curtains of moonlight that shine bright like a diamond beneath the morning rays of sunshine. Your gown the bluest of blue that shows your devotion to your mother’s house, and your lips painted pink in the most alluring way… 

Aemond’s eye sees a sight his mind can not comprehend, too unreal and beautiful that makes him doubt if he is seeing you with his sapphire eye through the patch.

His face is blank, but his heart is beating so fast he can hear his pulse in his ears. His eye follows you, watching you bow before his mother and sister, looking away immediately to find your sisters already giddy to hug you. Rhaena is the first to run to you, wrapping her arms around you while Baela approaches you slowly, letting her twin have her moment with you.

He doesn’t move from his spot, he can’t move even if he wants to; he’s struck between shock and something he can’t pinpoint; he can only say for sure that he hopes it’s a rush of adrenaline of not seeing you for so long.

The only time he looks away from you is when Daeron pats his back and encourages him to join everyone to say hello and welcome your family to the Keep. He doesn’t need to say a word, just a nod at both Corlys and Rhaenys is enough, but when you turn around to greet him and his siblings, his breath gets stuck in his lungs. 

You look at him from beneath your lashes, beaming so radiantly at him that he almost forgets the pain in his eye or the pain he has caused you the last time he saw you. The world around him fades away, the noises become distance as his sky-blue eye finds yours easily, and he has to swallow sharply while he desperately tries to keep his face stoic and serious and not show you how he is panicking from inside, palms sweaty and lips drying while he gazes at you, his childhood friend who… suddenly the bubble around you breaks and he remembers how you abandoned him that night at Driftmark.

“My lady,” he says in a hushed tone, watching your reaction closely.

“My prince, it’s so good to see you again,” you grin at him, “I hope you are doing well.”

“As well as a half-blinded man can do,” averting his eye from you, he regrets the words he said immediately, flushing a bit in embarrassment, but when he looks back at you, your smile hasn’t left your face, if anything you look at him with empathy and much kindness that he has a hard time believing you are real; it’s been too long since anyone has looked at him with such sincerity.

“Darling,” Daemon steps closer to them, ruining the moment for Aemond to say something, anything to take back what he said earlier.

He watches your smile wavering a little when you look at your father, hands fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. He notices how you try to ignore your father and Rhaenyra as they approach you, a tense smile on his sister’s lips while she tightens her grip on her husband’s arm.

“We have missed you, the girls, and I,” Daemon says, reaching to caress your hair as gently as the Rogue prince can, “you did not visit us at Dragonstone.” “I don’t like it there, the castle unnerves me,” You reply softly, “I rather enjoy the silence of grandsire’s castle.” “You are a Targaryen, you should visit your ancestor’s sit,” Rhaenyra tries her best to persuade you to think about coming back with them, leaving your lovely grandparents alone.

“I’m a Velaryon just as much as I’m a Targaryen, but ‘tis not a matter we should discuss at such a joyous day, don’t you think, princess?” you say, and Aemond sees it in your eyes how desperately you wish for the conversation to end. Aemond watches his sister’s words falter, her confidence crumbling with each word that you utter. Your statement is not rude, not even filled with malicious intent, but the mention of your Mother’s side of the family makes the Targaryen couple uncomfortable.

“I would have loved to stay and talk with you, Father, but I’m afraid the journey on dragonback has left me starving. Please, excuse me,” you nod at them before walking past them to the corner where Aemond and his siblings were sitting minutes ago, reaching for a glass of wine to gulp down.

Aemond doesn’t spare a glance at the couple, following you closely so he can sit in silence and out of the sun, truly not wishing for another fit of agony that consumes his skull.

“You have grown, Aemond,” you sit beside him, turning your head to look at his side profile, “no longer the child who used to build sandcastles with me when I would visit the Keep.”

“Yes, no longer a child with friends. Spending years apart without any contact, surely you are not that surprised how I have turned out to be,” he scoffs at your words, frowning when he turns around and finds you chuckling gently, “Did I jest about something I’m not aware of?”

“No, no, I just remembered how we promised to never let anyone break us apart, but you were the first who did so; you stomped your feet on my sandcastles the morning after my Mother’s funeral. You are right though, no ravens were exchanged, but I do hope you’re still the sweet prince who helped me study.” your lips twist into a small smile.

You are not angry with him, how can you not be angry with him? You had spent hours after they freed your Mother’s soul into the sea to find the perfect place to build your sandcastles and he ruined them the morning he was about to leave.

Your teary eyes have haunted him from that moment to this day.

“I apologize, I did not wish to remind you of that night,”

“I’m reminded every time I look into a mirror, do not concern yourself.” his reply is curt as he gazes at you, your eyes full of sadness and sympathy for a man you no longer know. Or maybe you know him too much, he thinks.

“I look forward to spending time with you, my prince. I hope we can catch up on each other's lives.” “Perhaps we can,” he sounds unsure of himself, Getting to know you again while you have turned into a woman grown — the most beautiful woman he has ever seen at that — is going to be a challenge he does not know he welcomes or fears greatly.

•••••••••••

He leaves sooner than he should, hiding in his room with a warm towel on his face as he soothes the pain of his eye, the headache he had since morning finally fading away. There are so many thoughts lingering in his head, and ironically, they are all filled by you; your gown, bright smile, and gentle personality.

He groans, so frustrated that he has met you a few hours prior yet you have consumed his every thought. If he focuses hard enough, he can see the labyrinth of his nightmares, the hedges are covered in ivy, suffocating as they reach for air — he thinks of him as the hedge, and how easily he has let you wrap yourself around his thoughts this quickly.

Weak, he thinks to himself, he’s weak.

He sits up, dropping the towel in the bowl on his nightstand, breathing deeply as he looks around his dark room, spotting a lit candle on his desk in the corner.

Sometimes it baffles him how his room represents his inner self so openly; it’s not messy, no, but if you squint you can see the abandoned book in the foot of his chair, ink dripping from his pot on the carpet, the candle illuminating the trail of black paint on his desk. It seems as if his room is showing the ugly part of itself to his eye, and for a second he thinks about how he sees himself — an ugly monster with an unsightly scar.

Aemond leaves his room a few minutes after fixing his eyepatch and hair, walking to the king’s solar to join his family for dinner. He walks with his hands clasped together behind him, looking straight to avoid eye contact with anyone who sees him on his way up the stairs. He doesn't expect to see you of all people, heading out of your room to take the same path as him.

“Aemond!” You say his name with such enthusiasm that has his heart racing again, beaming at him as if you are excited to see him. How could you be this giddy to meet him? No one has expressed to be happy to spend time with him, let alone smile at him the way you do. Is this an act of modesty? It has to be, he thinks, or else it does not make sense at all.

“My lady,” he bows his head politely, “How come you are late for such an interesting gathering?”

You giggle a little, walking side by side with him, “I was spending some time with Helaena’s children. Oh, they are such sweet babes!”

“Indeed they are,” he replies quietly, watching you curiously as you round him to stand on his good side, “what are you doing, My Lady?”

“I did not realize I was on your blind side, Aemond, forgive me,” “There is nothing to forgive,” he sucks in a harsh breath, pondering over your response for the rest of the way til King’s solar. The silence is oddly comfortable even though he gets a bit nervous when you keep glancing at him. 

There’s an unusual warmth spreading through his chest, he can’t understand it — it can be his heart since it’s beating too hard and fast, or perhaps even his lungs! He can’t even breathe properly, but at the same time, he feels… right, much better than before. He blames you for the conflicted emotions, it’s all your doings, he is sure. Because whenever he looks at you, he feels as if his clothes are suffocating him, his ears ring while the world fades around him, and the center of his world becomes you.

Weak, worthless, he has just met you, yet all these years apart seem blurry to him, as if he has known you since the age of the Firstmen; so familiar and comforting, even though you left him alone the night he needed you the most.

The guards open the door to the solar, and Aemond follows you inside, his eye wandering all over the room, taking his surroundings in. His mother and Rhaenyra are sitting at the table, his nephews are standing on their mother’s side while Aegon is trying to listen to whatever lecture Otto is giving him.

He watches you walk to your sisters, wrapping your arms around Baela and Rhaena as they both start talking to you about the things they have done during the past years you’ve been Lord Corlys’ ward in Driftmark.

“You’re staring,” Daeron says out of nowhere, pulling Aemond out of his thoughts but he doesn’t look away, he keeps his eye trailing on you until you turn around and catch his eye as well, smiling broadly at him.

“I am merely observing,” he replies, but knows his brother is right. It’s only the first dinner but he can already feel his eye itching to be on you again.

“Whatever makes you happy,” Daeron shrugs, leading him to Aegon and Helaena to sit down.

He finds an empty seat next to him, thinking Daeron is the one who’d sit beside him, but when he sees it’s you who reaches for the chair, his heart leaps to his throat before he composes himself quickly, pulling it out like the prince he is.

You give a smile that is worth countless gold dragons, and for the second time today, he questions if the sapphire is a magical eye, because the world turns a bit brighter and less dull when he looks at you. He sits next to you, his eyebrows twisting into a deep frown when he sees Lucerys at the other side of the table engaged in a deep conversation with Rhaena, playing the role of the happy family quite well.

Everyone stands up when the guards bring in the King, everyone except for Helaena but neither she nor Aemond pays any attention to others. One is busy playing with her hairpin, and he is busy admiring your ethereal face as you kiss the king, your uncle’s cheek, thanking him for having you and your grandparents in his home after so many years. As soon as Viserys sits behind the table, you take your place next to him again, giving him a small smile before you turn your head to listen to what his father has to say. 

He knows what his father is about to say; first, he thanks them all for coming, paying special attention to his grandsons and Rhaenyra while he lies over and over again about how much he loves them all, how they should never let the House of the Dragon fall into ruins, oblivious to the fact that not Rhaenyra nor Alicent were the ones who broke the family into different agendas, but it was him who started the flame.

Tonight, Aemond doesn’t look at his sister to attend to her. His eye is solely on you, taking in the shape of your lashes kissing your cheekbones, carving the silhouette of your nose and lips in his memories. He looks at the way your lips curve into a grin, cheeks forming into the most beautiful shape he has ever witnessed.

You turn your head a little to glance at him, catching him red-handed while he tries to play it cool, but he finds that he is not powerful enough to look away from your blown-out pupils and the orange hue that’s cast on your irises softly.

He breaks the eye contact, a scowl forming on his face as he reaches for his goblet of wine, nearly throwing the goblet across the table when he hears Lucerys laughing at the two of you.

You beat him to it before he could open his mouth, “Is there something funny, Prince Lucerys?” your voice is so soft and slow, almost humiliatingly sweet, and funnily, it terrifies Luke. 

Aemond smirks as he watches his nephew stuttering over his words while everyone around the table sits in uncomfortable silence, waiting for the young prince to say something, anything.

“I was surprised by how fast Uncle Aemond took a liking to you, given his looks and all,”  he explains, sarcasm dripping like honey from each of his words.

Fucking bastard, Aemond thinks to himself as an ugly sneer sits on his face. As much as he wants to leap toward him and cut off his tongue, he can’t — not when you put your hand on his over the hilt of his dagger.

Your skin is so smooth atop his calloused one. The way your fingers wrap around his wrist sets his body on fire, burning the skin in a way unknown to any man, but this is no ordinary burn; there’s no trace of fire, no long-forgotten ashes of his bones are visible, instead his fingers twitch for more, begging for more skin to skin contact, but he pulls his hand away from you without looking away from Luke’s blushing face.

“Your words are mean for no reason, Lucerys, given how it’s been your doing that has caused Aemond his scar,” you say, “I find him quite handsome actually. He was my beloved friend when we were younger. There are, of course, many feelings between us. Nothing has happened out of the blue for you to mock him for.”

“I-I apologize, good sister, I wasn’t…”

“It is not me who you should apologize to, it’s Aemond. I have taken no offense on my behalf but I do believe you owe him an apology.” You explain, sipping from your glass slowly while keeping your eyes on Lucerys.

No one, not even the King has the strength to intrude into the situation, maybe in doubt of saying something to hurt you, or perhaps you’re just speaking the truth, and for once, everyone fears your gentle mannerisms.

“I apologize, uncle,” 

Aemond’s stare is blank as he looks at Luke who’s chewing the inside of his cheek in embarrassment. He nods, not bothering to reply to him; he will never forgive nor forget what he has done to him, crushing his hopes and ruining his worth for a lifetime.

“Let us put our differences aside, and become a family again,” the king says, coughing before he reaches to drink from his cup. 

The dinner goes smoothly from there and to Aemond’s surprise, he engages in more conversations with you. He does not talk too much, he’d rather listen to your giggles and stories rather than talk about his boring and miserable life.

His eye always lingers on you for far longer than it should, not in an inappropriate way, but more in a sense of intrigue and curiosity, trying to understand you from his perspective. He simply can’t though; you are worlds apart. He is a cold-hearted, broken, and worthless man when it comes to your bright and beautiful personality. Even if he gets to know you again after so many years, he would never think himself worthy enough to be in your presence.

“Aemond…?” you call his name oh so sweetly, making him feel as if he is on top of Vhagar, flying atop the city while the wind blows in his hair; it makes him feel alive.

“Yes, My Lady?”

“Are you alright? You look quite flushed,” You smile sweetly, reaching to put the back of your hand on his cheek, flustering him even more than he already is.

“Yes, yes, I might have had too much wine,” he doesn’t know who he is trying to convince; you or him? By the sound of it, it’s him who needs to be convinced that it’s the wine in his blood and not the same unknown feeling he gets when you look at him. No, it is definitely the wine. It has to be.

“Oh, well then, I wish to spend more time with you if you are not against it,”

“Why would I be?” he asks almost too quickly, making you chuckle at his… enthusiasm. If he can even call it that.

“Then I’d be overjoyed if we could rebound what we had as children.”

•••••••••••

After the dinner, something between you and Aemond shifted; he spent more time outside his room, he was calmer and less serious, and the pain in his skull was almost gone. You joined him in the library a few times in the next few days, meeting each other at your door to attend the meals side by side, and almost everyone could feel how he was changing the longer he had you close, almost turning into the little boy he once was.

Both of you forget your last interactions as an act of mercy for the other.

With your insistence, he agreed to miss the tourney being held for Jace’s nameday to sneak out of the castle and take you to the beach. He did not need much convincing, but when you gave him those doe eyes with a little pout on your lips, he felt weaker than he ever did and gave in immediately.

Aemond helps you down the rocks near the shoreline with your small hands in his, taking cautious steps down to not trip over and hurt yourself. He keeps his eye on your feet instead of his, worrying more about you than himself even though he is stepping down with his good eye on you, not looking where he is going.

That seems to be a bad decision, because the next second, not only does his foot miss a small rock, but yours slips on one too, tumbling into his arms as the two of you fall on the soft sand, Aemond’s arms wrapping tightly around your back to keep you steady.

He looks at you, panting as his eye widens at the closeness; your faces are inches away from each other, and he can feel your soft rushed exhales on his lips. You look like a goddess atop him, the sun illuminating your silver hair, reminding him of the last sennight when you arrived and your hair made your face shine even brighter.

He has never seen such a beauty before, sure he has seen the ladies of the court, but your Valyrian beauty combined with sunlight and the blue hue of the sky has him mesmerized, not realizing how his hands are gripping your waist while he stares at you.

You giggle at first, then break into a fit of laughter while you lean more into him, dropping your forehead on his shoulder as you laugh wholeheartedly.

He chuckles lowly at first, then matches your laughter and throws his head back, holding you on him by one arm while the other comes to run over his face. 

“I have never heard you laugh so freely before,” you say after you have calmed down, putting your palms on either side of his face while you hover over him.

“I don’t remember having a reason to do so,” he replies, smiling up at you.

“I’m glad that I’m able to bring joy to your life, you deserve it.” leaning down, you press a gentle kiss on his cheek before standing up, smoothing down your skirt.

He is at loss of words, speechless to his core. He deserves it, he thinks, do you truly think a monster like him deserves any chance of happiness?  How are you not disgusted by him, his scar, his sour and mean tongue? How can you ever leave a butterfly kiss on someone as unworthy as him? 

He looks at you from where he is staying lying on the sand, watching as you extend your hand to him, rocking on your heels in anticipation so you can go and wander on the beach and reunite with the sea.

He grabs your hand, standing up on his feet as well. There is sand in both of your clothes, but you have just begun your venture and won’t stop until you are satisfied.

You don’t let go of his hand when you start jogging, pulling him with you as you giggle in delight. And he observes you as he always does; wind in your hair, waves crashing against the shore while your laughter fills the air around him. He doesn’t realize his smile has widened and he is following you just as excited, letting the sand and the sea separate you from the outer world.

“You promised you would make a sandcastle for me!” you say, pulling him behind you to the spot where you would sneak away as children, sitting down to get to work.

“I did not,” he replies, unbuttoning his tunic so he can stay under the sun without being bothered by the heat.

“Fine, you did not. But you ruined the one we built together at Driftmark so you owe me one!”

He chuckles at you, his dimples on display as he shakes his head, “Alright, I will make one for you.”

It took you a good few hours to finish the sandcastle; it could have finished much sooner if you hadn’t thrown wet sand at him, cleaning your dirty hands with his white cotton undershirt just to annoy him — and it worked. In a second, he was chasing you around the beach with hands full of wet sand curved into balls, throwing them at you.

And here you are now, fingers laced together, shoes in one hand as you both walk on the shoreline, letting the waves cool your feet. You point at the sunset, leaning on his side when you come to a stop to watch the sky change color as the sun goes down.

Aemond on the other hand, looks at your calm face that is glowing under the pink and orange sunlight. How did he get so lucky to be blessed by such a beauty to lay his eye upon? Maybe he truly deserves this unknown feeling that spreads through him like fire and makes his fingers tingle and his heart beat in happiness. Maybe he deserves to be loved by you and love you unconditionally in return.

You turn around, dropping your shoes before you reach up to cup his cheeks. He closes his eye and basks in the attention you give him; so unique and pure. He drops his boots as well, arms circling your waist to pull you closer.

Aemond doesn’t dare to open his eye, fearing that he might ruin this perfect moment as you trace the lines of his lips, his cheekbones, and his jaw. You are so gentle with him, something he is not quite used to. It has always been him, alone in a cold room, but now and here with you, he feels as if he can breathe again, and forget every pain he has endured to reach this moment of his life.

“Open your eye, My Prince,” you whisper before you peck the corner of his lips, pulling him in so you can rest your forehead on his.

He obligates, sighing shakily when he finds you already looking at him. Your gaze is so genuine that somehow scares him, a rush of destructive thoughts comes into his head, but you seem to notice it from how his hands shake on your waist.

“Don’t think about anything, just… just focus on me.” 

He does as you say, his brain shutting those annoying voices at the back of his head down as soon as your nose brushes against his, your soft lips brushing over his so endearingly. He is hesitant at first but when you peck him again, he moves forward as well, meeting you halfway until his lips are locked with yours.

You taste as sweet as the strawberry cakes you had this morning, if not sweeter. The way your lips move together makes his head hazy. You are kissing his breath away, leaving him begging for more. His chest moves up and down quickly when you break the kiss, and you caress his thin swollen lips, bruised by your kisses and lack of air, while he admires you from head to toe.

The sun has set, but the glimmer of love has risen inside of Aemond’s broken heart.

•••••••••••

A kiss here and there, more sneaking around the castle and to the beach until the main event for Jace’s birthday arrives. He is in his mother’s solar, listening to her talk about how lovely you are and how much of a wonderful couple you would make with him if only you weren’t Daemon’s daughter.

“Mother—”

“You should dance with her tonight, my darling!” Alicent says, running her hands over his arms when he stands up and approaches her, “I have heard Daemon has plans of betrothing her. Obviously, he has yet to find someone suitable, but he is thinking about it.”

Aemond’s heart drops when Alicent says your father is looking for a suiter, fortunately, Alicent sees his surprise, shock, and fear. She reaches to cup his cheek, forcing him to maintain eye contact while she talks, “Don’t let her go if you truly wish to have her. I know that she would stand strong against her father and Rhaenyra, but she would need your support and love as well to feel brave enough to turn down a good match.”

“They would make her happier than I can ever do, Mother,” he replies, his voice breaking slightly. Losing you terrifies him, and he is aware that his mother can read him like an open book, shushing him while he inhales sharply.

“I have never seen her happier than I have with you, and I have never seen you this happy and lively, darling. Be selfish for once, choose your happiness this time.”

“How can I choose my happiness over her life?!” he asks harshly, frowning at his mother.

A knock interrupts Alicent before she can respond, and the guards open the door for you to step inside the queen’s room.

“Oh, I apologize, it was not my intention to interrupt you.”

Aemond seems to be struck by your beauty; your body is wrapped in a teal-colored gown with a low neckline that leaves your shoulders and collarbones on display. Your silver hair is braided with some parts of it pinned up, some strands framing your bare neck.

“You look so beautiful, my darling,” Alicent says, nudging Aemond a bit forward when she sees how he is looking at you.

“Thank you, my queen. You look very beautiful as well,” you look away from the queen, smiling when he approaches you slowly, “you said you were going to wear something close to this color and I decided it would look quite good to match. How do I look?”

“Enchanting,” he breathes out, reaching to hold your hand, pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, “You look breathtaking, My Lady.”

“So do you, My Prince.”

“Shall we then?” he offers you his arm and you accept without hesitation, looking back to see if the queen will come with you and she assures you she will come with the King.

“You said you were going to retrieve me from my chambers for the party,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you walk toward the great hall.

“I am deeply sorry. Mother wanted to have a word with me,” he explains, dropping a quick kiss on the crown of your head.

“Is everything alright, Aemond?” you ask him, and he chuckles at how adorably your brows twist into a frown in worry. “Yes, darling, she merely wished to remind me to make sure you have a great time tonight. You are our special guest.”

“Does that mean you will dance with me?” you ask, holding his hands in yours before you reach the hall.

“We shall see,” he brings your hands to his lips again, leading you toward the hall, bowing and nodding at the ladies and lords who take it upon themselves to greet you.

You come to a stop in front of the table, Rhaena coming to hug you and twirl you around, gasping at the sight of your beautiful gown, gasping even louder when she sees how your dress matches Aemond’s tunic.

A ghost of a smile finds its way on Aemond’s face as he watches you get flustered at your sister’s attention to details, but soon, his eye hardens when he finds his uncle glaring at the two of you. Tonight will change the course of so many lives.

He watches you laugh with your sisters, pointing at the empty chair next to you so he would sit close by all night. With one last glare at his uncle, he walks to his seat and pours wine into his cup, blushing a bit when he hears you laughing again. You are not even laughing at something he has said and he is the one who gets flushed.

He is knee-deep inside these new feelings but he welcomes the challenge with open arms. Or at least he tries to do so without Daemon being an obstacle to his plans. 

He looks at you when Rhanea and Helaena pull you to the dancefloor for the new song, pairing up with different lords to dance with, but what catches his eye, isn’t who you are dancing with, but more than who Daemon is talking to. He recognizes the lord to be from the south, probably a Tyrell, and when his uncle and the lord look in your direction, he knows something is not right, an uneasy feeling settling deep in his stomach.

He watches the lord closely as he makes his way through the crowd to get to you, bowing and introducing himself before taking your hand to dance with you. He can see how uncomfortable he is making you, probably discussing his sick desire to have a wife and kids while he dances with a Targaryen-Valeryon goddess.

“Stop glaring and do something!” Baela slides into the seat next to him, hissing the words at him while she keeps her eyes fixed on you as well, “I don’t like you, I will never like you, but you make her happy. Do something before our father ruins her life because of Rhaenyra.” “I thought you liked your stepmother,” Aemond chooses to ignore most of the things she said.

“It’s Rhaenyra’s schemes, please, Aemond, my sister deserves to feel appreciated. I have never seen any lord take an interest in her the way you have. You are the only thing she could talk about in the last few days. I will beg you if I have to.” Aemond turns his head toward Baela, letting her words calm down the hesitancy he has toward courting you. There are far more handsome men than him in the court, yet, he is the one who is blessed to hold you and kiss you, to gaze into your eyes and see forever in them.

He hisses when he feels a sting in his skull, not now, no. The pain can’t start now. He gulps his wine before he nods at Bela and stands up to walk to the crowd in the middle of the hall, catching your eyes for a second before he has to bow and start the dance with a lady he does not care to engage in a conversation with.

He thinks about how much he has changed in a few days; there will always be a part of him who thinks he’s not worthy of your affection, that you can do better than him, but also the thought of you in another man’s arms sets his skin ablaze. He is torn between keeping you all to himself or letting you have a wonderful future with another guy who can stand by your side and make you proud, who is not maimed and scarred like him.

Luckily, everyone needs to change their partner and he reaches with his hand to grab yours and pull you to his side, grinning when he hears your delighted shriek. “My Prince Aemond,” you say, squeezing his hand while the two of you twirl around the room.

 He doesn’t wish to say, but the tempo is too high for me, and it worries him that somehow he might make a fool of himself or you if he trips over someone’s shoe on his blindside.

“Lady Targaryen, you look like a Valyrian Goddess, my beloved.”

“Why thank you, my good prince. I have to say that this color truly brings out your beautiful eye,” you reply coyly, tipping your chin up while you bite your lip.

“You are playing with fire, darling.” he leans down to whisper in your ear, pressing a feather-like kiss on your earlobe without anyone noticing.

“I’m a Targaryen, Prince Aemond, fire is in my blood,”

“Is that so? Well, I must say—”

He doesn’t know what happens, or how it happens, but in a second he can’t see you when he twirls you around him, and suddenly, the weight of your waist isn’t in his hand anymore.

“Aemond!” you fall down by his feet, and he sees that his boots have caught the edge of your heels, making you twist your ankle in the wrong way and causing your fall.

What have I done?

What have I done?

I dropped her.

I did this.

What happened?

His eye has widened in fear, and he is frozen in place, hands shaking slightly as he feels the crowd around you look in your direction, staring and gaping at him before the hushed whispers start to fill the room.

“Aemond, look—”

He can’t look at you. He will never be able to live with himself for humiliating you in the way he did tonight.

Stupid, weak, useless good for nothing, Aemond. If another lord was dancing with her, he wouldn’t have dropped her. A prince but less worthy than a common whore. 

With trembling lips, and a pain blooming in his eyesocket, he dashes out of the room, leaving you on the floor. 

His vision is blurry, the pain is getting worse and the air is stuck in his lungs. He can’t breathe, no, he doesn’t deserve to breathe. How can he when all he wanted to do was to dance with you but ended up hurting you? How could he hurt you like this? 

He skips the steps, running to his room while he groans in pain, the stinging is getting stronger, the agony in his nerves is spreading through his skull and it only gets worse when he opens the door to his chambers to find not only scented candles but the windows and the balcony door is open as well.

“You are dismissed!” he shouts at the guard before he slams the door shut, “Ah!” He tumbles down, gripping the nearest chair to keep himself on his feet at least before he falls on his knees, clawing at the eyepatch to pull it off as if it’s burning his skin.

The pain is like a dagger, stabbing him over and over again until even his knees don’t have the strength to keep him up. He falls on the floor, curling into a ball while the pain spreads through his face, and he finally breaks down, bursting into tears from agony and humiliation. If only he wasn’t in pain… if only his eye wasn’t cut out…

Aemond doesn’t hear when the door opens, nor he can see who the person is. Tears have flooded his vision, but as soon as he feels your soft hand on his arms, trying to help him sit up, he flinches, backing away from you while he gasps for air, feeling his tunic clinging to his sweaty body. 

“Aemond, please let me—” “No, no, no, no…” he stands up hurriedly, walking to the balcony on unsteady legs to get some air in his lungs, only to be met by a freezing wind that makes the chronic pain in his eye even worse. He drops to his knees again, this time the sounds of his gasps and painful yelps are louder than before.

You rush to his side, kneeling in front of him to cup his cheeks, kissing his clammy forehead before you wipe his tears away gently. He lets you touch him this time, too exhausted to utter a word, to push you away even if he has to.

“It’s going to be okay, Aemond, let me help you,” You help him on his feet, making sure to have your arms wrapped tightly around him while he leans his weight on you, trusting you to take care of him, even though the voice in the back of his head is telling him to push you out of his room.

“Gently, my love, gently,” you help him lay down on the bed, pecking his cheek again, rising to get the smoke out of the room but his hands shot up and grabs your forearm tightly.

“Stay, please,” he whimpers, his beautiful eye tearing in pain.

“I will, my dearest, I just need to blow out the candles and close the windows, and I’ll be back in bed with you.” You reach and bring his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss upon his knuckles before he lets you go.

He can’t see you clearly, but your shadow moves from side to side frantically, blowing the candles on the balcony so the smoke won’t get inside again, shutting the windows quickly so the cold wind doesn’t bother him anymore before you come to bed again.

You unlace your gown, taking it off so you can tend to him more easily, pulling at the few pins inside your head to let the strands fall freely around your shoulders. You climb onto the bed, a jar of his salve and ointment in hand with clean rags in your other as you sit comfortably next to him, helping him take off his tunic and pants.

Aemond lies on the pillow on your lap, sniffing as you look at his face; bare and raw of emotions with his sapphire glinting in the low lights of the room.

“My love, you need to help me pull the gem out,” you whisper, almost sound scared of him, or scared of what you might see.

“No, it is an unbecoming sight—”

“Nothing about you is unbecoming. You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on, and for you and your suffering, I begged my grandma to allow me to study about your condition with the Maesters,” you lean to kiss the bridge of his nose, “the skin around your eyesocket is swollen, if we do not pull it out now, it shall make it more unbearable for you.”

He hesitates for a moment. While he would love to ask you about why you studied something so gruesome because of him, he can’t help but feel so wanted. The pain is getting worse, sure, he has to pull the gem out anyway but to hear you say how you have begged Rhaenys to let you partake in those classes, to maybe someday help him with his pain… that truly makes him feel fuzzy all over.

“Alright…” he whispers, gritting his teeth in pain as he reaches out with his fingers to grab the side of the gem, pulling it out slowly while he groans and the pain nearly knocks him out. “Shouldn’t we use something more—” “Take it out, take it out—I don’t care how!”

You nod, tears falling from your eyes as you watch him writhe in pain more as the two of you pull his sapphire out, leaving a heavily swollen and empty eyesocket on display. His hand falls limp on the bed while you drop the gem into a clean bowl before pouring some of the ointment on a rag, gently holding his face in one hand while the other daps slowly over the scar and his ripped eyelids, pressing a few kisses here and there to soothe his whimpering.

He clings to your arms and waist tightly, letting his tears fall freely while you soothe his pain away, falling into slumber easily beneath your gentle touch.

•••••••••••

He is running.

Where is he? Why is he running?

He looks around him, finding himself in the labyrinth he always sees in his dreams.

The hedges are covered in ivy, the walls have gotten taller and the paths are thinner.

What’s this smell?

He steps closer to the source of it, taking different routes until the smell gets worse and stronger. He knows where the center of the maze is, he has been here countless times.

He turns around, finding the space of the labyrinth of his dream, but he doesn’t expect to see you there, not while standing with your nightshift covered in maroon, hands dripping with thick droplets of blood as you look at him horrifyingly.

“Darling, are you alright?”

“Don’t- don’t come closer,” you say, taking a step away from him.

“I don’t understand, why—” “You did this to me!” screaming at him, your hands cover your heart, and he finally sees how your chest has been ripped open and blood gushes out of the wound.

“I was not here—”

“You did this to me! You hurt me, Aemond!”

“Aemond!”

“Aemond!”...

He jolts up, gasping for air, hands clutching the bedsheets as he experiences another nightmare. He looks at you, finding you awake and alarmed while you rub his back, eyes filled with worry and pain for him.

“You should leave,” his voice is barely above whispering, his nails digging into the palms of his hand while he blinks his tears away.

“Aemond—” “I will only hurt you, why don’t you understand?!” he asks, raising his voice a little. 

He is torn between needing you to wishing you were gone; he can’t cope if he ever hurts you again.

“You have not hurt me, you won’t hurt me.” “I killed you in my dream! You fell in front of everyone and twisted your ankle because of me, I humiliated you! How can you say I won’t fucking hurt you? I have already done it.” He explains, but instead of pushing you away, he welcomes you when you pull him down into your embrace, holding his head tightly in your neck as he sobs uncontrollably.

“It’s not your fault, I should have been more careful. I won’t let you ruin yourself for something that was a mistake on my behalf.” you kiss the side of his face, rocking him from side to side while he calms down eventually.

“Don’t push me away, I love you, Aemond. Let me be here and help you carry this heavy pain with you.”

He doesn’t reply, but his arms tighten around you.

He looks at how you lay back on the pillows, gently pulling him in your arms until he is lying in your chest while you play with his hair.

“Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

•••••••••••

He opens his eye slowly when he feels someone caressing his hair, pressing butterfly kisses all over his face. Smiling a little, he finds you admiring him in his sleep, taking notes of every line and deep of his skin.

“It’s very rude to stare,” he says, his voice thick and raspy from all the crying he did last night.

“Not when he is my lover,” you whisper back, nuzzling your nose against his, “you look like a fairy when you sleep.”

“No one has ever told me that. How do you come up with such unique ways to describe me?” He leans over, pressing a kiss on your shoulder while he waits for you to answer.

“You are a wonderful muse for poetry, I shall start writing about your hair and eye!”

He keeps his lips sealed to your skin, sucking and nibbling until he is satisfied with the marks he has left. His pupil is blown out with a newfound lust; how can he not desire you when you are lying in his arms with your wild white hair plastered over his pillows?

“You are staring,” he chuckles at how breathless you sound. He hasn’t even begun to do anything and he already has you melting under his touch.

“Can you blame me? I have the most exquisite lady of the realm in my bed.”

“What happened to the insecure boy I held last night?” You ask while leaning up towards him, pushing him down on his back so you can straddle his narrow hips.

“It’s still here with us in this room, but he has begun to heal. You have helped him when he had no one,” his palms rest on your thighs.

“I need you,” it comes more as a plea, but Aemond obliges and flips the two of you over, hiding his face in your neck to prep it with kisses while he whispers that he needs you too.

“I love you, darling,” he whispers, craning his neck to catch your lips in a kiss, moving them together with a rhythm that encourages him to take the next step.

His hand inches downward, pushing past the fabric of your underwear to find you already wet for him.

“I-I have already lost my maidenhand…”

“I don’t care, I have you now,”

He silences your whine with another deep kiss, his fingers circling your clit until you are squirming and bucking your hips into his palm, your arms pulling him in by the shoulders.

He breaks the kiss, watching you take a deep breath when he pushes one digit inside while he tugs at the front of your shift, pulling it down until your tits are on display. He covers your chest with marks and bruises the same time another finger enters you, making you gasp loudly in pleasure.

He stretches you on his fingers, thrusting them in and out slowly at first, but soon he is speeding up, his patience running thin as he scissors you open not roughly to make it hurt, but to make sure you are ready to take him.

“A-Aemond, please, need you closer,”

He nods because he too can feel the need to become one with you, to take you as his, or more so you take him as yours.

His breeches are thrown on the floor, followed by his undershirt immediately as he takes home between your spread legs, one hand holding him up while the other guides his throbbing cock to your entrance. You both gasp in union when his tip nudges past your muscles, pushing in slowly and gently until he is sheathed inside you completely.

You throw your head back, wrapping your legs around his waist while your nails dig into his naked chest as he lets you get adjusted to his size.

“Can I move?” He asks, leaning down over you as he cages you beneath him, both of his forearms holding himself up against the pillow under your head.

You nod, looking at him with pleading eyes, and he finally caves in and moves slowly; pulling his hips back a little before driving in.

The next minutes pass by him gently making love to you, circling his hips and kissing you, bringing you closer and closer to your highest point. You know you both are close when his groans and moans grow louder, and your voice matches his tone as he quickenes his pace, the loud sounds of skin slapping against each other echoing in the chambers of the prince.

You both finish together; you with a gasp of his name, and him with a loud groan of yours as he fills you and you gush around him. He trembles above you, whether it is for the climax he experiences or the overwhelming love he holds for you. 

He watches your face twist in pleasure — the pleasure he is giving you — and he memorizes every sound, counting each lash that he can while he himself rides his high with you.

He drops face down on the bed next to you, both of you trying to catch your breath as you look at each other with a satisfied expression on your faces.

“They would ask about our whereabouts if we are late for breakfast.” You say, giggling when he groans in absolute disgust — he is not ready to leave this room and face the world again when he knows he can stay and take you again, thrive in your attention and love for all day.

“Must you ruin this moment for us? Now I can only think about how to face your father after what we did.”

“You should look him in the eye and ask for my hand,” you sit up, throwing the cover off of you before getting off the bed “and you shall do it with the braids I do for you,”

“You are impossible,” he says, but he knows that behind his words, there is no hidden intent, nothing but adoration and playfulness.

“Come, sit!” You pull him off the bed as well, leading him to his vanity before pushing him down on the chair, both of you stark naked as you brush his hair slowly.

He looks at himself in the mirror, and for the first time in years, his reflection doesn’t disgust him, it doesn’t scare him or make him self-conscious. He feels… beautiful, he feels worthy again of having this life, having you as his.

“Do you wish to know what I see when I look at you?” You ask him, letting his soft hair fall around his shoulders before you lean down, wrapping your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He nods, hands coming to cover yours where they caress the skin above his heart.

“I see a broken man who needed to be saved. I see a boy, fierce and strong as he claims the largest dragon alive. I see my friend who danced with me in different gatherings, my beloved friend who built sandcastles with me and helped me with my Valyrian studies. I see my Aemond, finally freed from the labyrinth of his mind.”

[candysunoo]

ೋ◦ ❀❀ enhypen as a

bridgerton story ❀❀ ◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦dearest gentle-reader ◦ೋ•

❀my name is lady whistledown. you do not know me, and rest assured, you never shall. but be forewarned dear reader, I certainly know you.❀

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

❀ now, before we shall begin dear gentle-reader there is something you must know. this author has no rights to the Bridgerton stories/ series. thus all of the following are loosely based on them. this author also does not know any of the boys personally; and thus this is not an accurate portrayal or representation of them and their lively hood. thank you in advance dearest gentle-reader. please enjoy. sincerely, your lady whistledown (aka kei ;D) ❀

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦ ❀❀ Lee Heeseung - Queen Charlotte ❀❀◦ೋ• 18+ MDNI

❀❀❀ King Lee Heeseung, 3rd of his name, the ruler of Great Britain and Ireland, your new husband.

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

❀❀❀ When your tiny island kingdom falls apart under the scrutiny of the large countries around it your brother has no choice but to marry you off. Marry you off to none other than the King of Great Britain and Ireland. Lee Heesesung ascended the throne young after his father tragically died. Years after finally coming of age, his mother decides it’s time for him to marry and produce the next heir, despite his covertly concealed mental illness. When you arrive it seems as nothing can go your way. From mistakingly talking down to the king after being caught trying to run away, to what was supposed to be your honeymoon night your ladies maid explained. But must you know dearest reader, that love does indeed conquer all and secrets don’t stay secrets for long.

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: may 22nd, 2024❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: strangers - to kinda friends- to lovers, traditional gender roles, 1700’s societal expectations, arranged/ forced marriage, bitchy mother-in-law, mentions of parental death, mentions of mental health and feeling like an outsider, medical malpractice, mention of feeling unloved and trapped in a marriage, SMUT, sex (lots of it), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, put that wiener in a blanket), breeding kink , praise, mention of pregnancy and birth, angst and fluff, idiots in love, MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦ ❀❀ Park Jongseong - The Duke & I ❀❀◦ೋ• 18+ MDNI

❀❀❀ Park Jongseong aka Jay, first of his name, The Duke of Hastings.

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

Dearest gentle reader, haven’t you heard? The honorable l/n family is finally debuting the oldest daughter. A vision of beauty, just as her mother was, any young man would be happy to have her on his arm.

That being said being the eldest daughter of eight children can be tough. Especially as you are now of age to enter society. It was exhausting really, the trips to the modieste for the hours of standing for the dropping of hems and the countless arguments between your eldest brother, the head of the family, and your mother. After your father died your brother had become especially protective of you and your other siblings; much to the dismay of your mother. The protectiveness only gets worse when you catch the eye of not only the queen but also a certain Duke who is determined to stay out of the clawing hands of desperate mamas and their daughters.

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: May 29th, 2024 ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: fake dating- to true love, traditional gender roles, 1700’s/1800’s societal expectations, mention of childhood trauma, mention of parental death, small mention of attempted assault (nothing graphic y/n gets forcibly kissed, it does not go into detail), retired manwhore jay, anxiety, traditional courting, mention of fighting/ light violence, forced to married - destined to stay, mention of having children, lies of omission, SMUT, corruption kink, virgin y/n, jay talking you through it, wet dreams, MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦ ❀❀ Sim Jaeyun - Romancing Mr. Bridgerton ❀❀◦ೋ•

❀❀❀ Sim Jaeyun aka Jake, first of his name, 3rd eldest son of his family, and your longtime friend and crush.

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

Dearest gentle-reader, ever since the successful seasons of not only his older brothers but sisters as well all eyes have fallen on the 3rd eldest son of the Sim family. Will this be the season he finds a presentable young lady to hold him down to the mainland; or will he end up on yet another voyage across the sea?

Ever since you can remember you have been friends Sim Hyunjin, the middle daughter of the Sim family. Also since you can remember you have had a massive crush on her younger brother Jaeyun, or as he liked to be called Jake. Everyone who knew you knew that you were nothing less than a soft, quiet, wallflower. Always sticking close to the edge of the room, alone and watching the courting couples dance the night away. Jake was always so kind in that regard; pulling you away from the wall and to the dance floor but never letting it get further. Never officially courting you or even giving you the curtesy of signing your dance card. However when you overhear a conversation not meant for you everything changes. Will Jake be too late to fix what he had broken?

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: ft. Loossemble/ Loona’s Kim Hyunjin as his sister (they share the same birthday lol), friends- to strangers/ acquaintances- to friends again- to lovers, traditional gender roles, 1700’s-1800’s societal expectations, mentions of hard family situations, mentions of feeling alone and like an outsider, reader gets called names (by Jake he doesn’t really mean it?), flirting, jealousy, heartbreak, fights between friends, POSSIBLE SMUT I HAVEN’T DECIDED YET, MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦ ❀❀ Park Sunghoon - The Viscount who Loved Me ❀❀◦ೋ• 18+ MDNI

❀❀❀ Park Sunghoon, first of his name, eldest child of his family, The Viscount. The bane of your existence.

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

Dearest gentle-reader, after the ever successful season of his younger sister last year Park Sunghoon has declared himself available to be wed. Making him the most desirable young gentleman of this season. May we wish luck to the other young men, as the nagging mamas and their equally difficult daughters shall be all over the Viscount.

Being the eldest son of a prestigious family was no walk in the park. Especially for Park Sunghoon who had taken over as the head of his family after his father’s tragic death. After the past year his mama had been insistent on him marring. Especially after she found out about a certain opera singer and the way he funded her lifestyle. Entering the marriage market his wasn’t looking for love. He was looking for a woman with at least half a head on her shoulders and child- bearing hips. No need for anything else. He just needed a wife. You and your sister had just arrived in town, sponsored by an old family friend to join this marriage season. Staying with Lady Lee Chae-rin was nothing less than a dream. She was kind and understanding towards you, your sister and your mother. Strong willed and outspoken you were determined to find someone for your sister to wed, if not for her, for your entire family. However what happens when alls not fair in love and war?

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: TBD❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: enemies- to lovers, mention of parental death, traditional gender roles, 1700’s-1800’s societal expectations, arguments, extortion(not by Sunghoon or reader), mentions of family issues, shitty grandparents, rushed engagement, technical cheating (Sunghoon is with readers sister), angst to fluff, Sunghoon is a world class rake, breaking off an engagement SMUT, hate sex, light degradation, some praise, public sex (in a private garden no one else is there)❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦ ❀❀ Kim Sunoo - An offer from a Gentleman ❀❀◦ೋ• 18+ MDNI

❀❀❀ Kim Sunoo, first of his name, the 2nd son of his prestigious family, an artist, and perhaps your Prince Charming?

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

Dearest gentle-reader, love has a funny way of finding its way around the ‘ton. Of course, when there are so many eligible young men and women how could it not? This author happens to think that one of the eligible young men of the ‘ton may find love where he least expects it. Or rather with whom unexpected love comes with.

When your mother died it felt as if the warmth of the universe had gone with her. The flowers no longer grew and the wind no longer sang a tune as it blew. As you approached the age of your debute into society you had some hope. However it was all crushed into small bits when your father married Seo Minhae. The literal devil in disguise. After that her and her ill-mannered daughter moved into and made you a servant in your own home. Pushed out of your room and into the basement, forced to do housework and cook you were treated as nothing. Finally reaching your breaking point you snuck out of the house. Finding yourself at a masquerade ball and in the arms of a tall, slim, dark haired man. Feeling like royalty and like you were on top of the world you had the night of your life. That is until the clock struck midnight.

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: strangers- to lovers, Cinderella type content, traditional gender roles, 1700’s - 1800’s societal expectations, mention of parental death, awful evil stepmother and step sisters, running away, slight escapism, mention of depression and slight religious imagery, masquerade ball, reader is implied to be shorter than Sunoo, abrupt abandonment, angst and fluff, SMUT, soft sex, unprotected sex( wrap it before you tap it, put that wiener in a blanket), praise, dirty talk, overall sweet and fluffy, MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦ ❀❀ Yang Jungwon - It’s in His Kiss ❀❀◦ೋ•

❀❀❀ Yang Jungwon, first of his name, an entitled aristocrat just like the rest; but could there possibly be more lurking underneath his greed for inheritance?

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

Dearest gentle-reader, the time has come for the youngest daughter of the l/n family to make her debut into society. Though between you and I founder has it that the youngest of the l/n family is too much to handle when it comes to romance. Loud and outspoken one can only hope the youngest will find someone suitable for her.

Yang Jungwon was the eldest child in his family. He was born for greatness. He planned his whole life as he seen fit on the promise of his inheritance. You however were the youngest daughter, loud, outspoken, intelligent and brash. Yang Jungwon could hardly stand you. That is until he needs your help of course. After his father has taken over the family’s business and title he didn’t seem to want to give it up. Yang Jungwon didn’t know what to do with himself. After all what grounds does his father have to deny him his birthright? Finding a journal from his long dead grandfather, Jungwon finds himself in a bind; the journal is written in an entirely different language and could possibly hold the solution for his predicament. However, the only person he knows who can remotely translate it, even if it’s not perfect, is you. The one person his calm and quiet self can not stand to be around for long periods of time.

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: acquaintances- to friends- to lovers, shitty parents, mention of parental death, Jungwon is technically an orphan, threats of disinheriting, mean comments (towards reader not by jungwon), reader is a bit much for Jungwon at times, overall fluffy, heavy petting, make out session, LIGHT SMUT( nothing too in depth just an after scene) MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦ ❀❀ Nishimura Riki - On the way to the Wedding ❀❀◦ೋ•

❀❀❀ Nishimura Riki aka Niki, first of his name, the youngest son in his family, trapped between the glamorous dream of love at first sight and the harshness of reality.

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

Dearest gentle-reader, do you know that true love conquers all? Well this season we are in for a treat, the youngest of the Nishimura family finally has plans on marrying. This old author can’t help but wonder what shenanigans this season will hold.

Nishimura Riki was the youngest of eight children. He had grown up watching all of his sibling find true and meaningful relationships. That was all he wanted for himself. Riki believed in love at first sight. Especially when he saw her Danielle Marsh, your best friend. When his gaze first saw her it was as if he had been struck with Cupid’s arrow. It went so deep in his heart he couldn’t breathe, the entire world was stopped as he watched her from afar. However that didn’t last for long as he witnessed her approach another man, fluttering her eyelashes and giggling at him.

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: love triangle, love at first sight, unrequited love- to true love, idiots in love, “let me help you help her”, breaking up engagements, mentions of family issues, love confessions in a garden, heavy petting make out session, ‼️NO SMUT‼️, angst with happy ending, MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

❀ i hope you all look forward to reading the stories! i‘ll update the content warnings as i finish the stories! please ignore any mistakes i may have made as i will start to go through and correct them! also ignore the bad formatting i did it on mobile 😭 - kei ❀

❀ a taglist has been created you can find that post here! that is the current standing of who will be tagged in the first post. feel free to ask to be added by commenting or sending an ask/ message! ❀

‼️‼️ ©️ @candysunoo 2024 DO NOT copy, repost or translate without permission ‼️‼️

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, smut, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> mentions of violence, mention of putting down / death, etc. words -> 4.2K

abstract -> “I hope we can get along” 

y/n’s perspective

“I’ve missed this place,” Wooyoung said as he got out of the elevator first. 

“You know, Taeyong is angry with you” I heard as I saw Yuta and I smiled. “He should’ve expected this,” I said and he chuckled. “Yes… but he needs to bring some sense to Kun” he said and I nodded.

“I can at least text him you're okay and you've made it back safely. Johnny also told me you needed a lot of rest, and to change the bandages once a day at least and clean them. He said that if you feel weak or tired, slow down and let your body rest you just got out of a coma” he scolded and I chuckled. 

“I can clean your wounds, '' Seonghwa asked and I smiled. “Thank you,” I said and I chose to ignore Yeosang’s glare at him. “Please take care of her… and y/n this place is clean but Johnny said avoid your room in case it triggers a bad memory,” he said and I nodded sadly. 

“Sleep early tonight, by the morning everyone's gonna know you're awake,” he said and I nodded as he left. “Come on, let's get ready for bed first,” Yeosang said and I nodded. Preening… or grooming a dog's version of taking care of their mate. I smiled softly at the thought. 

“I’ll make you some tea!” Wooyoung said as he went to the kitchen looking through the cupboard. “I’ll get the first aid kit ready,” Seonghwa said and I was happy to feel relieved around them again. 

I woke up to Seonghwa’s voice saying breakfast was made. Yeosang and Wooyoung tightened their grip on me. “A few more minutes,” Yeosnag said, still sleepy… “yeah a few more– WHY ARE YOU MAKING BREAKFAST THAT'S MY JOB!” Wooyoung yelled and I laughed. 

“It's already noon, and you were in a deep sleep. It's technically lunchtime already” Seonghwa said and I chuckled. “Thank you, Seonghwa,” I said and he smiled. 

“I did what I could with what was in the fridge. There was a lot of old food so I cleaned it out” he said and I nodded. “Oh. Seonghwa, that's your job now” Wooyoung said and I laughed. Wooyoung did hate to clean the fridge and after he cooked. 

We ate our food while I looked at my messages… Everyone was texting me to feel better and that they were glad I was okay. Kun still hasn’t texted me…

“Are we going back?” Wooyoung asks and I smile softly. “I can go alone, if you’d like?” I asked and he looked sad about that. “I’ll go with you” Yeosang and Seonghwa said at the same time. 

“I think it's best if I go alone… I need to talk to San and maybe see how bad it is” I said and they nodded. At the end of the day… San was my first hybrid I promised to him. I wasn’t gonna let him down now. 

“Are you gonna see Hongjoong?” Seonghwa asks and I sigh. “I… should’ve been more professional about handling Hongjoong. I got too into my head and I forgot the tell signs of a hybrid. I’m licensed in handling red code hybrids… so I feel like I owe him a try” I explained and they looked nervous for me. 

“I’ll have to talk to Kun first, however”

“You’re… okay,” he said speechless. He came up and hugged me tight… There was a time when my parents didn’t care what I did, they just made sure I had enough money to take care of myself. 

Kun was one of my friends who became like an older brother to me… he was protective and overall cared a lot about my well-being even after my breakup with Hendery. Even when my parents found out I studied writing and not business or a respectable white-collar degree. 

“I saw… your heart stops, I thought you weren’t gonna make it” he cried out and I sighed. “Well, here I am,” I said and he only tightened his grip. 

“When Doyoung said you were here yesterday I didn't believe him… and then Johnny and Taeyong confirmed and– I’m just happy you’re okay” he said and I smiled as he let me go. 

“Wooyoung was really bad. He’s never experienced a depressive episode that bad, he’d at least eat and go outside but not once did he move. He’d stare at the door constantly to see if you’d appear” he said and it broke my heart. “Yeosang’s owner was trying to bribe our shareholders to be given Yeosang but my family wouldn’t give in” he explained. 

“Thank you for trying your best even when you assumed I was dying” I said and he sighed. “Why did you take that tiger with you?” he asked and I sighed. 

“I… I didn’t tell you but Hongjoong got to me when I interviewed him. He mentioned a hybrid would do anything to survive and compared it to them” I said and he looked at me disappointed. 

“You should’ve known better. Those hybrids… has anyone told you about San?” he trailed off and I shook my head. “They said he was a code purple and his mind is scattered, can't tell time, aggressive?” I said and he nodded. 

“San… we originally had them all together when they were first here but he turned violent wanting to hurt Hongjoong. When we isolated him the next day he kept muttering to himself ‘any second now’ as if you’d pick him up. Hours after he attacked you… you came for him only hours after and he thinks that’ll happen again. No matter if we remind him three times a day he'll forget… I'm worried about how he’ll behave when he’s with you again” he said and I sighed. 

“I need to see him. '' I said and he sighed “Let us… make sure he’s okay first” he said and I nodded. “In the meantime then… what happened to Hongjoong?” I asked and he shook his head. 

“He's not going with you–” “He’s already my hybrid… I didn’t give him a chance or anything to prove him wrong. I let him get to me and in return only proved him right” I said and he scoffed. 

“Those bandages on your neck are because of him. Your hybrids suffered because of him and I still want to help him?” he asked me angrily. 

“Kun… when we were kids, you saved a hybrid and he’s still with you today but remember Sicheng with Yuta and how he was just as aggressive. Abused and neglected, his parents wanted Sicheng dead but you made a promise to Yuta and now he’s in a sanctuary in China at your family’s estate. You told me you’d help any hybrid you could and that's why you have this job… please do me this favor” I begged and he sighed. 

“You owe me” 

It was like it was almost a month ago. 

Preparing to interview him… the difference is I'm not here for business nor do I have Seonghwa’s protection. I took a deep breath and entered the red code area. It had hybrids locked behind impenetrable glass and a metal covering in front of it instead of the curtains the other hybrids had. 

I made it to his kennel when I saw his report… it had a determined sign. He was gonna be sent to a different center… in China?

I noticed the metal covering was now being lifted. They must've noticed on the cameras I was there already. He was in a corner… his tail twitching and his constraints were clearly uncomfortable. 

“Hello,” I said and his ears lifted up… he looked over his shoulder to see me. He shook his head… “You're not real” he muttered as his head faced the corner again 

“Maybe I’m not. Maybe I'm here to haunt you” I joked and his ears twitched… “Why did you do that?” I asked curious if he’d answer. “I didn’t… want to kill you. I-I want… just want to be free” he said his voice only getting more vulnerable. 

“Seonghwa hates me now… I have no one, I'm alone and I'm going somewhere I don’t even recognize. I have your blood on my hands… it won’t go away” he muttered.

“I… never killed anyone. I didn’t… I wanted… I don’t know anymore. I’m sorry” he said and I could see how his back shook. Was he crying?

“Did you know… I went to your show when I was a kid” I confessed and he froze. “My parents were busy… they couldn't take care of me. So they had a hybrid take care of me. She was a bear hybrid, and they made her take me to the Circus… I had a front-row seat, I remember seeing you” I said and he now turned to look at me. His eyes are glassy and red.

“You looked like you liked to perform. I may have been naive to what they did to hybrids… but you were a part of the main show with Seonghwa” I confessed and he shook his head. “You’re not real” he kept muttering to assure himself. 

“I remember a different ringleader than the one I interviewed… he approached me and asked where my parents were. When my babysitter tried to explain, he yelled at her to be quiet. That a lowly hybrid shouldn’t talk to him that way–” he furrowed his eyebrows. He stood up and tried getting as close to the glass as the chains let him. 

“–I told him my parents were busy and she was taking care of me. He laughed and said that bear hybrids belong to the circus not taking care of kids like me–” he now sat down and looked at me confused and probably questioning if I was really here “–she cried on the drive home. The ringleader gave me a phone number and told me to tell my parents he offered a ton of money for her. I know… that she didn’t trust me. So when we came home my parents were already there… They asked if I liked the show. It's when I remember looking at her and she smiled a sad smile at me with glassy eyes…” he looked at me curious and maybe interested in what I was saying?

“I started to cry. I hugged my mom saying the ringleader yelled at me and her, demanding to see them. They were… angry to say the least, and he was fired, but that didn’t mean the place was shut down” I said sadly. 

“What happened to the hybrid?” he asked and I sighed. “She… stayed with me until I had to go to college. That night she tucked me in and she muttered a thank you. I loved her like I did my mother… but one day when I returned from college to visit her they told me she was no longer needed, and so they sent her away” I said and he nodded.

“I remember that night…  men in suits came and said they were gonna sue. The next ringleader was a co-owner of his so nothing changed… are you real?” he asked and I smiled. 

“Am I?” I asked and he sighed. 

“I’d like to believe you are… even if I'd be lying to myself. Can I ask… where's Seonghwa?” he asked and I debated on telling him. “Happy,” I said and he smiled softly. 

“I hope he is. I hope he gets adopted… he loved seeing the amazed kids when he did a trick and even the hybrids. He always would say to me, he wants to be as oblivious as them… where he doesn’t know what abuse is any more” he said as he cried again. 

“I would always tell him… that it would be impossible. He’d have to be human, it's when I learned you could buy citizenship and a species change” he said… the illegal black market in Korea was dangerous. However, the surgeries they offered were hybrids… it was nearly impossible to achieve but an even smaller percentage rate of survival… 

“It’s stupid… that was my plan and now I don’t even want it. Seonghwa spoke highly of you–” he was now lying down facing his back to me “–he got along the best with Wooyoung and he’d explain to him how you saved all three of them. I never understood what you did” he said and I sighed.

“It wasn’t until they told us… San was a part of the illegal fighting rings for hybrids. No one survived over a month and yet he was a survivor of all his life. Wooyoung abandoned and Yeosang prostituted… and now us, circus captivated tigers…” he said as his whole body shook as he cried. 

“Wooyoung he said how… you wrote about hybrid rights, but I thought it was an act” he confessed and I sighed. “What would you do if you were ever given a second chance–” “I don’t deserve it. I’ll suffer the rest of my life like I was born to,” he said and it made me freeze.  Did he really believe that?

“I’m sorry, y/n. I wish you never met me” 

I walked out and I immediately hugged Kun. 

“Does he really believe that?” I asked and he sighed. “Maybe I judged him a little harshly. Maybe I was a bit biased that he almost killed you in particular,” he said and I nodded. “Do you want to see San now?” he asked and I nodded… I was worried about how he’d react. I was led to an area where the hybrids had no privacy. They were allowed to do the danger to themselves. We stopped at a kennel… San. 

“San, you have a visitor,” Kun said and he looked up and saw me. “y/n!!” he yelled with a big grin on his face. “Hi, Sannie,” I said and he smiled… until his eyes wandered to my jaw. “I’m okay, how have you been?” I said, trying to get his attention. 

“I did that to you…” he said, confusing me. “What?” I asked. “I didn’t mean to hurt you… I love you, you're the only one who cares about me” he said as he put his head down almost in shame.

“San… this wasn't you” I explained and he looked at me confused. “Do you remember Hongjoong?” I asked and his eyes darkened “He hurt you!” he yelled now angry. 

He lost any recollection of time…

“San… who am I?” I asked him and he looked at me shocked. “What do you mean? Why would I forget you? You're… my mate” he said, unsure of himself. 

“San… please get better”

“Please stop crying,” Kun said as I cried in his office. He wasn’t sure of anything… What does he even think of me? Of Wooyoung… of Yeosang?

“You should get back home… you need rest” he said and I shook my head. “But San… what if he forgets I was here–” “He hasn’t… he’s pacing his room muttering your name. Give him time to finally think for himself,” he said and I was satisfied with that answer. 

“I… I was never meant to own hybrids, was I?” I asked and he shook his head. “You're an amazing owner… you’ve rescued them at their worst and given them a second chance. Give him time” he said and I didn’t know if I believed him. 

“How’s… Hongjoong?” I asked and he sighed. “Are you sure you want to take him with you? He needs to be tested and analyzed first… I need to see if he can go down to at least an orange” he asked and I nodded. “Can I see him before I leave?” I asked and he nodded, leading me out of his office and to Hongjoong again. 

I entered again with the button and went in front of his kennel. I waited for the metal curtain to open and he was right where I last saw him.

“You’re… back? You are real… you’re alive” he said and I smiled. “Hello, Hongjoong,” I said and he looked at me confused and… scared. 

“Improve… you're still my responsibility. So when you go down to an orange, you can live a life like Seonghwa. Or… I can pay for your freedom”

I went back home. 

I cried to Wooyoung all night. Seonghwa and Yeosang were worried but I wanted to be with Wooyoung. He has been here since the beginning. 

He… somehow convinced San to trust me and now it was gone. It felt empty with San.

“Why won’t you tell me what's got you like this?” Wooyoung asked me and I could only tighten my grip on his body. I didn’t want him to leave… 

“I made breakfast… I’m sorry Wooyoung but–” “She needs to eat, thanks hyung” 

I was suddenly lifted up to my bed. “You need to eat… then you can get dressed and see him again. That's what you need right now” he said and I couldn’t stop the tears spilling.

“Angels aren’t supposed to cry…” I heard as I saw Yeosang. “Eat, please for me,” Wooyoung asked and I listened. I didn’t know what to do…

“What happened yesterday?” he asked and I sighed as I picked at the food on the plate in front of me. “San… his memory is all over the place. He thinks he attacked me… then I reminded him it was Hongjoong and he turned angry… and he could barely tell me who I was” I confessed and they sighed.

“I also gave Hongjoong the option of living here again–” “No!” Yeosang said and I smiled. “Trust me… he doesn’t seem bad. Besides… I also gave him the option for his freedom” I said and they looked at me confused. 

“I… can get in contact with a surgeon to make him look human. I can find him an identity and give him enough for a fresh start” I said and they looked at me shocked. 

“Those surgeries are low survival–” “That's mainly because they don’t have enough money… I would have to ask a hefty favor to Taeyong but I can get in contact with a good surgeon, and pay them enough to make sure he was okay” I said and they looked at me… concerned. 

“Seonghwa, if you wanna go with him–” “No… I don't want to be human. I’d rather live here if you'd let me,” he said and I smiled. “The offer will always stand… for any of you,” I said and Yeosang and Wooyoung shook their heads. 

“We’re happy with you” 

I was back here… 

I was in front of Hongjoong’s kennel. The curtains raised up and he was pacing almost like he was waiting. “Hi, Hongjoong!” I said trying to offer a grin despite how drained I felt. 

“No offense but it looks like you haven't slept,” he said and I chuckled. “I haven’t… have you decided or need more time?” I asked and he sighed. 

“Seonghwa… is he happy?” he asked and I didn’t know. “I gave him the option to be free like I could do for you… but he declined '' I said and he smiled. “Why are you offering me so much? Thank you for helping Seonghwa… you can give him everything but why are you doing this for me?” he asked and I shrugged. 

“You deserve a chance…” I said and he shook his head. “I don’t,” he said and I tried to offer him a smile. “I could’ve killed you” he cried out. “San… he hates humans you know?” I said and he looked at me confused. 

“He… hated me. Said I only adopted him to abuse him… I admit my reason for adopting him wasn’t too great. When I first saw him I was captivated… but I learned that he couldn’t be adopted because of his past and his code. So I took my chance and did what I could… but he never did trust me. So he yelled… and he taunted me. He hurt me a little bit but he accidentally knocked over a vase I had to push him out of the way so he didn't get hurt. I… got better and went to make sure he was okay but he didn’t want me to be his owner” I explained and he looked at me painfully confused. 

“He loves you… I may have tormented you and planted lies but the way he looks at you… he really does love you” he confessed and I smiled softly. 

“Overtime… he trusted me. He made me his mate… he's important to me” I said, trying not to cry. “Is he okay?” he asked and I couldn’t answer. “Hongjoong, I gave him a second chance too. So… what do you wish for? Freedom or… live with me?” I asked and he sighed. 

“Does… Seonghwa hates me?” he asked and I knew he valued his companion a lot. “He doesn’t… I gave him the option too, you know?” I asked and he chuckled. “He chose to stay with you, I know that for sure,” he said and I smiled softly. 

“I… want to give you a second chance too, and I want to redeem myself” 

While Hongjoong was getting checked out, I was led to San. 

He was staring at me once I came to view… his tail swishing behind him. He was still so pretty… and I loved him so much. 

“You're… y/n. I hated you… then I trusted you… then I loved you” he said and I felt my eyes widen. “I hurt you… then I met, Yeosang?” he asked me and I shook my head. “Wooyoung,” I said and he nodded. “The fox… he had a pathetic crush on you,” he said, making me laugh softly. Kun was beside me… he also looked confused. 

“Yeosang… his owner abused him? He’s… friends with Wooyoung. Doberman and Fox” he said… he was concentrating on facts. “You… adopted two dogs?” he asked while looking at me and I shook my head. “Uhm… cats?” he asked and I shook my head again. “They're from the circus– Tigers!” he yelled and I smiled. “One of them… hurt you,” he said and I nodded. 

“How long… have you left us here?” he asked me with a sad tone. 

“San… I came back for you as soon as I could.” I said and he nodded. “What happened to you? Why do you have those big bandages on your face?” he asked and I slid. “I was in a coma for a long time,” I said and he let out a breathy sigh. 

“Hongjoong’s claws cut a bit too deep into my skin… so I have bandages on. I woke up the day before yesterday” I explained and he nodded. “I trust you… I know you're my mate and I know I love you my head just hurts” he explained and I nodded. He was gonna be like this for a while… 

“But I… just wanna go with you. Please don’t leave me here again”

“San!” Wooyoung yelled as he tackled the panther who tensed up. “This is Wooyoung… the fox you met,” I said as I pulled Wooyoung away from him. San nodded and I could see their confused faces of what was happening.

“He’s mated to you too,” San muttered as he pulled me to him.

“Do you not remember us?” Wooyoung asks and San shakes his head. “Dissociative amnesia is what they're calling it… in his case it's because of an event that causes his brain to go into shock. Kun says in his case he should be able to regain memory with everyday activities but… we should also be prepared if he doesn’t” I said and I could see the worry on Wooyoung and Yeosang’s faces as well as the guilt in Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

“I hope we can get along” 

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[echobx]

It's... complicated?- Rafe Cameron × polyam!reader & JJ Maybank × polyam!reader

summary: you're in a relationship with Rafe, but a one night stand with JJ turns into more and suddenly you find yourself entangled in a relationship that you don't plan on getting out of any time soon

general warnings: cheating, angst, fluff, smut, swearing, lying, reader being a bitch, talk of marriage angst warnings: mention of death, downward spiral, self-doubt, fighting (verbally), fighting (physically), traumatized reader smut warnings: p in v (unprotected), oral (f & m receiving), 3 way, cnc, creampie/cumdump, spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, (heavy) pda, subdrop adjacent, aftercare, foreplay, toy use (not primarily), overstimulation

word count: 19k

author's note: this started as a Rafe fic but immediately my brain fucked me over and then I was too deep to change it so I kept it and decided to explore the throuple idea. I wanted to not have it be cheating plot but I couldn't figure out how to do that while keeping the set dynamic, so I hope you're gentle with me on that :) I genuinely hope you enjoy it, it's the longest one part one shot I've ever written lol (p.s. I wanted to do dvp here but I couldn't find an appropriate place for it, but if you want it, I can write it separately)

“Can you maybe not do lines on my boobs tonight? Last time you got some on my vintage Chanel dress and I haven't managed to get it out yet,” you ask Rafe while leaning in the door of his room, watching him get ready.  “I'll just buy you a new one,” he shrugs and buttons his shirt up. “That's not the point, babe, and you know it,” you shake your head, swaying your perfect curls. “It's also vintage, and you can't just buy a new one. Besides, I paid for it, not you.”  “You mean your dad paid for it?” he eyes you with a smirk playing on his pink lips.  “Nope, pretty sure that it counts for me now,” you smile, faking it as per usual when the topic of your dad comes up. “Dead people can't pay for shit.”  He steps over to you, tilting your chin up and kissing you. “Let's not talk about him. Instead, we can go and have fun, all right?” 

“Eugh, whose house is this?” you scoff as he stops the car in the driveway. The mansion isn't even half the size of your own, and it makes you feel a little disappointed.  “Hey, be nice,” Rafe smiles and takes your hand up to kiss it before getting out and opening your door for you.  “I am always nice,” you tell him, but he knows it's a lie. Your way of being nice is what other people would call bitchy or bossy. You aren't nice like people want you to be, not since your dad has died. He was the only one who you had tried your best for.  “You know I love to see your claws out, but I have to sell shit tonight, so none of that, please,” Rafe begged, his arm tight around your waist.  You roll your eyes and look up at him, “fine.” 

The party is already going, and a few people greet you while walking in. You find Topper and Kelce rather quickly, taking your seat next to Rafe you let your eyes wander as they talk.  “You know, you guys are boring as fuck,” you groan after having had to listen to them talk about golfing for twenty minutes straight.  “Since when are we here for your entertainment, y/n,” Kelce scoffs, but he gulps as you get up and lean over him.  “Maybe you should suck a dick to fix your fucking attitude,” you snarl and walk away towards the kitchen. You never cared what Rafe's friends thought of you, you never cared what anybody thought of you. 

“Look what the cat dragged in,” you roll your eyes at the blonde boy, who's leaning against the counter. His ring clad fingers are holding onto the solo cup, but the flirtatious smile is just for you. You had gathered as much over time.  “One day, you'll beg, y/l/n,” he says and takes a sip.  “Not if I make you beg first, Maybank,” you smirk and take the bottle of tequila to fill two shot glasses.  “I never beg,” he counters, and you laugh.  “Oh, I'd bet my BMW you do.”  “Does Rafe?”  “I won't tell you that, you'd just go runnin’round tellin’ people,” you poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue and hold the shot out for him to take. “Be happy that I'm keeping him on a leash. He'd have ripped your head off by now if I didn't.”  You watch him take the shot, and follow. The slight burn in your throat wakes you up, and the warmth in your stomach is familiarly cozy.  “And why would he do that?” JJ asks, tilting his head to the side.  “‘Cause you won't stop staring at my tits, Maybank,” you bite your lip and take the step over to him, leaning in and whispering into his ear. “I know how you look at me, as if I'm the ultimate price. But you wouldn't even be able to handle me on your best days, pretty boy.”  “You underestimate me, princess,” he whispers, and you pull away to look at him fully.  “Maybe in another life, Maybank,” you wink at him, grabbing the bottle of tequila and making your way back to the couch. 

“What he want?” Rafe asks as soon as you get back and take your seat by his side.  “Nothing,” you sigh and kiss Rafe's cheek, leaving a lipstick mark behind. He doesn't need to know how much it riles you up when JJ flirts with you. How much you have to suppress the need to kiss him whenever you see him. It doesn't even make sense why it is like that.  JJ and you have nothing in common, and you are happy about that.  You love being in a relationship with Rafe. You don't care much about love anyway, so why would you need to love the person you are in a relationship with if they are perfect on paper? Rafe is everything your dad had wanted in a future son-in-law. He comes from good money, takes care of the people close to him, and knows how to act around money. You don't need to love him to build a good future with him. After all, your grandparents had done it the same way. And when you look at your own parents' life together, you keep wondering if it had really been the wisest decision to marry for love.  No, love was overrated, and so was whatever you felt when JJ looked at you. 

“You sell any yet?” you ask straight out, and Rafe clears his throat and gives you a look that doesn't really make sense to you. “What?”  “You know they won't buy shit when you're here, unless you act it,” he whispers to you and you roll your eyes.  “Fine, but only one,” you cave, and for the next few hours you play the dumb girlfriend. For some reason, all of his buyers are some type of misogynistic asshole, and the only one who you could talk to without feeling looked down on is Barry. But Barry never gets invited to the parties, because he doesn't fit in.  To you, he's not much different than the businessmen your dad had worked with, the same ones you would have to deal with once you were officially taking over the company. 

“Baby, c’mere,” Rafe claps on his thighs, and you turn to straddle him, giving him a single warning glance to not fuck up.  “Love when you use my tits for it, babe,” you giggle stupidly, but internally you feel like throwing up. And it just gets worse when he puts a little line of the fine powder on your skin and dips his head down to snort it off. Your eyes cross with JJ's as soon as Rafe's head is down, and he vanishes from your vision the moment Rafe comes back up, wiping his nose.  “Thank you, baby,” he smiles and kisses you. It's a show. When you moan into him and buck your hips; and for once you're not sure if the show is for his clients, or for the blonde Pogue who can't keep his eyes off of you.  “I wanna go upstairs,” you whisper to Rafe and he nods.  “Just gimme ten and I'll meet you there.” 

You get up and walk off, towards the stairs. A quick glance back to Rafe, who's focused on counting money, before you take the stairs, downstairs instead of up.  You decide to take a look around. The pool is a perfect 80 °F and if you had swimming stuff with you, you'd consider swimming for a while. Training a little to clear up your mind.  “Didn't you tell him you'd be upstairs, waiting?” You hear JJ behind you and turn around.  “And? I changed my mind. He doesn't care if he fucks me here or at home,” you shrug and JJ shakes his head.  “God, you really are something.”  “What do you want, Maybank?” you sneer, walking around the pool towards the sauna at the end of the room. The sound of your heels on the concrete floor echoes through the huge room.  “Why are you with him if you hate him so much?” he asks and starts walking closer, following you.  “I don't hate him. I hate his friends, anyone but Barry, basically. I hate how he acts around them. But I don't hate him,” you clarify, and JJ nods.  “But you don't love him.”  “Who needs love anyway,” you smile. The picture-perfect smile you had practiced in front of the mirror since you were 12, the same one you had to relearn when your dad had died. It was an ironclad mask.  “I forgot, you don't have a heart,” JJ smiles but drops it instantly.  “Tell me what you want, or leave,” you roll your eyes at him and he steps closer. Your heart starts racing as he leans over you, brushing a curl from your face and tucking it behind your ear.  “What do you want?” he rasps quietly and your eyes flutter, it's a reflex, and you don't know why. You don't understand why he has this effect on you.  “Nothing,” you press out, and his thumb ghosts your lips.  “I don't like when you lie to me, y/n,” JJ whispers, and you can't stop yourself from getting lost in his blue eyes. They are so different from Rafe's. JJ's eyes are bright and hopeful, they feel like happiness entrapped to you. And you can't stand it, because this isn't how it's supposed to be.  “Tell me what you want,” he demands, leaning down to smell your neck, his nose brushing against your skin and giving you goosebumps.  “It’s neither appropriate nor allowed,” you hush, and he chuckles.  "Since when do you care about any of that? You make the rules on this side of the island, don't you, princess?” 

You blame it on the tequila when your lips find his. You blame it on the daiquiri when he leads you into the cold supply closet, without pulling out of your kiss. You would blame it on the coke, when he pushes your dress up and sinks into you; but you hadn't had any coke that night. 

“Fuck, you're so wet for me, baby,” JJ groans, he had sat you down on a lower shelf, and you did your best to hold onto the metal structure that was pressing into your back.  “Shut up and kiss me, asshole,” you gasp, and he does just that. His kisses are wet and sloppy, just like his fast thrusts. But you can't stop kissing him, not only because it feels like heaven and hell combined. But mainly because you know you'd be screaming by the way his cock keeps kissing your cervix.  “You're so good at taking it, princess. Fuck, you feel so good,” JJ moans, and you can't help but feel pride in how much he seems to love it.  “Look at it,” you demand, and he dips his head, focusing on where you are connected. Your slip tucked to the side, but it's ruined anyway, it had been from the moment on he had started to flirt with you.  “What's that say,” JJ asks, his thumb rubbing over your tattoo, making you smirk.  “Eat me, Maybank. It says, eat me,” you moan, and he grins.  “Next time, princess,” he growls and starts rubbing your clit in harsh circles. You don't understand how he does it, but he has you moaning even louder, and clenching around his cock in the matter of minutes. The band in your stomach is ready to burst, and you don't think you've felt this good ever before. It feels like he's made for you, but you know that can't be the case.  “Cum for me, pretty girl. Soak my dick,” JJ breathes into your ear, and as soon as you come undone, he pulls his hand from your clit and shoves his fingers down your throat to shut you up.  You feel afloat and completely dazed when he pulls his fingers out and clasps his hand over your mouth. 

“Shh, quiet,” JJ whispers, and you hear footsteps outside the closet. If someone finds you, you're screwed.  “No, she's not down here either. Check upstairs again, man,” Rafe's annoyed voice carries through the door, and you stare at JJ. You're not scared of what might happen to you if Rafe found out, but more so that he'd finally snap and actually hurt JJ like he had threatened so many times before.  Rafe is still outside the door when JJ decides to start fucking you again, and your eyes roll back uncontrollably. He knows how badly you want to make a sound for him, but you can't let yourself.  As soon as his footsteps carry Rafe back upstairs, you let out a loud groan, pulling JJ into a kiss and purposely squeezing his dick just to prove to him that you're the one in charge. And when his hips stutter, and he spills out inside of you, you don't even mind it. You like the feeling, especially when he keeps fucking it into you, muttering incoherently about how good he fucked you. 

“Do you always praise yourself after?” you ask him after having pulled your dress back down.  “Do you always cheat on your boyfriend with Pogues?” he smirks, and you push him back against the shelf.  “If anyone finds out about this, you are dead, you understand? Either you shut up, and hope for a second time, or I can ruin your life. I don't need Rafe to do it for me, I can do it all by myself. Do you understand?” You poke into his chest and he nods.  “Good,” you take a step back again, and he grabs for your chin, pulling you close again.  “I have one question, princess. Has he ever fucked you raw?”  “I don't trust him enough for that,” you reply, and JJ snorts.  “Why'd you let me, then?”  “You don't sleep around as much as you pride yourself, Maybank. I mean, you're not bad, but- Well, it all comes down to the circles you run in and the ones you don't,” you give him a mean smile and open the door to go look for a bathroom. 

“How do you plan on not letting him find out if he never-”  “I told you, he does what I say. If I say no, he's not getting any,” you tell him and turn a corner towards the bathroom.  “You really got him wrapped around your finger,” JJ laughs.  “You too,” you grin before sitting down to pee, you don't care that he is standing right next to you.  “Didn't you literally call Cally R. disgusting for insinuating that she doesn't mind peeing in her boyfriend's presence?” JJ laughs.  “First of all,” you say while finishing up and standing. “Cally R. is a lying slut, the only reason why she keeps having to piss in front of her boyfriend is because she can't get rid of her std. And why doesn't it go away? Well, because little miss piss queen keeps on fucking Tyler Folly on the side. Calling her disgusting was the kindest thing I could do to her.”  “And the second reason?” JJ cocks his brow up.  “You're not my boyfriend, Maybank. And getting rid of your shit inside me, is kinda necessary unless you want me ending up like Cally,” you give him a threatening smile, and he holds his hands up in defense. “Good.”  “I'm just wondering if it's not hypocritical, with the whole fucking on the side and all,” he mumbles before wetting a towel and trying to remove the red lipstick marks from his face.  “I don't claim to love my boyfriend, and Rafe never claimed to love me. He thinks we have an open relationship on his side. I don't see why it can't be open on both,” you shrug and pull the lipstick from your bra to reapply it.  “Was I- was I better?” JJ mumbles, rubbing his hand over the nape of his neck.  “Could you choose between your two favorite types of food?” you ask, and he starts to grin.  “You know, that's a weird metaphor.”  “Simile,” you correct him, and he exhales a laugh.  “You're a real smartass, y/l/n.”  “And you can be glad you're pretty.”  “Pretty enough to fuck your brains out,” JJ turns you towards him and leans over, his lips ghosting yours and when he pulls back you exhale a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. “See,” he smirks.  “If you want to do it again you can't fuck around, and most importantly you won't tell a soul. But then again, who would even believe you,” you scoff and turn around to leave, taking the stairs and vanishing in the crowd before anyone had noticed where you had come from. 

“Where were you? I was looking all over,” Rafe sounds concerned and hugs you, out of courtesy, surely. Rafe rarely hugs you unless you ask for it, or the social obligations call for it.  “Just here and there, I went upstairs and forgot why. I'm sorry, babe,” you tell him, and he lets it go.  “Hey, y/n, wanna play a game with us?” Topper asks, and you turn to look at the group of people gathered, your eyes get stuck on JJ for just a second before they snap back to Top.  “Sure,” you smile and push Rafe into a chair, sitting down sideways on his lap. 

It's a dumb drinking game, just like always. It stays rather boring until Topper's new girlfriend gets to speak, and you instantly regret your choice to take part.  “Never have I ever had sex with someone in this room,” she giggles and falls back down into Top before they each take a sip of their drinks.  You take a sip, focusing on Rafe, but Rafe is staring right across from where the two of you are sitting.  “Why does Maybank keep staring at you,” he whispers in your ear and you shrug.  “He's a creep, you know that, babe,” you try to calm your boyfriend down, but you know it's not gonna help much. 

“Never have I ever cheated,” JJ says and takes a drink, but the chatter went mute as soon as the words left him. “I thought we were being honest, guys. God, you guys really are some Kooks,” he laughs and stands up to leave. His eyes are yet again fixed on you, but this time you can't force yourself to look away.  “Maybe cheating is just a Pogue quality,” you say, and a few silent mumbles seem to agree with your lie.  “You must know all about that, princess,” JJ smirks and tips his non-existent cap to you before turning and walking away, out of the house and into the darkness.  “He’s so weird,” Topper's girlfriend lets out a disgusted grunt.  “Was he even invited?” Topper asks and I roll my eyes.  “They don't check invitations at the entrance, stupid,” you laugh it off. “He probably stole something,” someone out of the crowd suggested, and you stood up in a light fit of anger, before you realized that you couldn't act on it.  “What would he steal here? Cheap candles from Target?” you scoff and walk off. “Rafe!” you call out, and he takes a moment before he meets you outside by the car. 

“I didn't wanna go home yet,” he complains.  “And? You have to drive me home. After that, you can do whatever the fuck you want,” you scoff at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest.  “What's up with you?” he snorts, opening the door for you and letting you get in.  “I'm tired and annoyed by these people who think they're better than anyone else, just because their dad's play golf and fuck their secretaries,” you mutter, and he stops asking, dropping you off at your house and driving off as soon as you are inside. 

Weeks go by in which you don't even see a glimpse of JJ. You manage to push the memory so far back into your brain that you don't even dream of it, well, not as often.  And when Rafe fucks you, it's good, it's great, but you don't feel as complete after as you had with JJ. 

“Best pussy in the fucking world,” Rafe groans as he pounds into you from behind. Your face is pressed into the duvet and your ass is high up in the air. He had been stretching you out for what felt like hours. It was good, he hit every single spot inside of you perfectly, but you couldn't get yourself to cum.  “Would be so much better without it, baby,” Rafe rasps, and you're not really listening, just nodding and groaning in response to whatever he's saying.  Before you can actually register what is happening, he has pulled out and slammed into you again, but it feels different. You can feel him more clearly, every single vein on his thick cock, the soft tip that kept nudging your cervix as he went deeper.  “Fuck, I love you, I love this pussy so much,” Rafe moans and without a single warning he cums inside you, filling you up and clouding your mind. You gasp, close to an orgasm but not yet there and if he'd just- but he pulls out and you all you can feel is used.  “Shit, did you not,” he pulls you into him, having fallen into the sheets by your side, but you put on a smile.  “It's okay. Next time,” you tell him and get up to clean yourself up. You curse yourself for losing yourself in your thoughts about JJ instead of paying attention to what your boyfriend had said to you. And now you had two guys thinking they could fuck you over anyway they wanted.

“Are you okay?” Rafe asks as you leave the bathroom wrapped in your robe.  “Yeah, just next time, maybe warn me beforehand. Probably would've been better if we had both finished,” you say and roll your eyes while your back is turned to him.  “Why are you getting dressed?”  “I have to buy q tips, we don't have any left,” you lie and he scoffs.  “You could just ask the help to go buy some, and I could make it up to you. Come on, baby,” he slaps the empty bed to his left, but you shake your head.  “I just need some air, all right.”  “Fine. But text me so I know you're okay,” he sighs and gets up to take a shower. 

You basically run out of the house, jumping in your car and driving off towards the Cut before you realize you don't even know where to go.  You pull out your phone and scroll down a long list of contacts before you find his number, saved under three Xs to remind you to never text him, but here you are, doing just that.  “Where are you?” you type out and hit send, a second later a text appears on your screen.  “why?”  “Tattoo” is all you say, but the three small dots stay for a while and then they vanish. You are about to curse him out when a text pops up.  “you know the Château?” “Routledge?” “yes” You put your phone away and start driving again. Maybe you'd have to thank Topper's weird obsession with Sarah for knowing where the house was, but you really couldn't. 

As soon as you arrive, you kill the engine and jump out of your jeep, stomping towards the porch.  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Kiara sneers at you, but you don't pay her any attention. You grab JJ's hand and drag him into the house.  “That's the wrong way,” he chuckles and holds you back from going deeper into the house, pulling you to the side and into a small bedroom.  “Tell me what's wrong,” he asks, wanting to hold onto you, but you brush him off.  “He said he loved me,” you yell at JJ even though it's not his fault, nor can he do anything about it.  “And that's bad?” he raises his eyebrows at you and you huff.  “Yes. Yes, it is. You don't fuck someone, not let them fucking finish and then tell them you love them,” you hiss quietly, not wanting his friends to be able to hear it all.  “I see. I can help with one of those,” JJ smirks and pulls you into a kiss. A kiss that makes you forget why you even came over. Like a snip of his finger, he had erased all the bad thoughts and feelings inside of you, replacing them with warmth and desire.  “They didn't believe me,” he whispers against your lips before bringing them into another kiss. You pull on his shirt, and he takes it off.  “Told you they wouldn't,” you smile and take your own shirt off before starting to fumble with his shorts.  “Now they have to,” JJ chuckles and pushes his pants down, leaving the boxers on. 

He pushes you onto the bed, kissing you all over, especially focusing on your tits, and you nearly cum just from that. His skilled tongue toys with your nipple while his hand squeezes the other tit mercilessly.  “You have the best tits, baby,” JJ moans against your skin, squeezing them another time before trailing his lips down the valley of your breasts and over your stomach to the hem of your jeans shorts.  “Are you sure?” he asks while looking up at you, but the way he's lying between your legs is godly. His unruly hair is hanging into his face, his lips slightly parted in a mischievous smile.  “I'll go ask one of the others if you don't want to,” you tease him, and he nips at your hips. “Don't ever suggest that shit again, princess.”  “Noted, but only if your tongue’s as good as your dick,” you smirk.  JJ takes his time taking off your shorts, teasing you and edging you on, and you want to drown in the feelings he can so easily conjure in you.  “You smell different,” he notes and presses his nose against your slip. “I'm not gonna do this when you smell like him.”  “I told you,” you sit up on your elbows and look at his disgusted face.  “You didn't say he fucked you raw. That's different, and you know it,” JJ complained and sat back up.  “I don't see the problem. It's an easy fix,” you shrug and pull him closer by his neck. Your lips press against his until you have him lying underneath you. 

“See, easy,” you grin down at him, pulling his boxers down just enough to let his hard cock spring free.  “Aren't you pretty,” you whisper to his pink tip, placing a kiss on it and tasting his salty precum.  “If you do that again, I'm busting a nut. You gotta warn a guy,” he laughs nervously.  “Cute,” you giggle and lift yourself up, pulling your slip to the side and brushing his throbbing tip through your aching slit. You let out a sigh of relief as you sink down on him, the familiarity makes you feel better instantly.  Fucking JJ is easy, it's messy, it's freeing.  You don't mind that he can't keep himself from cumming when you do, because he's ready instantly as if it never had happened.  You claw at his chest while you bounce on him, screaming of pleasure and not caring who can hear you.  Your pussy sounds obscenely wet, and can feel the mix of your many releases spill out of you and onto him. But JJ doesn't care as long as you keep fucking yourself with his dick, he doesn't even mind having to take over when you get a cramp in your leg.  He's moaning and cursing worse than you, calling you all kinds of dirty things, but mostly he's showering you with compliments, which turns you on even more than you had ever thought.  And when he finally pulls out, your pussy is still clenching, pushing out all of his and your cum. 

“Would you look at that, princess. We should definitely not clean you up and send you back home just like that, show him who's actually better at fucking this pretty pussy.” JJ says and takes two fingers to push his cum back into you.  “J, please,” you beg him to stop. You are overstimulated and sore, so sore you feel like you might not be able to walk properly the next few days.  “Oh, but we haven't even done what you promised me, princess. You wouldn't let a poor guy starve, would you?” JJ gives you a pout and moves back to kiss your swollen cunt. A jolt goes through your body as he does it another time.  “You taste so sweet, baby,” he moans into you, his hands massaging your thighs; tongue dipping into your hole and nose brushing against your clit.  You moan and mewl as he slowly kisses and licks you to your orgasm, you can't even remember how many you've had that day, but what you do know is that the last one was the best one. 

“Where'd you learn to use your tongue like that?” you ask him out of breath as he's lying next to you.  “Natural talent, y/l/n,” JJ boasts and turns his head to kiss you, twisting his tongue with yours and then pulling you closer. His hand is harshly gripping your thigh, pulling your leg over his own; while your own hands are entangled in his hair. There's a sense of security in the way he kisses you, like you know he won't leave even if you'd tell him to.  “JJ-” you try to pull away, but his lips keep on chasing yours, even when you try to get his attention by biting him. So, you pull on his hair, holding his head in place and making him whine with it.  “S’unfair,” he murmurs.  “I have to go home, it's late,” you remind him.  “You could stay, I could show you how much better I am at morning sex,” JJ tries to convince you, but you know it's impossible.  You let go of his head and twirl a strand of his hair in between your fingers. “It's a charming proposal, but you know I can't. He'll come looking for me, and we don't want that to happen, do we?”  “I’ll let you go if you answer me one question.”  You roll your eyes at his antics, but agree to it anyway. “Deal, dumbass,” you smile. “Why’d you text me?” JJ whispers, and you sigh, turning around to look at the ceiling.  “I don't know,” you lie.  “I think you do, you're just lying to yourself if you say anything else. Because I wouldn't have told you to come by if I didn't feel the same,” he admits and nuzzles his face into your neck.  “It's a polar opposite. And I never thought- It's difficult to know you want a specific thing when you never had it, and once it’s there, it's hard to forget about it. And he won't give me that, I know it,” you explain quietly and JJ kisses your neck in response.  “I would never even consider not letting you cum, baby,” he hushes against your skin, and it gives you goosebumps all over. It's cozy and loving in a way, and it might just scare the life out of you when you realize that you crave this affection he's giving you.  “I have to go,” you press out and jump up, leaving JJ groaning as he runs his hands over his face. You find your clothes pretty quickly and put them back on, while he stays in bed, lying there looking like a Greek god.  “You look severely fuck out. I like it,” he grins, his head propped up on his hand. “Walk of shame material?”  “Nah, nothing to be ashamed of.”  “You know that's not what I meant,” you sigh and leave the room to go look for the bathroom.  “Left,” JJ calls out, and you turn left, towards the end of the hallway and enter the small bathroom. You don't understand how they can live in such a narrow space, but you know mentioning it will not end well. 

Your curls are standing up in every possible direction and your eyes look extremely tired.  “See, not bad at all,” JJ smirks, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom.  “Do you have a hair tie or something?” you ask, and he steps behind you and pulls a drawer open. You pick out a simple black hair tie that could easily pass as one of your own, and wind your hair into a loose knot.  “Tell me again why I should let you go back to that asshole?” JJ asks, laying his chin on your shoulder.  “One, because he's not an asshole, and two, because he's gonna kill you. I don't want to see you dead, you're really good at what you do,” you say while looking at him through the mirror, and the smile on his face gets deeper as you speak.  “The secret side piece,” JJ flashes his brows at you, and you can't stop the light chuckle that leaves you. Charming and sweet and all you should ever want and need- “I really have to go now,” you remind yourself, and he lets go of you. 

When you walk out onto the porch, your eyes meet Sarah's and your heart stops, but you can't let yourself get caught up in it. You know, she hasn't spoken to Rafe in a whole year. She surely won't break that silence just to tell on you.  Your feet quickly move you towards your car, but before you can open your door, you are harshly turned around and pushed against the metal.  JJ kisses you so hard, you wish you could go back inside and do it all over again. His hand is holding onto your neck while the other is gripping your waist. It feels like the best kiss in your entire life, and it awakes something inside of you that you had long thought dead. The tiny flutter in your stomach is as faint as a gust of wind in spring, but you know it's there, and you know it'll just complicate everything else with it. When he pulls away, he does it slowly, leaving an abundance of small, soft kisses on your lips before running his thumb over them.  “She won't tell. None of them will, I promise,” he whispers and you nod, believing him.  “You should go. Didn't know kissing alone could turn a guy on like that.” You smirk innocently as your hand traces over his erection, and he can't even hide it because he hadn't thought about putting on anything more than underwear.  “That's all you,” JJ whispers and kisses you one last time. “Text me,” he says before stepping back and letting you get into your car.  As you drive off, you can see him flipping off his friends before going inside; and then the house, and all of them with it, vanish as you make your way back home. 

“Where were you?” Rafe bludgeons as soon as you get through the door.  “Out. You don't need to know everything, you know?” you snap at him.  “You didn't text and were gone for hours, y/n.”  “Shit, you sound more like my parents then my parents ever did,” you laugh and make your way into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice and downing it in one go.  “Excuse me for giving a fuck,” Rafe barks, and you roll your eyes.  “If you hadn't been selfish, like fucking always, I wouldn't have walked out.”  “I wanted to make it up to you. You left!” he counters and you gulp hard.  “Tell me what you would've done. Something that puts me first for a change or no?” Your blood is boiling and there is nothing that can stop your fit of rage. It had been easier to look past Rafe's selfish tendencies when you hadn't known any better, but now that you do, you can't help but get annoyed at him for it.  “Where's this coming from now?” he laughs, pacing along the room.  “God, why can't you fucking open your eyes! You know, sometimes I fake it just so it's over quicker,” you spit out, but he knows it's a lie, it's the one thing you promised each other to never lie about.  “You never tell me what you want either,” Rafe says, and you hate that it's true.  “Would you do it if I did?”  “I can try,” he raises his shoulders in what feels like defeat to you, but you can't be sure.  “Good,” you glare, but you know it's unnecessary.  “Now?” he asks, somewhat hopeful, but you shake your head.  “Maybe tomorrow, or whenever. I'm tired right now,” you sigh and make your way upstairs to take a bath. 

The hot water is soaking your body, and you close your eyes and let it play out again. How JJ kept kissing you as he fucked you senseless, how his praises worked way better for you than Rafe's degradations. How he had kept looking up at you with his head buried between your legs.  Your hand travels down between your legs, rubbing soft circles on your clit, and it's not enough. Your fingers plunge into your pussy, curling perfectly, but it's not enough. You can't reach, and it frustrates you.  You step out of the tub, dripping wet as you make your way into the bedroom and Rafe doesn't complain when you straddle him. And he complains even less you start to fuck yourself with his dick. It's not something you’ve ever done with him, but he wants to be better for you, and he doesn't mind as long as he gets to fuck you one way or the other.  “Tell me how much you want me,” you moan softly while bouncing on his huge cock. The light stinging feeling his size always causes you just adds to your pleasure.  “You're so fucking hot, fucking me like the slut you are,” Rafe rasps, holding onto your hips.  “No, something nice. Tell me something nice.” You shake your head but keep going anyway.  “Uhm, okay… You're fucking me so well, baby,” Rafe says, but his eyebrows are furrowed until you moan louder.  “Yes, more.”  “I love your tight pussy, baby,” he groans, and you fall down on top of him, kissing him, but it doesn't feel at all like you had hoped. He tastes like whiskey, but you craved the mix of weed and beer. Yet all of your thoughts about it fly out the window when he stops your hips and starts pounding into you from below.  “Faster,” you gasp into him, biting his lip and digging your nails into his shoulders. It's mind-bending, they way he fucks you and his uncontrollable noises turn you on even more. Rafe grunts and moans like you've not heard it before, and you wish you had made him try it earlier. 

“Fuck, baby, tell me you're close,” Rafe moans, and you press your face against his shoulder, feeling the band inside you tighten.  “So close, babe, don't stop,” you cry out and snake a hand down to your clit rubbing harshly and suddenly JJ's words echo in your mind.  “Cum for me, y/n. Be a good girl and let go.” You scream when your orgasm rips through you and Rafe follows just a second later, pushing in deeper and painting your walls in his pretty white.  “Keep going, just a bit,” you instruct him, and he fucks his cum into you with a few more thrusts until you tell him to stop again.  “That was probably the best sex we ever had,” you sigh, still not ready to get up and have him leave you.  “Definitely top ten,” Rafe pants and runs his hand over your back.  “No, definitely the best,” you argue with a smile and he caves.  “All right, the best.” 

After having cleaned up you're back in bed, and cuddled into his side, your head resting on his chest.  “Why didn't you tell me all that earlier? We could've done this already,” he whispers, and you don't know how to come up with a good lie.  “I don't know. Maybe I hoped you'd figure it out on your own one day.”  “It's very different from what we usually do,” Rafe mumbles, brushing over your hair.  “I like how you fuck me, but sometimes I need something for me. I need control too,” you whisper and he kisses your head.  “We can do that.”  “Good.”  “I love you,” Rafe sighs, and you can hear his breath slow as he falls asleep. 

Your dreams are haunted by JJ, always, and you wish you could turn it off. Sometimes Rafe gets to him, other times you see yourself living the Pogue life, as if that was ever something you'd even do as much as consider. But tonight it's different from any other time. 

You are at home, Rafe is sitting at the kitchen island, and JJ is lying on the couch. They are both aware of each other and not actively trying to murder one another. The whole scene makes you incredibly suspicious, but it just gets worse when two blonde children come running in.  “Dad!” one of them yells and both JJ and Rafe pick up their heads.  “What's up?” Rafe asks and gets up from his seat, giving you a loving smile before leaning down to the child and talking to it.  “Well, your friends are pretty fucking stupid for not getting it,” Rafe tells the child and JJ snorts.  “Yeah, what's not to get? My wife has another guy, and we play daddy roulette every single time.”  “Daddy roulette?” you ask and furrow your brows at the two.  “You said it's better to not know. Removes the thing for fighting or whatever,” JJ explains.  “This one, definitely mine,” Rafe points at your stomach, and you look down at yourself to see yourself severely pregnant. Your belly is bigger than you'd ever imagined and it feels even worse.  “Why is it so big?” Your heart starts racing, and you feel like you're about to fall over.  “That's because we're having twins. You got a Maybank and a Cameron in there, baby, just like you love it,” JJ grins and your vision goes blurry. 

“Y/n, will you please stop screaming? I was trying to sleep!” Rafe groans after shaking you awake.  “Sorry,” you mumble and turn away from him.  “Bad dream or what?” he asks.  “You don't have to pretend to care,” you whisper, and he snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest.  “I do care, but I also really need to sleep, baby,” he mumbles and kisses your neck a single time.  “We should just sleep,” you mutter and this time you are allowed to get your few hours of dreamless sleep instead of being haunted by your mistakes. 

Weeks turn into months, and one hookup every other week turns to some every other day.  The more Rafe tries to focus more on you, the more you seem to crave JJ and the lightness of what you have with him.  Like the quick fucks in the Country Club restroom, or the “business meetings” you tell Rafe about. After all, you really don't have a choice, because where Rafe is still reluctant to go down on you, JJ is offering it every single time, even when you are really not capable of cumming another time.  You know it would be technically easy to break up with Rafe, but you can't. You promised your dead father to marry a good man, someone from a good family. And Rafe is exactly what your dad had in mind.  And even if that wasn't the case, you still couldn't, or just don't want to, really.  You like that every girl on the island seems to want what you have, especially with both boys on your leash. You like that people are scared of you, because they know Rafe does what you tell him to, and not because he’s scared, no because he knows it's the best way to live his life. What most people don't know is that although still rich, the Camerons had suffered a dent in their savings, and not a small one. But you, you are secured by a long line of rich assholes. Old money. More than you could ever spend in a lifetime. Which just means that Rafe doesn't have the faintest idea why he should ever leave you. You are his perfect package deal. 

“boat day?” The text from JJ rips you out of your thoughts, and you praise the fact that Rafe has the day packed with meetings.  “sure” you reply quickly and get back to doing your hair.  “I should come pick you up”  “no, you really shouldn't.” You shake your head at his dangerously stupid idea. The boat thing is after all already risky, you don't need to up the chances of anyone finding out. “Will be there in 30.”

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Kiara scoffs as soon as you get out of your car.  “I invited her,” JJ shrugs as if it's nothing special and keeps walking towards the pier.  “You shouldn't get to invite anyone, especially not the Kook bitch who keeps fucking you on the side to get back at her even worse Kook boyfriend,” Kiara complains. “I'm not getting back at anyone,” you smile at her, knowing how much it must enrage her that you keep your cool and calm exterior.  “Just, please be nice, Kie,” JJ yells from afar and you hide your grin.  “John B!” Kiara hollers and walks back into the house, while you keep standing there, leaning against your car. As soon as JJ comes back they all gather on the porch, discussing the matter of your attendance. 

“You know I can hear you, right?” you say loudly after Kiara had called you a slut the third time in a row. “Then why are you still here?” she snaps at you.  You stroll towards the steps that lead up the porch and walk to where they are standing. It's not that you are particularly happy that they are all there too, but you at least have the decency to be nice to them, if not for anything but JJ’s sake.  “I'm interested in what your issue is here,” you ask and Sarah scoffs.  “Maybe that you're a horrible person. Using JJ? Cheating on my brother?”  “Oh, a horse can only be that high,” you smile at her.  JJ tugs on your hand and makes you look at him. “You said you'd be nice.”  “I am nice. I'm not the one calling people slut and whore and what else y'all can come up with for me. But I'm not gonna stand here and hear these insults if they can't even take one back. And for the record that wasn't an insult, it was the truth and y'all know it,” you say and John B runs his hands through his hair, visibly on edge.  “Are you kidding me? You literally insult us all the fucking time,” Kiara spits at you, and you can't help the tiny laugh that escapes you.  “I don't insult Pogues, you guys have it hard enough as is, but… you're not a Pogue, Carrera. I guess that means you're fair game, because that one,” you point at Sarah, “is basically family, as much as I hate to say it, and you don't go against your own.”  “You’re not my family. You'll never be,” Sarah shakes her head.  “Okay,” you roll your eyes at her.  “Can we just-” JJ tries to get control of the conversation, but Kiara stops him.  “No, we can't. If she's here, I'm leaving.”  “Y'all are the worst fucking friends in the world,” you laugh and take a step back, ready to leave. “Incredible.” You turn around and walk back to your car, JJ right behind you. 

“Don't leave, please,” he asks, and you stop in your tracks, turning around on the dirt and looking straight at him.  “I tried, you can't tell me to do more than that. I'm not gonna be called a whore and slut every five fucking minutes. It's appalling how your friends can't even pretend to like me for a few hours, but I'm supposed to do so while also being insulted. I'm not doing that. I'm sorry.” “I'll make it up to you, just don't go,” he begs and you shake your head. “No.” “What do you mean no?”  “I mean, no, because you have nothing to make up to me. They are the ones constantly fucking up. Last time you told them beforehand, and suddenly they all had different plans. They hate me,” you tell him, but he didn't seem to wanna hear it.  “Can we just try and-”  “I did try. Don't force me to do this, J. I can't do this if they can't even manage to not call me names,” you say quietly, and he takes your face in his hands, warm and calloused.  “Will you wait just another few minutes and if I can't fix it, we will go to my place. Sound all right?” His voice is low and raspy, and it's making you wet just a little bit.  “You never invited me to your house before,” you whisper, blushing and pressing your thighs together to try to get rid of the growing desire between them. “It's an equally favorable outcome to the other thing then?”  “More favorable to me,” you smile and lean up to peck his lips. “Use that magical charm of yours,” you whisper and push him back to go talk to his friends. 

Half an hour later you're all sitting on the small boat somewhere in the marsh.  “You want a beer?” JJ asks and hands you a can. “You know how to shotgun, right?”  I can pretend I don't so you can show me,” you smile at him and he laughs.  “That would be cheating.” You grin at him before taking out your keys, plunging a hole in the can and chugging it in a matter of seconds.  “Impressive,” JJ notes before shotgunning his own can and dropping some beer on his sun kissed skin. You don't even think about it when you lean in and kiss the droplets away. Your kisses trail upwards, along his neck until they connect to his mouth, and he kisses you like his life depends on it. His hands come up to hold your face, while yours are in his neck, twirling the hair at the nape of it.  “I should shotgun a few more if this is the new process,” JJ smirks, his forehead leaning against yours.  You blink slowly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and giving him a small nod. “M-hmm,” you hum, and he places another kiss on your lips. 

“Should we, uh, play a game or?” Pope suggests, and you turn to shift your focus away from JJ and towards the people he calls his friends.  “What type of game?” you ask with a genuine interest.  “Truth or dare,” Kiara suggests with a mean smile on her face.  “Who starts?” you ask and give her a polite smile, serving its intended purpose when she rolls her eyes.  “Truth or dare, princess,” JJ asks and turns your head towards him with a simple nudge of his finger.  “Truth,” you whisper.  “Why did you come when I asked?”  “Because I like you,” you gaze into his blue eyes, and he smiles, “for more than the incredible sex also. It's actually pretty fun with you.”  “Definite win on my end,” he whispers.  “Truth or dare… John B,” you say before turning your head to look at him. He gives you a confused look, his eyes jumping between JJ and you.  “Truth,” he shrugs.  “Do you actually hate me or do you just hate me because your girlfriend hates me?” Your smile is sugar sweet, but the glare you give Sarah could definitely make milk curdle.  “I mean, you're a Kook and I don't understand what this is,” he gestures at JJ and you. “But I guess, I don't know you enough to hate you or like you.”  His answer genuinely surprises you because you didn't think he'd be honest and not just say the thing Sarah wanted to hear. 

The game goes back and forth with a few dares and a few harmless truths in between, until it's Sarah's turn, and she glares at you as if she wants to actually kill you.  “Truth or Dare, y/l/n?”  “Dare,” you reply quickly, and her mean smile grows wider.  “Call Rafe and tell him where you are,” she demands. “It's 2:30pm, he's in a meeting. I'm not gonna call him during a meeting just because of a stupid game,” you scoff and laugh at her stupid dare.  “How do you know he's in a meeting right this second?” she hits back at you, and you can't help but laugh even more, but you catch yourself and answer a bit more seriously. “I have his schedule memorized. That's what you do when you're a good girlfriend.”  “A good girlfriend wouldn't cheat!” she screams at you. “You think he doesn't? That's a pretty narrow-minded way to look at it, sis.” You know the new nickname has her boiling, and the little sadistic part of your brain loves to see it. “And you don't get to talk about cheating, everyone is aware of your timeline errors.”  “I never loved Topper,” she defends herself, as if it makes her morally superior to you. “And I don't love Rafe, but you at least had a fucking choice because your shitty life was never bound to you marrying whoever your parents pick so you ‘get to’ inherent what would rightfully be yours anyway. So don't fucking tell me what to do with my life, because everyone else has always done it too, and they had more legitimacy for it,” you yell at her, unintentionally spilling more of your secrets than you had initially wanted to, and they all go quiet. The only thing you can hear after you're done is a few frogs, the birds close by, the waves crashing against the boat and your heart pounding in your chest.

JJ pulls you in closer and hugs you while placing soft, calming kisses on your neck.  “I wanna go home,” you whisper to him, tired of having had to pretend, even if it had just been for an hour.  “Let me talk to them. I promise it's gonna get better,” he says and gets up.  There's no doubt in your mind that it won't. Yet you don't understand why you keep giving him, and with it, them, one chance after the other, when you wouldn't usually give anyone even a second chance. You look out onto the water, your legs propped up, arms around them and your head lying on your knees. You think back to the last night you had with your dad, before he had died in a horrible car crash. T-boned by a drunk driver who hadn't seen a red light. You think about how you had tried to convince him to change his mind, that you could run the company without a man by your side, that you were good enough. But all your pleas had fallen on deaf ears. And your mom isn't any better. She decided to stay away, vacating in Palm Beach and only coming home every other month to make sure you are still alive. She deals with grief like that. By sunbathing and drinking and pretending like everything is fine and perfect and not at all in shambles.  Instead, you decided to close off your heart, and that worked for nearly two years until JJ decided to charm his way into it. You don't like it, the thought of feeling all this pain again. Or worse, to know once you let yourself love, the pain will be inevitable. People leave one way or the other, that's how life has always been and how it always will be. 

“Hey,” John B rips you out of your head, and you don't even turn to look at him as he sits down next to you.  “What do you want?” you say in the meanest way you can conjure, but it still sounds pathetic.  “I'm sorry about your dad, I know he died a few years back. I, uhm, I just wanted to say I understand how hard it can be to live up to their expectations, especially after they-”  “I don't need your pity, Routledge,” you snap and look at him. “You don't know anything about me. You don't have to pretend to care.”  “I was just trying to help,” he apologizes and gets up again. 

Your mind wanders back to the night, to the pain. It's scarily easy to revisit that memory. Seeing yourself standing over the table in the morgue, having to identify that, “yes, that's my dad,” because your mother had broken down as soon as the message had come through. You were keeping yourself together for her, for everyone around you who came with their condolences and expected a consolation prize for caring the bare minimum. You remember taking the ring from his cold, stiff finger. You remember having to pick out the casket, the suit, the food, where and when and how and-  You feel like your lungs are empty, like you had stopped breathing air, but pain and desperation instead. Tears are building in your eyes. You can't blink, can't let them run, can't let anyone see you cry, especially not these people. The only one who has gotten to see you cry ever, apart from your parents, is Rafe. And maybe you are aware that you can't leave him because he knows the part of you that you try so hard to keep hidden. Because he was the only one caring for you when everyone else was solely relying on you.  And now you are hurting him, in a way you never thought you would, but you can't help it, you're too far in it now. You need to tell him, needed two months ago, but you hadn't, because you were scared of breaking his heart. Because you know telling him might mean losing the one good and secure thing you had going for yourself. Maybe you never considered it love, because it doesn't look like the love from the movies and books you basically inhaled in your early teens. Maybe you do have a childish outlook on love after all, because whatever connects you and Rafe goes deeper than that. 

“You okay?” JJ asks, standing over you, and you muster a faint smile for him.  “I just really wanna go home now, I'm sorry,” you apologize for it, although you know you're not the only one at fault for it. You're soft for him, because he needs it, because you need it in a way. But it's so different from Rafe and you don't know if you can survive without either of them. If you could, you'd put them in a blender and get the perfect boyfriend out of it. But life isn't a fairy tale. “It's okay,” he smiles and kisses your forehead before turning to the steering wheel and starting the engine. 

As soon as you're back at the Château you get off the boat and basically run towards your car. If not for JJ, you wouldn't even think twice about ever coming back. But this was his second home, his happy place.  “Hey, y/n, wait a sec,” JJ calls after you and you stop to turn around.  “I don't care if they like me, J, but I'm not gonna be able to do this again. Not like this. I really want to, for you, but if they can't bring up the same amount of- They need to try too, all of them, and not when I accidentally tell them my whole life story so they can pity me. I'm not gonna do it that way,” you say softly and he nods.  “I understand. Will you text me that you got home safe? Please,” he whispers and you nod. There's a moment of silence, insecure and heavy, as if he doesn't know what to do, so you do the only thing you can think of to stop the awkward moment from prolonging. In a quick motion you lean up and kiss his cheek. 

As soon as you come home you text him a quick “am home” and turn back to wallowing in your sadness.  It takes Rafe another two hours to get back home and as soon as he walks in, you jump into his arms, trying to find the little security you knew you could always hold onto.  “Hey, baby, what's up? Huh? Missed me that much?” Rafe asks with a light chuckle while holding you up, with one arm around your waist and the other holding onto his bag.  “Missed you,” you mumble into him, not wanting to actually tell him why you are feeling down, but you know you need to. Soon. Very soon.

He puts down his bag and carries you into the kitchen, sitting you down on the island and taking your puffy face in his hands.  “What happened?” he asks softly, softer than you know him.  “I don't want you to be angry with me,” you whisper, and he prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue before nodding.  “I won't be, I promise.”  “I, uh…,” the words get stuck in your throat, and you feel the tears well up again.  “Whatever it is, you know I love you,” he says, and it makes your heart feel even heavier.  “I've been seeing someone else,” you whisper, and he takes a step back, laughing and running his hands through his hair. There is no mistake in how mad he is, because this was a new level of mad, one you haven't seen before.  “Who?” he barks and you flinch. “Who is it, y/n?”  “No, you'll hurt him. I won't let you hurt him,” you shake your head, and he steps closer again.  “Why should I give a fuck about how you feel right now? Huh?! For how long have you been cheating on me?” he screams into your face. “Rafe, please,” you beg softly, and he takes a step away again, and a second later his fist lands in a cabinet door.  “How long, y/n?” he yells.  “Four months,” you whisper and he laughs.  “You gotta be kidding me.”  “I didn't know- It's confusing and then today-” you stammer, and he interrupts you.  “You were with him today? That's why you're crying? And you expect me to not go and kill that guy instantly?”  “I love you,” you yell at him, and he stops, furrowing his brows and looking at you more confused than you have ever seen him. 

“What?”  “I think so, at least. It's very confusing,” you mumble, looking down at your hands.  “Is that supposed to be an apology? You tell me you've been fucking some asshole on the side and think it'll all be made okay by finally telling me that you love me after two years?” His anger is back, but he's still confused, and you don't know what to do about it. All you know is that you need to be truthful about it, as much as you can, as much as he lets you. “I know it doesn't make sense and I know it's not an apology. I don't mean it like that. But today, things were said by other people, not him, he was trying to help- I don't know what I feel,” you shake your head.  “None of that makes any sense, baby,” Rafe runs his hand over his face.  “I didn't think that what I felt for you was love because no one ever told me it could be like that. But I do. I love you and I made a horrible mistake, but I would have never known- I can't survive on just one. I need both of you to be happy,” you say, and he steps closer, harshly taking your face in his hand.  “Who!”  “JJ,” you whisper and his hand slips down to your throat, holding you tight enough to restrict your blood flow, making you dizzy.  “You let a dirty Pogue fuck you? And then you come back here and pretend like nothing happened?”  “I love you,” you are practically begging him to not hurt JJ, your own well-being has become secondary the moment you decided to tell Rafe about it all.  “Is that why you wanted to do all that new shit?” he laughs almost hysterically, squeezing a little tighter and your vision starts getting blurry.  “Please,” you choke out, and he lets go again.  “You know what the worst part is? That this started making more sense in the last few months, and now you're tellin’ me it's because you’re fucking Maybank on the side. That's fucked up, y/n,” Rafe shakes his head.  “I never got mad at you for cheating on me,” you remind him quietly, it's a low blow, but you know it's gonna do the trick. His escapades early on in your relationship, and even a few slip ups in the first year after your dad hadn't bothered you much anyway back then.  “No, but you never got mad at me for anything because you don't have a fucking heart. You were acting like a fucking robot until-,” he doesn't even finish the sentence, only shaking his head yet again.  “I don't understand why, Rafe. You have to believe me. And I tried not to. I did. For months before. And then it happened once, and I tried to stay away but then you- you hurt my feelings and I had no one else-” you stammer, and he glares at you.  “The best sex we ever had? Because you had just fucked him?”  “I know you. You're not happy with all I need. And everything you can give me- It's not enough, and I hate myself for it. I wish it was but it isn't. And I can't keep on trying to change you. I won't do that to you. It's not fair to either of us,” you whisper.  “You think you can have us both? Maybe we should call your little boy toy and ask him what he thinks, because apparently you value his fucking Pogue opinion more than me!” Rafe snaps and rips the phone from your back pocket.  “Rafe, please don't,” you cry, and he smirks, but it's neither playful nor sweet, it's simply vicious.  “Oh, I have a way worse idea, baby, and you won't say no because you love me, right?” he taunts, and you nod slowly, knowing whatever’s to happen next won't be the last punishment you receive for your crimes. 

Rafe throws you over his shoulder and carries you upstairs and into the bedroom. Throwing you on the bed as if you weigh nothing.  You know not to move when he's in a mood, he'll do it by himself or give you strict orders to follow. Doing anything on your own account will just make it worse for you.  “Take off that horrible dress,” he barks while walking into the closet to pick out a tie and get his special box for you. You do as you are told, and he comes over to you, pulling on your arms and tying your wrists together behind your back so you can't use your hands anymore.  Then he pulls on the strings of the tiny bikini you had on, having expected to go swimming before you had left for JJ’s. The flimsy piece comes undone and Rafe slaps your ass a single time, but it stings harsh enough for you to whine a little.  “The more you cry, the worse it'll get,” he threatens, and you try to swallow the pain as he sits and pulls you to lie over his lap, spanking you for half an eternity. And even when he's done and goes over to softly massaging your butt, it's still stinging, and you don't know how much more you can take if this was the start of it. 

“You think that was enough? Or do you deserve some more?” Rafe asks and you gulp before replying quietly.  “I was a very bad girl,” you say, just like he always wanted to hear. It had only happened two times before that he had decided to play these games in such an extreme way. The first time you had drunkenly flirted with some Touron and Rafe had decided it was the best way to teach you a lesson. That was a month into your relationship. The second time was a week before your dad had died, and he keeps telling you that he regrets doing it, but you know he doesn't. You had made fun of his family that night, just a little bit, but it had been enough to grant a punishment.  But neither of those come close to the pain you imagine he must be feeling right now. And you rather let him take his anger out on you than go and hurt JJ. That was the better option, surely.  “Yes, you were, baby. That's why you're gonna do whatever I say now. You know the rules. And if you cum I'll hurt you some more,” Rafe pulls you back up and you nod.  “Won't cum.”  “Good. Now lay down and let me fuck your throat,” he says, and you hesitate for a second but do it anyway. He's aware that you don't like it, not because it's not fun, but because he's simply too big for you to be able to breathe properly while doing it on his terms.  

Yet here you are, lying on the bed with your head hanging off the edge. But before he tells you to open up, he goes to his box, taking out a tiny device and smirking mischievously.  “You know what, we're doing it differently tonight,” Rafe pulls you up to sit. Then he goes to bend you over and for a moment you think he's just gonna fuck you, but instead he shoves the toy into you, filling both holes without any prep, and you cry out at the unexpected intrusion and the low vibrations of the toy.  “No. You're not gonna cum from that, and if there's anything on that when I pull it out, I'll make it hurt worse. Do you understand?” He warns and you nod.  “I understand.”  “Good. Kneel,” he orders and points at the rug in front of the bed and you follow diligently. 

When he tells you to open up, you do it, and when he tells you to moan around him, you do it, and when he tells you to look into the camera, you do it, albeit reluctantly.  Rafe doesn't care that you're close to choking on his cock, or that you can't stop the tears from streaming down your cheek. He doesn't care that your jaw will hurt for the two following days. He doesn't care because he knows it's still not enough punishment, and you know he's right.  Once he's happy with his little video, he tells you to get up and lie down again, and once you do, he pulls you towards the edge of the bed again and goes back to fucking your throat. What you can't see, because his balls are in your face, is that he's gone back to filming you, especially the part where his dick goes so far down your throat that it's visible on your neck.  Somehow you managed to blend out the vibrations in your pussy and ass, the low intensity was barely doing anything to you but edge you on more and more. 

“You're a real slut, aren't you, baby,” he huffs after pulling out and manhandling you to be face down before him. Your legs are propped up and spread wide as he harshly pulls the toy out, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your throat.  “Tell me you love me again, and I might stop,” he rasps, and you are about to say it, but just as you open your mouth to speak, he thrusts into you. An obscenely loud moan is all you can conjure before he starts ramming into you.  “Tell me how much you love me!”  “Love you, Rafe. Love you and your cock so much,” you cry out and a second later your phone lands on the bed right next to your head.  “Look who called to check up on you, baby. Tell him how much you love when I take what's mine!” Rafe demands and your eyes fill with tears as you see the screen.  “What the fuck is this?” JJ asks and you sob.  “Rafe, no,” you cry.  “You want him so bad, he has to know what it means to share you. Because I'm not letting you go, baby,” Rafe growls, fucking you harder and your tears keep on streaming.  “Princess, it's okay. Focus,” JJ tells you through the phone, and you don't understand why he didn't hang up immediately.  “I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Rafe, please,” you beg, but he won't stop, not until he's got what he wants.  “Tell him how much you love me,” Rafe barks, pulling on your hair and yanking you towards him. “You don't get to make any demands tonight, baby. You know what you did to me!”  He pushes you back down, and you land face first in the duvet, sobbing uncontrollably. “I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry,” you are close to hyperventilating. Your body is sore and tired, but he won't stop the attack on your poor pussy.  “You hear that Maybank, she loves me!” Rafe says, jealousy drenching his voice, and picks up the phone. “But I still don't think she deserves to cum. Do you?”  “You're sick, Rafe,” JJ hisses through the phone, but your mind is starting to go blank, the noise of his skin slapping against your own, and the quenching sound of your pussy is filling your ears.  “No, she's sick. One dick isn't enough for the little bitch. Nah, she needs two fillings to feel better about herself,” Rafe laughs, and you're so far gone that you can barely hear him anymore.  “Princess, focus on me. Come on, pretty girl,” JJ pleads and you nod absentmindedly.  “Shit, stop,” Rafe moans, but you can't. JJ's soft, loving words of encouragement have triggered your release, and you really don't have any control over it.  You moan so loud you think the whole island might hear, but you don't care, actually. And when you push your ass back into Rafe he loses his game and cums so hard that he collapses onto you almost instantly. 

Panting you lie there, incapable of saying a single word, but at least JJ had disconnected the call.  “I get it now,” Rafe pants and pulls you into him, hugging you and kissing the top of your head. “Maybe I can learn to live with it.”  “Love you,” is all you manage to say before your exhaustion takes over, and you fall into a deep dreamless slumber. 

You don't even feel like getting up the next morning, but you do it anyway. Pulling on one of Rafe's shirts to feel a tiny bit of familiar comfort you prod downstairs after having cleaned up the tiniest bit.  “Good morning,” Rafe says as soon as you step into the kitchen.  “Morning,” you walk past him, kissing his cheek just like any normal day. But unlike any normal day, Rafe isn't dressed yet, he's only got his shorts on and something tells you he had planned it.  “I don't think you should get to wear my shirts right now. I'm still mad at you, remember?” he nods at you, and you sigh, wanting to turn back and go change, but his hand shoots out to hold you back. “Oh, no, no. You're gonna take it off here. And you're gonna eat without it on.”  “But I don't have anything else on,” you complain quietly and he shrugs.  “Not my problem.”  You pull the shirt over your head and hand it to him. “Anything else?”  “Actually, yeah,” Rafe gives you a lopsided grin before sitting you up on the island. 

It stings when he pushes into you, stretching you to your limit without any prep. But it's a punishment, you shouldn't enjoy it anyway.  His grunts and curses and intensely hard thrusts make you whimper, but at least he doesn't tell you off about it this time. Instead, he encourages you, wanting to see the tears and as soon as they start running his thrusts grow sloppier.  “I brought waffles as a peace offering,” you hear JJ's voice and footsteps that are coming closer. Your head spins around, and you stare at him across the room. The shock on his face tells you that he had just as much been blindsided by this as you, and it takes him another moment to drag his eyes away from the scene. But Rafe just laughs and keeps fucking you.  “Look at him, he can't even look at you while I fuck you. How the fuck is that supposed to work, baby?”  “As if you'd like to see it the other way round,” JJ snaps back at him, his back still turned to you. But the pain is too much, you can't take it anymore.  “J, please,” it's a mere whisper that leaves you, but he walks over to you anyway, avoiding looking at Rafe.  “It's all right, I'm here,” JJ whispers to you while caressing your hair, and you look up at him, into his pretty blue eyes.  “Make her cum,” Rafe demands and JJ rolls his eyes.  “You know, if you were better at it, she would've never fucked me in the first place,” JJ glares at him, but you pull on his collar, kissing him and moaning into his mouth while Rafe keeps fucking you.  “You're doing so great, princess. Such a good girl,” JJ praises you and your stomach starts filling with tiny butterflies.  “More,” you moan and JJ looks up at Rafe. “Touch her,” he orders and for some reason Rafe does what he says and starts rubbing harsh circles on your clit.  “Oh God!” you scream, so close to your release that you feel like bursting. Your back lifts off the cold marble and your lips tremble. “That's it. Look at me baby,” JJ whispers and when your eyes meet his you feel afloat, just like the first time. “Let go,” he hushes, and your eyes roll back. You scream and feel how hard it is for Rafe to keep fucking you, but he tries anyway until he can't hold back anymore and fills you up with his hot seed.  “That was better than last night,” Rafe pants while tucking himself away and JJ comes around to pull you up and carry you upstairs. 

“Is this what you want?” JJ asks quietly after sitting you down on the toilet. Your voice is strained, but you only manage to nod a yes.  “We'll have to put down some ground rules, because I really don't wanna be in a situation where I find out what Rafe looks like when he finishes. That was way too close already,” JJ says while letting in a bath for you.  “I'm sorry,” you rasp, but he shakes his head.  “Don't apologize. If I hadn't told you to come by yesterday, this wouldn't be happening. And you should save your voice,” he smiles. 

The hot water helps with the pain, but leaning back into JJ and being with him without having to think about what might happen if someone finds out is freeing. It's nice and good and feels a thousand times better than before.  “I don't care if they get it or not. I know you can't help it,” he whispers to you, softly massaging your sore thighs under the water. “Stupid hearts,” he sighs.  “You okay?” Rafe asks, standing in the door, and you turn to look at him and nod. “Good. I have to go to work,” he says and takes a few steps over to kiss you softly. “Love you,” he whispers and turns around to leave without waiting for you to say it back. 

The following days are filled with planning and talking and fighting over phrasings, but in the end they manage to come to a conclusion that they can both live with. The easiest one at that. You get to choose, anything and everything when it comes to what happens between the three of you, in this weird new relationship you found yourself in. 

Most nights you find yourself sleeping in JJ's bed instead of your own, but Rafe doesn't mind it much, never having been much of a cuddler himself. But when it gets to your darkest moments, you don't trust yourself enough to talk to JJ, maybe it's stupid, but somehow you can't change it.  Yet you also don't think you'll ever regret your decision, especially when you're waking up to JJ plastering you with kisses before slowly fucking you awake. Or when he goes to eat you out while a boring movie is playing.  Or when Rafe comes home frustrated from a meeting and uses you in any way you let him, and sometimes he even lets JJ join and not just sit there and please you mentally. 

Your new favorite thing has to be sucking off JJ while Rafe is plowing into you.  With every deep thrust of Rafe's hard cock into your clenching core, you moan louder around JJ, and it's even harder for him to not cum as soon as he sees your puffy lips wrapped around his dick. And you love to swirl your tongue and play with his balls a little, slapping your lips and cheeks with his pretty cock until he begs for you to suck him dry. 

The days in between when you get time to recover properly are filled with surf lessons from JJ or going shopping with Rafe.  It's passed the point where only the three of you and the people close to you know about the arrangement. Especially parties start to be a boiling pot for dramatics. 

You're at the Boneyard, playing stupid drinking games with JJ, having fun the way teenagers are supposed to be.  You're aware that the people around you talk, but you couldn't care less because you're on cloud nine, too happy to let anybody ruin it. But JJ is the complete opposite. The more people he hears, the more agitated he gets.  “What’ya say?” he snaps at some guy, pushing him back.  “Chill bro,” the boy tries to laugh it off.  “No, repeat what you said, asshole,” JJ pushes.  “Only the biggest of sluts need-” He doesn't get to finish the repetition of his words when JJ's fist lands in his face. You yell for him to stop, but it's like he's in a trance. It takes both John B and Pope, who storm over from the other side of the party, to pull JJ off the guy.  “What the fuck, bro,” John B shoves JJ backwards but J just laughs.  “He deserved it.”  “Why ‘cause he said something mean?” Pope snaps, and you cross your arms in front of your chest.  “You wouldn't get it, Pope,” JJ shakes his head and looks up at the night sky. “Y'all just don't get it.”  “We don't, because it doesn't make sense,” Pope counters and you scoff.  “Just because you don't understand something, doesn't mean it's shit or that we're horrible people for it.”  “I didn't say that,” he shakes his head, but you're done with them, you have been for a long time.  “C’mon, J,” you say and start walking towards where you had parked your car. 

At home, you start by cleaning him up, kissing him all over in the shower until he pins you against the tiles. His kisses are forceful, and he's groping at your ass and thighs. Picking you up and fucking up into you while you moan and gasp. He doesn't give you time to cum when he finishes and puts you down on your feet.  This is different from what you know of him, but it intrigues you too. JJ turns you around and snakes his arm around your thigh, pushing two fingers into your sore cunt to stop you from spilling out.  “I know I should've asked, but it's gonna be great. I promise,” he whispers into your ear before leading you into the bedroom and making you lie down.

JJ is standing in front of you, your legs pressed to your chest, and he’s holding onto your hips as he fucks you. It's not loving and soft like any time before. It's harsh and fast, and you like it too much. You like the sound of his claves crashing into your ass, the way his balls slap against your skin. The wet noises your pussy makes when he drags his cock out of you just to slam right back in. And the way your tits jiggle with the movement. Your hands are clawing at the sheets when JJ starts playing with your clit, making you cum in a matter of seconds. You know you'll be there for hours when he shoots his cum into you and just keeps going. You haven't quite figured out which way you like it better; with JJ’s incredibly small refractory period, or Rafe's stamina to hold out for just how long he wants to. 

“Who's gonna clean that up?” you hear Rafe ask and your head spins around to look at him. Your mind is blurry with pleasure, your mouth agape and JJ doesn't stop and rips another orgasm from you. Rafe has never actually watched him fuck you, but something about this is making him want to stay and watch.  Your back arches up again, and JJ grunts and curses, filling you up for the fifth time that night, and you watch Rafe's face contort in a light confusion.  “You just keep going? Maybe you should give her some time, dude,” Rafe says, and you shake your head at him.  “She'll have time once I'm done,” JJ growls, and it sends shivers down your spine, making you roll your eyes back. “Isn't that right, baby?”  “Yes, yes, yes-” you scream each time his cock pushes against your cervix as if he wants to pass through it. “Want your cum, JJ, all of it,” you babble, maybe you like giving Rafe a show too.  “Good girl,” JJ moans and cums another time, making you clench around him with ease. 

“You see that,” JJ smirks down at you, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to see the tip of his dick poking against your stomach. “That's it, princess,” he praises you before pushing down on your stomach, and you fall back, moaning, incapable of holding yourself up with the intense pleasure he's giving you.  “Give me my phone,” JJ orders and for a moment you have forgotten that Rafe is still there, still watching. He hands JJ his phone and J points the lense right at where you two are connected.  His free hand is back to rubbing torturously harsh circles on your clit, making you mewl and cry out.  “Cum for me, princess. Make me proud, baby,” JJ hums, and you let go of the tension. Screaming his name and squeezing his cock so hard that he cums almost instantly, pushing in farther and holding himself there until he's all done.  And once he's pulled out, he goes down on his knees before you, pointing the camera right at your pussy, clenching around nothing and pushing all his cum out of you and letting it drip down onto the rug. 

“What she do?” Rafe asks just as JJ comes back from the bathroom, a wet washcloth in his hand.  “Nothing,” JJ mutters while cleaning you up, but you can't move, not yet. Your legs feel like they are made of rubber and your mind is empty, only having enough capacity to listen to their words.  “Why'd you do this then?” Rafe points at your utterly fucked out state.  “Do I ask you why you do what you do? No. Just let it go,” JJ snaps at him and leaves for his room.  “You could at least change the fucking sheets!” Rafe yells after him, but it's no use. 

“Y/n, are you okay?” Rafe whispers and picks you up, holding you in his arms while you regain your strength.  “Frustrated,” you mumble and look at him with your glossy eyes.  “Maybank? Why?”  “Fight- Asshole-” you stammer, and he carries you out of the room and towards JJ’s.  “What did you do?” Rafe barks at JJ, your body still tightly wrapped around him.  “None of your fucking business,” JJ hisses.  “It fucking is when it ends with her losing all bodily capabilities, you ass,” Rafe yells, and you try to cover your ears, but it doesn't really help.  “He called her a whore, and he had to pay for it. I don't care what they say, but they don't get to insult her,” JJ explains harshly, and you start to slowly feel your toes again.  “Doesn't explain why you nearly fucked her into subdrop,” Rafe shakes his head and caresses your back. “You can't just do shit like that, and you know it.”  “She said she was okay with it.”  “She's a fucking people pleaser, asshole,” Rafe snaps, and you lift your head from his shoulder.  “Please stop,” you whisper, and he wipes a tear from your cheek.  “It's okay, baby,” Rafe whispers to you before turning back to JJ. “Don't let your fucking anger out on her without making sure she's alright.” “Noted,” JJ says, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes.  “Good, because you gotta aftercare the shit out of her now. I'm not cleaning up your messes, Maybank,” Rafe tells him and basically hands you to him as if you were nothing more than a puppet. 

“I'm sorry, love,” JJ whispers, placing you in the hot water and running his hand through his hair.  “S’okay,” you mumble and look up at him with a droopy smile.  “I'm gonna clean up, and then I'll be right with you, all right?” He kisses you gently and leaves again.  You think back to it, the moment he snapped. He looked like a different person, more like his dad in a way, and although you never even saw Luke Maybank up close, you know it’s true. You know the rumors are true. He didn't tell you, but in your heart you know it.  If his friends hadn't come, he wouldn't have stopped. If they hadn't showed up, the other guy would be dead. If it hadn't been for you, none of it would've happened.  It’s a rather quick spiral that you go down, and you can't stop yourself from crying, not even when JJ comes back and looks at you rather confused.  “Hey. Hey, pretty girl, don't cry. It's okay. You're okay. I'm here,” he tells you and pulls your head to his chest. But it doesn't help. You can't stop feeling like it was all your fault, all the pain in your life is your fault.  “Rafe!” JJ shouts, and it only takes a minute for him to run in.  “What you do now?”  “Nothing, I came back, and she's crying, and she won't stop,” JJ defends himself.  “Go. You seriously have no clue,” Rafe shakes his head and takes JJ's spot next to you. 

“What's wrong, baby,” Rafe whispers to you, holding your face in his big hands.  “It's my fault. I killed him. It's my fault,” you sob and he shakes his head.  “No, it's not. You know it's not,” Rafe assures you, but you're too far gone for it to work. “I did it. I killed him,” you cry and he clenches his jaw.  “Y/n, you didn't drive that car, it's not your fault. Please, listen to me,” Rafe pleads, but you shake your head, not wanting to believe him.  “Hey, hey, look at me,” he orders, and you turn your eyes back on him. “Three things you feel, name them.” “Pain. Tired. Sad,” you answer slowly.  “Four things you can touch.”  “Water, you, me, bathtub,” you reply a little faster and he nods.  “Five things you see,” Rafe whispers, and you look around in front of you. “Towel, shower, robe, painting-” your eyes get stuck on the blonde boy that is standing in the doorway of the bathroom, “JJ.”  Rafe snaps around to look at him. “I told you to leave!”  “What's wrong with her?” JJ asks quietly, and your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach.  “Leave!” Rafe yells, and it takes a moment for JJ to realize that it will have consequences if he doesn't. But Rafe had already turned back around to you, stroking your hair. “We should get you to bed, baby.”  He dries you up and puts you in a shirt of his to sleep in, before laying you down in your bed and turning off the lights. 

When you wake up, you're alone, and you decide to not get ready and just go downstairs the way you are. Before you can meet the boys in the kitchen you overhear them talking and stop in your tracks.  “That doesn't make sense,” JJ says.  “No shit. But that's just how it's been ever since. Your stupid fight triggered something, and the day is coming up in a week- It's a fucking minefield this time of year,” Rafe sighs.  “So we distract her?” JJ asks and Rafe scoffs.  “That's just delaying it. No, you just gotta stay with her and make sure she won't spiral. And when she does you have to keep telling her that it's not her fault, and pull her out of it. The naming thing always works,” Rafe replies.  “And what if it doesn't?”  “I don't know.” 

You turn the corner and pretend like you had just come down the stairs, walking straight to the coffee machine.  “How did you sleep?” Rafe asks with a smile.  “Alone,” you say and take your mug, nearly burning your tongue as you take a sip.  “I'm sorry, y/n, for yesterday and all,” JJ apologizes, but you just shrug.  “Shit happens.” Pretending to not care was easy, too easy.  “I’m gonna be at the office all day. You think you're gonna be all right?” Rafe asks and you nod.  “I don't know why we shouldn't be.” 

You spend your day training, not having done so in too long for your own liking. The water calms your mind and gives you enough time to reflect on your life choices.  You know Rafe is right. You know that it's not your fault. But the guilt you feel around it doesn't just vanish because of it. 

Later that day Rafe texts you that you're having dinner at the country club with his dad, meaning JJ isn't allowed to come.  “I'll just enjoy the view right now,” JJ smiles and watches you get dressed. The underwear set is new, and you can tell by the way he's looking at you that he wants nothing more than to take it off again.  “If it was my call,” you start, but he interjects.  “I know, but it isn't. Besides, I don't really give a shit about family dinners and all that fancy bullshit.”  “Sarah will be there, and John B,” you remind him, but he shrugs.  “So what?” “Have you talked to them at all in the last few weeks?” you ask and JJ rubs over the light stubble on his chin.  “They didn't reach out either.”  “They are your family though. That's what you told me,” you whisper. “I have a new family now. I have you,” JJ smiles and takes your dress from the clothing hanger.  “That's not enough, and you know it,” you say while stepping into the dress and letting him zip it up.  “It's enough for you,” he says, and you sigh, looking at him through the mirror in your closet. “But I'm a heartless bitch with more money than anyone else on this island. I don't need anything more, and if I did, I could just buy it.” Your fingers fumble with the necklace until JJ takes it from you and places it around your neck.  “I know there's a heart in there,” JJ says while holding you from behind, his right hand resting on top of your chest.  “Horrible. We should go get a knife and cut it out,” you whisper with a smile and he kisses your shoulder.  “You'd kill me if I said what I was thinking right now,” he mumbles against your skin and your heart stops for a moment, scared that he would say the dreaded words that you knew would definitely complicate your life even more. “Then you really shouldn't say it.”  “I should, but I won't,” he looks back up, leaning his head against yours, smiling. 

The dinner goes rather smoothly, although Sarah still gives you a side eye and once the Camerons are gone, John B asks how JJ is, but nothing more.  “Boring as ever,” you complain on the drive home.  “Glad he didn't ask when we're getting married,” Rafe exhales a laugh.  “Hmmm, let me think,” you tap your finger against your chin in a joking manner. “We can fuck them all over and just fly to Vegas right now.”  “Wouldn't be the worst idea we ever had,” he laughs and takes your hand up to kiss it just as he turns into your driveway.  “My mom expects a huge white wedding. At least a hundred guests,” you sigh while getting out of the car.  “We should start planning then,” Rafe grins at you, pulling you into his side and kissing the top of your head.

“What happens to that one, once we get married?” Rafe asks you, pointing at JJ who is standing in the kitchen with nothing more than his boxers on.  “They should make this harem thing legal,” JJ says and shugs the rest of his drink.  “A harem is one guy with many women, dumbass,” you laugh.  “The opposite of that then,” JJ shrugs.  “Sure,” Rafe rolls his eyes at him and JJ flips him off.  “Sometimes I think you guys forget who's the boss around here,” you say and zip your dress open, letting it fall to the ground and walking upstairs. “First one up gets to start,” you call out and hear them arguing already. 

“Just because you're first, doesn't mean you know what you're doing,” JJ complains.  “Fine, you start then, genius,” Rafe scoffs, and you furrow your brows, it was unusual for Rafe to give in and let JJ do anything to you unless you specifically asked for it.  “What's the plan here, boys?” you ask with an anticipating smile on your lips.  JJ pulls you into his arms, kissing you deeply and pushing you against the bed. The backs of your knees hit the wood and you fall down.  “Just relax, gorgeous,” he muses and drops down on his knees before you, taking off your heels and letting his hands run up to your thighs. You sigh into it, the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin and the kisses he leaves on the inside of your thighs before unclasping the lace body right on top of your pussy.  JJ rolls the fabric up to reveal your stomach, kissing and nipping at your skin; biting your hip and making you jump in surprise. He loves to tease you, and you'd never tell him to stop, ever.  He comes up to kiss you, pushing the lace up even farther and helping you take it off completely. Kissing your neck and leaving marks you hear him chuckle, then his lips meet your ear, and he whispers, “you think he's taking any notes?”  Your eyes dart over to Rafe who has pulled a chair over and is watching you carefully. “Maybe,” you reply.  JJ hums, picking up his head to smile at you. “Hopefully.” 

JJ kisses down your neck, following along your collarbone and to your tits. He sucks on your nipple, grazing over it with his teeth before he pulls on it and your back arches up.  “Would be neglectful to not give you the same attention,” JJ says to your other tit, and you would tell him off if he wasn't squeezing your sensitive nipple right in that second. His hand is playing with your sore tit while his mouth attacks the other. It's overwhelming and perfect, and you don't see any reason to hold back. Your moans and gasps fill the room, and they continue on even once he has let off your boobs and moved downward again. He sucks hickeys into the soft skin of your thighs, making you mewl and squirm.  “Tell me what you want me to do to you, princess,” JJ demands, and you grasp into his hair to push his face into your clothed cunt. He blows a little against your wet slip, and you instinctively want to close your legs, but he holds them in place.  “You should let me take this pretty thing off first,” JJ smirks and you lift your hips. The tiny slip is off faster than you can say your own name. 

“Tastes so fucking sweet, baby,” JJ moans after licking over your wet pussy, his tongue dipping between your folds and torturing your clit a little.  “Hold on, princess,” JJ smirks up at you and your hand finds his hair, tugging on the fine strands as he plunges his tongue into your pussy. His nose presses against your clit, and with every stroke of his tongue, he edges you closer.  “More, JJ, please,” you moan, and he starts to suck on your clit while pushing his fingers into you. Curling them and sucking harsher, almost biting down on your clit, and you can't help but grind your hips against him. When his fingers come up to your face, and you lick them off, you already feel like you're about to explode.  “Cum on my tongue, baby,” JJ hums into you, licking long strides up your pussy before pressing his tongue flat against your entrance and rubbing his nose on your clit.  You keep rolling your hips and moaning his name as you come undone for him. His new technique isn't as good as the old one, but you're not one to complain about it. JJ gets up and wipes his face on a small towel that Rafe hands him, but you can't stop staring at the wet spot in his boxers.  “Again?” you ask JJ with a smile and he shrugs.  “Can't help it. You taste too good, baby.” 

You hold your hand out for Rafe after sitting up, and he takes and intertwines your fingers. He's still in his suit pants and shirt, looking down at you with a lustrous smile.  “You look really hot in this,” you whisper and nod, but your hands wander to the buttons, slowly opening the shirt until you can push it off his shoulders. His abs look so rideable to you, but you are still unsure if he'd let you once you ask.  “You're way hotter, baby. Next time I get to take off the fancy shit,” Rafe growls, his hand  cupping your tit, brushing his thumb over your tit, but his eyes shift towards JJ. “You understand?”  But JJ just holds his hands up in defense and sits down on the chair.  “Take the pants off, babe,” you pout at Rafe, and he slowly opens his belt, pulling it out and dropping it to the side. It was like he was doing a strip show for you, and you loved every second of it.  Rafe pushes you to lie down, your hands pinned over your head as he kisses you aggressively. His free hand gropes at your tit, and you lift your hips to press your wet cunt against his hard cock.  “Always so needy,” Rafe mocks you before going down on his knees between your legs.  He's aggressive and fast, sucking on your clit with so much pressure building that you are scared he's gonna rip it off. But your screams just turn him on even more. His tongue thrusts into you with a harsh pace, and you try to get away from him, but he's holding you in place.  “Curl it,” JJ says and Rafe listens, curling his tongue up and ripping an orgasm out of you in a matter of seconds. 

“J,” you pant and Rafe wants to get up, but you close your thighs around his head. “No, you stay. J, come here,” you tap the bed right next to your head. They do as you say, and while Rafe is eating you out another time, JJ is fucking your throat and praising you.  Before JJ can cum you pull him from your throat and pump his cock slower, trying to pace him just a bit. But when you look at the two boys, so helpless when it comes to your wants and needs, you can't help yourself.  With a quick move you have J’s dick back in your warm and wet mouth, swirling your tongue and hollowing your cheeks. Your hand is massaging his balls, and he throws his head back and fills your mouth with his salty cum. It feels so good, you cum instantly, creaming all over Rafe's pretty face.  “Definitely doing this again,” you sigh, falling flat into the bed and not planning on getting up anytime soon. 

The engagement dinner is jarring and the only reason you can get through it is, because Rafe keeps reminding you that it'll be over soon, his hand resting on your thigh the whole night. 

But the engagement party, the weekend after is fun, is actually fun.  You invited everyone you knew, including JJ's friends and Barry, who you hadn't talked to in ages. You spend the first half of the night tightly wrapped in Rafe's arm, smiling and laughing at some things his friends say.  Sitting on the couch on Rafe's lap you let your eyes wander, and they get stuck on JJ who is visibly uncomfortable while nipping on his beer.  “Maybe a blowjob will lighten his mood,” you whisper to Rafe, but he shakes his head.  “No, but honesty might.”  “What do you mean?” you ask and look at your, now, fiancée.  “I mean, he's been miserable and fighting it ever since we brought up that this would be happening. Not like you have much of a choice anyway,” Rafe shrugs lightly and runs his hand over your back.  “How do you know he's miserable?” you wonder, eyeing your boyfriend across the room.  “Because I use my eyes, and to be fair, I'd be pouting too if you wanted to marry him instead of me.”  “And what am I supposed to tell him? He knows I don't have a choice if I wanna keep the company,” you sigh.  “The truth. That you love him,” Rafe whispers and kisses your cheek.  “You can't know that,” you shake your head and he laughs.  “I see the way you two look at each other. I love you so much baby, but you've never looked at me like that.” “That doesn't mean anything,” you fight his words, not wanting him to be right about it.  “I mean, you can try it with the blowjob, but I think the truth would be better,” Rafe smiles and slaps your ass, signaling you to get up. 

You're dragging your feet walking over to JJ. “Look at that, a Pogue in a Kook mansion,” you tease with a smile.  “Hey,” he mumbles without looking at you.  “You okay?” you whisper and he nods, avoiding your eyes.  “Why shouldn't I be?” “Because you've been avoiding me all day.” You reach out your hand to hold onto his and as soon as your delicate fingers close around his, he stares at you. Pain filled blue eyes and a merely unnoticeable tremble on his lip.  “Do I have to be happy about it? You want me to be happy about the fact that you're leaving me?” he hisses at you, but you feel like a weight is lifted off you, a soft smile tugging at your lips.  “Come on, I need to tell you something,” you whisper and lead him upstairs to your bedroom, unlocking the door and stepping inside. 

“Why did you bring me here?” JJ asks, his hand is holding onto the bottle for dear life. “Sit with me,” you say and place yourself at the edge of the bed. He follows reluctantly, yet again avoiding to even look at you.  “JJ, I'm not leaving you,” you whisper and he scoffs. “Sure you aren't.” “I'm serious, J. Just because I have to marry Rafe, doesn't mean anything changes between us.”  “Sure it won't, until you want to have kids, and then it's no longer appropriate,” he mutters, and you don't know how to convince him. Maybe Rafe was right with his assumption about him, about you. But the thought of it is debilitating.  “When I have kids they will have my name, JJ. Do you not want kids?” you ask and he sighs.  “I don't just want any kids, y/n, I want your kids,” he whispers and turns to look at you.  “Why would you think I'll leave you then?”  “Because you are marrying Rafe. Starting a family with Rafe. Just like the plan was. I'm nowhere close to being part of that picture,” he talks himself down, and you really have no more words left inside you. 

You take his face into your hands and kiss him. Your heart is racing while looking at him and your throat feels dry, but you know you have to do it. And you know Rafe is right, you've known it ever since you let JJ compromise your thoughts from the very first time.  “I love you, JJ,” you whisper, and his eyes go wide.  “You sure?” he asks and as soon as you nod he pins you down onto the bed and starts kissing you. Your giggles and the soft attempts to get away from him are making it even better, until he has you pinned right where he wants you, and you are panting, looking up at him.  “You're so beautiful, y/n,” JJ whispers, diving down to kiss you, sloppy and with a smile on both your lips.  “We should go back down,” you whisper and he shakes his head.  “Not yet.” “They might be looking for us and I don't-”  You don't get to finish your sentence when his lips find yours again. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and entangles his tongue with yours until you moan into him.  “I love you, y/n,” JJ whispers, and nuzzles his face into your neck. 

And before you can think twice about it, your little make out session has turned into the best sex you've ever had with him. JJ is sitting under you as you softly roll your hips. He's buried so deep into you that every miniscule move is sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His hands are rubbing over your hips and ass in a perpetual motion, while yours play with his hair.  You think you could stay like this forever, just you and him in perfect synchrony; in love.  And the only time his eyes leave yours is when he dips his head to suck on your tits, or kiss your neck.  When he turns you around to lie down and thrusts into you, it's like he's fucking you for the first time. A plethora of praises and a dozen more “I love you’s” fall from his lips while all you can do is moan and babble incoherently about how much you love him too. 

When you find your way back downstairs, after what felt like an eternity, his arms are wrapped around you. JJ is himself again, flirty and always joking, and so incredibly more touchy than before.  “I see you made up,” Rafe smiles and holds his hand out, for you to take your seat back on his lap.  “Excuse me, you had her all night,” JJ complains and pulls you away, just to sit down right next to Rafe and let you kiss him like you had wanted to.  “No more trouble in paradise?” Rafe whispers to you and you shake your head.  “I love my boys,” you sigh.  “And I thought you went with the blowjob,” Rafe teases you and you roll your eyes.  “I could've gotten a blowjob?” JJ gasps quietly and softly pinches your thigh.  “You get those all the time, dumbass,” you giggle, and he smiles at you, completely enamored by your whole being.  “To think I get to be this lucky just because I couldn't stop staring at your tits, princess,” JJ whispers.  “Pretty nice tits,” Rafe agrees with a mumble.  “Pretty nice dicks,” you giggle and cuddle into JJ, bathing in the newfound closeness and in your mind you're already planning it all out; the kids, the dog, and the two loves of your life. 

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimozart

[morgana-larkin]

Ok for the next prompt, the person asked for me to post it separately instead of with the prompt to not spoil anything, so I’ll post the fic and I’ll post the prompt a few minutes after. So pretty much the summary is: The Abbott crew tries to set you up on dates with men, Melissa finds someone to set you up with around the same time she catches feelings for you. Unfortunately for Melissa, you seem to actually like your date she set you up with. But maybe there’s something that Melissa doesn’t know about you and your date…

I have no clue about the title, that was what my brain came up with on 2 hours of sleep. I may or may not post a part 2 with jealous smut. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: so this got the most votes in the poll. I literally started writing this, Mine part 5 and my first Marilyn x reader fic and didn’t know which one to finish lol. My ADD got the best of me. So I’m almost done Mine and the Marilyn x reader fic so keep an eye out! Also for the Marilyn x reader fic, anyway want to be added to the taglist? My current one is my Melissa and Chessy taglist that I will not put with my other character fics.

I Feel A Rainbow In You

Warnings: jealous Mel, very clueless reader, angst

Words: 4.1k

“No women? Nobody else? Ever?” Melissa says.

After a bit more questioning, Janine gets a bit upset and walks out. Before Gregory follows her out, you pipe up.

“I don’t get what the big deal is? She has someone, I’ve never been in a relationship.” You say and they all turn to look at you in shock.

Gregory follows Janine out and everyone stares at you in shock.

“Girl you’ve never been in a relationship? Like ever?” Ava says and you sigh.

“Nope, never.” You say and you see Melissa raise her eyebrows.

“Dear, is there a reason you haven’t had a relationship?” Barb asks and that’s when Janine and Gregory walk back in. Gregory told Janine what you said and how everyone looked at you in shock.

“I just haven’t had someone interested in me to date me.” You tell her and you see Melissa looking at you with sympathy.

“What if we helped?” Ava pipes up and you whip your head at her. “We can set you on dates and help you find Mr right or at least someone to start your dating path.” Ava adds and you sigh, finding no way out of this, you agree.

So everyone seems to find a nice man to set you up with and you’re not even remotely interested in them. Then Melissa says that one of her sisters has a friend who agreed to go on a date with you. You put your forehead on the table and slam it a few times. Melissa looks at you and she thinks it’s cute and she giggles. She catches your forehead and brings your head back up.

“Hon, if this date doesn’t go well then we’ll give you a break alright?” She says to comfort you as you’ve been on 5 dates this month. You nod your head at her and she rubs your shoulder. You blush a little bit at her touch and go back to eating.

Melissa has been starting to develop a tiny crush on you. She realised it when you went on your last date a few days ago and she got a little jealous. When you texted her after the date saying there wasn’t going to be a second, she breathed a sigh of relief. You and Melissa became friends rather quickly, you were part of one the people that started with Janine and Jacob and part of the few that remained. When you saw Melissa take an interest in you and no one else that was new, it made you feel really special. Instead of forming a friendship with Janine and Jacob and others that were new, you formed one with Melissa and Barb, mostly Melissa.

On Saturday, you went out with the man that Melissa set you up with, Thomas.

Melissa gets a text from you after the date saying there’s a second one and she feels a stab in her stomach. She obviously was the supportive friend and told you that that’s great.

On Monday, everyone was asking how it went and then there was more questions once you said that you and Thomas were going out again on Friday right after school. Melissa stayed quiet throughout the entire conversation, just kept stabbing her meal and taking angry bites. Everyone noticed this and didn’t say anything, the only one who didn’t notice was you. You were either talking and turned away from her or on your phone texting Thomas. You and Thomas exchanged numbers on your date so that you can keep in contact during the week.

During the week, you and Thomas kept texting and it was driving Melissa up the wall. Not only did you find someone to keep going on dates with, but it was taking her time with you away.

On Wednesday during lunch, you and Melissa were talking. Melissa was giving you her full attention and taking in your every word, and smiling at you as you were talking about your favourite tv show. You then get a text notification from your phone and you pause and look at it.

“Oh sorry, it’s Thomas.” You tell Melissa and her smile drops. She silently stews as she sees you smiling while texting Thomas. You then laugh at something he says and Melissa can’t handle it. She quickly packs her things up and storms out of there.

You watch her walk out of there and you look at Barb for an answer for Melissa’s behaviour and she just shrugs. Everyone feels bad for Melissa, she has a crush on you and it’s at the same time you start dating someone.

On Thursday morning, you burst in to tell Melissa about the newest episode of your favourite show. A smile makes it way to her face and like always, gives you her full attention, even if she hasn’t taken a sip of her coffee yet. She puts her elbow on the table and her head in her hand and stares at you, almost with heart eyes. You then get a text and sees it’s from Thomas.

“It’s from Thomas, he hasn’t said where he’s taking me but says to dress kinda fancy but not like rich fancy.” You say to them and you have no idea what he means.

“Oh girl, he might be taking you to a club.” Ava says, interested in the conversation.

“Oh, well I did mention that I like dancing so it could be.” You say and you don’t notice Melissa hiding her anger while she taps a big sip of coffee. You turn to Melissa and tilt your head. “Melissa, what do you think I should wear? You’ve seen my wardrobe.” You ask her and she turns to look at you and her mind comes up blank.

“I think just wear what you want, you look beautiful no matter what you wear.” She responds with and you blush.

“You’re very sweet.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

“So tell me more about the episode.” Melissa tells you, wanting your attention back on her. She goes back to watching you with a smile as you continue talking. Barb looks at Melissa and prays that this ends well. She knows how Melissa can get when jealous and doesn’t want you or her getting hurt.

In the break room on Friday morning, Barb and Melissa were talking before you got there.

“Melissa dear, you should tell her how you feel, who knows she could be into women as well.” Barb tells her and the trio hears it and agrees.

“And what if she’s not? I’m not going to risk ruining the friendship over my feelings for her.” Melissa says with a pout.

“But Melissa, it’s hurting you. Everytime she gets a text from Thomas, you get jealous. And at some point she’s gonna notice.” Barb says and Melissa is about to say something when you walk in. Her jaw drops as she takes in your appearance. You come in with a black wavy skirt on that stops mid thigh and a dark purple crop top that clings to your body in the best way. The crop top isn’t too short that it’s inappropriate for school but can still see some skin from your belly. You finish the look with some black heels and black tights. You get a whistle from Jacob and Ava and you do a little spin.

“Daaammmn girl, you got that body working for you!” Ava exclaims as she dumps a bunch of sugar in her coffee.

“Thanks! Thomas is picking me up right after school so this is my outfit.” You say as you sit at the table with Barb and Melissa.

“You look wonderful y/n! Thomas will think so too!” Janine says and everyone else but Melissa agrees.

Melissa was shamelessly checking you out until you mentioned Thomas. When you did the little spin, she licked her lips.

“What do you think Melissa? You think it’s good?” You ask her, you value her opinion the most.

“Ya, like I said yesterday, you look beautiful no matter what.” She says and you blush.

“Thank you.” You tell her with a smile.

After school on Friday, you and Melissa are walking out while in conversation. Melissa nudges your shoulders softly as a response to what you said as you walk out of the building. You then see Thomas there to pick you up and you wave at him.

“Hey Thomas!” You say and make your way over to him. “Oh this is Melissa.”

“Hey! There’s the girl of the hour!” He says to you. “Wow you look amazing!” He says as he takes in your appearance. “Hi Melissa, it’s nice to finally meet you. Your sister and y/n here have talked about you.” He says to her.

“Nice to meet you too.” Melissa says with the best smile she can force out of herself. She wasn’t going to ruin this for you, she was going to be as supportive as she can, even if she has to fake a bunch of smiles. Inside she was seething though and it may have come out a little bit in her tone. She didn’t realise it but she was glaring at him every time she looked at him. You didn’t notice it but Thomas sure did and inside he was smirking.

“So y/n, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out on Sunday?” Melissa says and turns to you. “I’ve been forgetting to ask you.” In reality, she didn’t forget, she wasn’t originally going to hang out with you but after meeting Thomas, she feels like she has too. She wants to spend more time with you while she can.

“Oh sure, I’m not doing anything on Sunday. What time?” You say with a smile and she smiles back at you.

“Is noon ok with you?” She asks and you nod.

“Noon sounds perfect.” You tell her and she blushes.

“Alright well I’ll see you then.” She says and waves to you then goes to her car. While she turns to go to her car, she spares a glare at Thomas. You get into Thomas’s car and he drives out of the parking lot:

“Girl, she was jealous!” He tells you and you look at him and scoff.

“How would you know that? You barely even know her.” You tell him.

“You might not have seen it but she was glaring at me the entire time. Do you know how much control it took me to not jump up and down for you?” He says and you roll your eyes. “Come on, you like her and she obviously had feelings for you.” He says to you.

“What if you’re wrong?” You tell him.

“Well how about we keep up this pretend dating situation going on for a bit longer. Maybe she’ll actually confess.” He tells you.

“I don’t know.” You tell him.

On your first date with him, you guys were talking and confessed that you only went on it because of coworkers. You both also confessed that you’re both gay and haven’t come out to your coworkers yet. The entire week you’ve both been texting about your crushes, you about Melissa and Thomas about a guy named Bobby.

“Just a bit longer ok. And besides, I don’t think she was forgetting to tell you about wanting to hang out on Sunday. I think she thought of it after seeing me.” He tells you and you look at him. “I’m just saying.” He tells you and you snort.

He brings you both to a gay bar and you watch a drag show there. You both end up having a really good time. You may not have a relationship yet but you got a new friend out of this that you can be yourself with.

On Sunday you video chat Thomas around 10, you’re wondering what to wear to see Melissa.

“Just go with something similar to what you wore on Friday. Girl, she was checking you out hard.” He tells you dramatically and you roll your eyes with a smile. “Although if you want to be a little spicy, wear a shorter skirt and shorter crop top. Flash her some cleavage, she’ll go crazy.” He tells you and you smile. It wasn’t a bad idea, maybe you’ll see if she’s actually interested in you.

You end up wearing a pleather skirt and red crop top where it shows some cleavage. You see her wearing leather pants and red a lot so maybe if she sees you in something similar then it’ll catch her eye. You top it up with tights and heels that stop just below your knee. You show Thomas the final product and do a little spin. He claps at how you look with a big smile and does a little cat call whistle.

“Womaniser here, you go get your girl.” He says to you. You see the time and say goodbye to Thomas and go to Melissa’s house. You stopped to get her her favourite donuts from her place and then arrive at her place a couple minutes before noon. You grabbed the donuts and your purse and then go and knock on her door. Melissa opens it and she goes to say hi but then sees your outfit and she freezes. You look sexy to her and she unconsciously licks her lips. The action isn’t lost on you but still not enough proof that she likes you. She lets you in and you give her the box of donuts and she opens it and lights up.

“Omg! You got me my favourite donuts! Thanks hon.” She says and gives you a hug. You lean into her touch a little bit during the hug and you feel all warm inside and you have a smile on your face.

You two spend the day talking about anything and you munch on some snacks after you both finish the donuts, she of course offered you half. Melissa is having a great time listening to you talk and she never asks once how your date on Friday went, she doesn’t want to know.

She talks to you at some point about which one of her siblings has annoyed her during the week. It seems her second youngest sibling Toni has annoyed her the most this week. You giggle when she goes on about it and she blushes at you giggling and smiles. She finds you so adorable and she wishes you were hers and not with Thomas. She likes to think that the fact that you haven’t brought him up is a good sign. Melissa invites you to stay for dinner and you always accept.

“Hell ya, I would never miss an opportunity to eat your food.” You tell her and she beams.

She makes you your favourite Italian meal and you have a huge smile when you realise it. She went out and got the ingredients for it this morning, hoping to make it for you since it’ll make you happy. She gets butterflies in her stomach when she sees your big smile and how happy you were and she wants to do this more often. She wants to spend days like this with you more, and she wants to be able to lean in and kiss you when you’re this happy.

You watch a movie while you eat dinner and you let her choose the movie. She ends up choosing a horror film, knowing you like to cuddle into her during them as you get scared. You groan at her movie choice and she smirks at you.

“I’m sure it won’t be as bad as the last one.” She tells you, the last time you hid your face in her neck as you got really scared. Melissa knows it’s as scary as the last one but wants to be able to hold you again and have your face hiding in her neck. When you both finish dinner, it got to the point where the scary scenes were starting and you curl up beside her and she puts an arm around your shoulders. She sighs in content and rubs your arm a bit.

You whine a bit at a scary part and she brings you closer to her and you let her. At another point you jump and hide your face in her neck and she smiles while stroking your hair.

“It’s alright, I got you. You’re safe.” She tells you when you whimper in her neck. When the movie is over you don’t bother to move from your head on her neck and she doesn’t say anything. She just continues stroking your hair and you end up falling asleep on her. She hears your soft snores and she tucks the hair in your face behind your ear. She puts both her arms around you in a hug and sighs.

“Oh how I wish you were mine y/n.” She tells your sleeping form. She ends up putting a blanket on you two and manoeuvres you both so that you can both fall asleep on the couch. She doesn’t want to let you go and she falls asleep with you curled up in her arms, she kisses your head before she falls asleep and then has one of the best sleeps in her life.

Her happiness crashes down on her on Monday during lunch. You and Melissa are talking when Thomas comes in to surprise you and attempts to make Melissa jealous to get her to admit her feelings.

“Hey y/n!” He tells you and you turn around to look at him in shock.

You mouth ‘what the hell are you doing here?’ To him and he just comes over to you.

“I wanted to see you today and got the opportunity so I came to surprise you.” He says with a big smile.

Melissa feels her rage increase by the second. Thomas spares a glance at Melissa and sees the anger radiating off of her. Everyone tries to keep Melissa from doing anything by talking to Thomas to keep his attention off of you. Janine ends up doing most of the talking with him. His attention however turns to you and includes you in the conversation. Melissa finally snaps and storms over to put her lunch in the fridge and slams the door, then she storms out of the break room without saying a word.

Thomas turns to you with a smirk and you give him a glare. “What are you waiting for? Go and get your girl and calm her down before she retrieves her bat and hits my deeply moisturised face.” He says to you and everyone looks at you guys in shock. You hide your face in your hands before Barb pipes up.

“What’s going on here?” She asks and you sigh before turning to everyone.

“I’m gay alright.” You say and everyone gasps.

“So am I.” Thomas admits after you.

“We haven’t been dating, we’re friends and he took me to go see a drag show on Friday.” You tell them all. “Also, what the hell are you doing here?” You turn to him.

“Melissa got jealous, I told you she was jealous when she saw me on Friday.” He tells you and you sigh and cross your arms, he puts his hand up in surrender. “Hey, you wanted to know if she liked you back and girl, she got the feels for you.” He tells you and you miss everyone’s grin when he admits you like Melissa.

You go to find Melissa and when you get to her classroom, you find it locked and you go and knock on it. “Melissa, you in there?” You knock a couple of times and no one opens it so you assume Melissa isn’t in there and you go and check other places she could be.

Melissa was inside her classroom but chooses to ignore your knocking and just stews in anger in her classroom. She realises she can’t be around now if she reacts like that whenever Thomas is around. She doesn’t want to admit her feelings either so she chooses to do everything to avoid and ignore you, starting immediately.

You don’t get the chance to talk to her for the rest of the day, and at the end of the day you go to her classroom only to discover she’s already gone, she always waits for you. You run into Barb and she tells you to just give Melissa some space as she’s dealing with something. The something is her feelings for you but Barb doesn’t tell you that.

You take Barb’s advice and give Melissa space. You don’t try to start conversations with her, you sit with the trio at lunch instead, and you don’t bother to go see her at her classroom after school. This goes on for almost 2 weeks and you’ve had enough.

After school on Friday you go to her house, you knock on the door and she doesn’t answer. You then do insist knocking until she answers,

“Ok I’m coming I’m coming!” You hear from inside and then the door opens. Melissa sees you standing there and she’s shocked, you were the last person she expected to see. “Y/n.” She says softly and surprised.

“What the hell is going on with you?!?” You ask, a bit angry and upset with her. You see Melissa looks stunned at your mini outburst but she doesn’t say anything. “I mean we’re really good friends and all of a sudden you start ignoring me like I’m a fucking plague and I don’t even know why. You act the same with everyone else though, everyone except me! So what the fuck Melissa?” You add and she looks down for a few seconds.

“I’m sorry.” Is all she says.

“You’re sorry? I don’t want an apology Melissa, I want an explanation.” You tell her and cross your arms. She steps aside and lets you in, she’d rather do this inside instead of at her door where people could watch. You go inside and stand beside her couch. “So? What’s going on with you?” You ask her and she cautiously steps closer to you.

“I’m jealous ok.” She says and you look at her with wide eyes.

“Jealous? Of who?” You ask her.

“Thomas.” Is all she says and looks at your reaction and you’re surprised.

“Of Thomas? Why would you be jealous of Thomas?” You ask her. You know that Thomas thinks Melissa likes you and you have the idea that maybe she is but don’t want to get your hopes up.

“Because I have feelings for you and you’re dating him.” She says like it’s obvious and you gasp.

“You have feelings for me?” You ask her and she nods. “Melissa, Thomas and I aren’t dating, we’re both gay.” You tell her and she looks at you stunned.

“What?”

“Ya, we’re both gay. Wait, Barb didn’t tell you? The day that Thomas came, we told everyone we’re both gay after you stormed out.” You tell her.

“She didn’t tell me. She did try and push me to talk to you though for these past 2 weeks.” She says with a small smile.

“Melissa, I have feelings for you too. When I hang out with Thomas or text him, I mostly talk about you, and he talks about his crush on this guy named Bobby.” You tell her and she sucks in a breath.

“You like me?” She asks and you nod.

“How could I not like you? I mean you’re the whole package. You’re short tempered, big heart, amazing cook, you’re ginger, into women, and also drop dead gorgeous.” You say and walk closer with every word until you’re right in front of her.

You can see her blush at your words and looks down at the ground for a second then looks back up at you, with a smile on her face. “You forgot one.” She tells you and you tilt your head at her. “You forgot that I’m crazy about you.” She tells you and you smile. “You know I’m surprised that you’ve never had a relationship before.”

“Oh ya? And why’s that?” You ask and she takes your hands in hers.

“Because, you’re kind, gentle, stubborn, into women as well, stunning, and you love cuddles when watching a horror movie which is cute.” She tells you.

“Hmm, did you pick horror movies just to cuddle with me?” You ask her and she nods proudly. “I should have known.” You say and lean into her and cup her cheek. “You forgot one as well.” You tell her as she leans into you. “I’m crazy about you.” You tell her and she blushes then she closes the gap.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

Let me know if you want to be added!

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 21 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary - you and Spencer both make decisions you can’t come back from.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - past sexual abuse of a child, swearing, tears, murder, cheating, brief mention of oral (f receiving), vomit, pregnancy symptoms, double crossing, blood, stab wounds, death of a father, bruises, aggression, use of “whore”.

WC - 5.8k

Chapter 21 - Miss Mysterious

The clock on the wall chimed twelve times in quick succession, echoing around the otherwise silent room. Spencer sat on the edge of the coffee table, the SIG still pointed at his father, who hadn’t moved from the armchair. 

He didn’t know what he was so hesitant about, he could have easily killed him by now and been out of the house and on his way back to Caesars but something was stopping him. 

Did he want an explanation? And even if he got one, nothing in the world could excuse what his dad had done to him or anyone else. His dad was a sick and twisted person who had abused his own son’s trust and ripped little pieces of his soul away every single time he crawled into his bed in the middle of the night. 

His fathers actions had affected him in more ways than he’d ever even realised. Of course there was the obvious, his building of walls, his inability to get close to people. It had taken until he was twenty six before he was intimate with a woman for the first time. And he’d shut himself in the bathroom afterwards and cried and it was a long time before sex didn’t make him that emotional. 

It had later manifested itself in his dominance in the bedroom. You weren’t the first person he’d treated that way in bed, it had become a pattern for him. He had to take back his power by being in control and never submitting to anyone else in that way again. In doing so he was able to harness his emotions afterwards and not have to indulge in a post-coital sob. 

But there were repercussions from his fathers abuse in which he had never really noticed until now. When he’d finally been pushed over the edge to kill, every single man he had ended the life of was simply a surrogate. Each one was around his father’s age, all violent and evil human beings. Each man was a substitute for the real target of his rage. A rage he hadn’t realised had been building for over thirty years until right now. 

William Reid was Spencer’s ultimate boogeyman, the monster lurking in every shadow. He was Spencer’s Goliath and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to slay him. He just had to focus and not let himself get dragged down this dark rabbit hole. But it may be too late. 

He could still hear the sound of a zipper cutting through his mind in that room that was supposed to be his place of solace. He could see his fathers manic eyes as they loomed over him in the darkness. He could feel those rough hands all over his body and hear his own cries which his father simply ignored.

Daddy, please! You don’t have to do this. 

He felt his hand shaking as he held the gun, hot tears pooling behind his eyes. He sniffed them back, not willing to give his father the satisfaction of seeing him cry again. He clenched his jaw firmly, grinding his teeth in a furious fashion and sat forward, elbows resting on his knees. 

“You ruined my life.” Spencer croaked, his voice so unlike himself.

“I made you stronger.” William countered, narrowing his eyes on Spencer. “I was teaching you how to be a man.”

“Oh yeah? And how is that?” Spencer’s brows furrowed in angry confusion.

“You were so weak, pathetic, really. You never would have been able to take care of yourself. I was showing you the harsh realities of the world, you needed to learn that to get by in this life you have to be strong, grow a thick skin. I helped you.” William shrugged.

“Helped me?” Spencer spat, hand shaking violently. “You think molesting me helped me?” 

“That’s such an ugly word, Spencer.” William rolled his eyes. “But yes.”

“You’re full of shit.” Spencer jumped to his feet, proffering the SIG closer to his dad. “Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night? That you fucking helped me? What about the other’s? Did you help them too?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” William shrugged again. 

“Cut the crap, dad. I know there were other boys. A sexual predator doesn’t just stop unless someone stops him.” 

William slowly pushed himself up with the use of the arms of the chair. He was shorter than Spencer by a few inches, he’d gotten his height from his mother. Thankfully he’d gotten most things from his mom and not this man in front of him. 

“Let’s not talk about the others, Spencer.” William smiled at him. “You were the only one I cared about.” 

“Fuck you.” Spencer sniffed again as his eyes welled with tears once more. “You didn’t care about me. If you cared about me you wouldn’t have done what you did. I’m your son for fuck sake! You were supposed to keep me safe from monsters, not be one.”

“Of course I cared about you. I love you, Spencer.” William raised one arm and moved to stroke the side of Spencer’s face but Spencer quickly slapped him away with his free hand.

William, although frail looking, was fast and managed to grab Spencer by the wrist and circle his fingers around it. He noticed his dad’s eyes cast down to the silver band on his finger before looking back up to meet his eyes. 

“You’re married?” William frowned. 

“Yes.” Spencer tugged his arm free of his dad’s hold. 

“Does she know what you really are?” A smirk tugged at the older man’s lips. 

“She knows I’m a murderer.” Spencer spat, proffering the gun closer again. “I’ve killed multiple men just like you, the scum of the earth who need to pay for their crimes. And she loves me for it. She respects me for it.” 

“And let me guess, it's my fault you turned out this way?” William sighed as if he was bored. 

“Who else's fault would it be?” 

“Your wack job mother, perhaps? How many times did you witness her being violent towards me when you were young?” 

“I’m sure it wasn’t anything you didn’t deserve. And seeing my mom lash out from time to time when she didn’t take her meds and having my father sexually abuse me are two very different things!” Spencer raised his voice, spitall flying from his mouth in rage. 

“You got all your worst traits from her, you know?” William kept his cool. “Volatile, over dramatic. It’s a shame you didn’t turn out more like me.” 

“I’ll never be anything like you.” Spencer straightened his back, tried to rein himself in.

“Oh Spencer, you're already so much more like me than you realise.” William chuckled darkly and it made Spencer’s stomach turn. 

“That’s not true.” Spencer shook his head.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” William stepped closer to him and Spencer should have just shot him but he didn’t. He let his father come close to his ear and he closed his eyes when he felt the older man's breath against his face. “I killed Riley Jenkins.” 

Spencer stumbled on his feet, feeling his stomach somersaulting wildly and he briefly worried he might throw up. His father was cackling maniacally at the look on his son's face.

“No, that’s not true.” Spencer lowered the gun without meaning to. 

“The truth is Riley had more guts than you and he was going to tell his father what I did to him. So I had to kill him.” William didn’t show a hint of remorse for his actions, in fact he looked proud of himself. “So if you kill me, you’re only proving my point that you’re just like me.”

“No.” Spencer’s tears wouldn’t stay contained anymore and they started to fall. “No, I’m nothing like you.” 

“Put the gun down and walk away, son. Prove you’re not like me” William smirked at him.

“I…I can’t.” Spencer shook his head frantically. 

“Spencer,” William suddenly turned stern. “Put the gun down and walk away.”

“N-no.” Spencer’s lip quivered.

William exhaled loudly and before Spencer knew what was happening, his father advanced on him, managing to free the gun from Spencer’s hand before Spencer even saw him coming. With his other hand he swiftly punched Spencer in the stomach and when his son doubled over in pain from the blow, he grabbed him by the hair, tugged him one way and then shoved him to the floor. 

Spencer groaned as he hit the carpet but noted the knife hadn’t dislodged from his waistband. His father stood over him, pointing his own gun down at him and looking at him in frustration. 

“I don’t want to kill you, Spencer. But if the choice is between me and you then I will not hesitate in pulling this trigger.” William spat.

Spencer rolled onto his back, making sure the blade stayed concealed from his fathers vision. It was his only way out of this, he needed the element of surprise on his side. He just had to work out how to unsheath it and get one up on his dad before the other man got off a shot. 

“You want to kill me, go ahead.” Spencer shrugged, tears still silently rolling down his cheeks. “You’ve already taken everything from me, I kind of wish you’d killed me when I was a kid so I didn’t have to live with the memories of what you did to me. So just do it. Put me out of my misery.”

William swallowed, lifting his arm a little and aiming the muzzle right at Spencer’s skull. His hands were steady, tightly wrapped around the butt of the SIG and looking like he may well actually shoot Spencer and probably sleep easy afterwards. 

If Spencer didn’t act fast he was as good as dead. But he refused to let it end this way, at the hands of his abuser. He had to formulate a plan and enact it to perfection or he would die on this shitty carpet, in this crappy house and the last thing he would have seen would be the eyes of the man who molested him.

***

At some point you probably should have stopped to think about Spencer but honestly, he was the furthest thing from your mind. Not even your wedding band could distract from the intense pleasure that Jesse was bestowing upon you, quite frankly you could barely remember your own name. 

You’d lost count of how many times you’d imagined what his beard would feel like between your legs and tonight you’d finally been privy to it. The friction from his rough facial hair made the experience even more incredible than any other time you’d ever been eaten out before, and you found yourself grinding against his face to feel more of it.

He made you come with complete ease, as though he wasn’t even trying and when he sat back and wiped his hand over his mouth he was smiling sinfully at you.

“Jesus Christ.” You panted, still slightly writhing on the couch beneath him. 

“That’s half the reason I keep the beard.” He chuckled, laying down on top of you.

“What’s the other half?” You wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“How good it makes me look.” He kissed you again and you tasted yourself on his lips.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer and using one hand to pop the button on his jeans. You were both still fully dressed, too desperate for each other to think about undressing. But you wanted to see more of him, if this was the last chance you got to be with him, you needed to commit him to memory. 

As if reading your mind, whilst you worked on shimming his pants down to his thighs he made quick work of getting his shirt off. You pulled him back closer to you, nestling him between your legs and your hands starting to graze over the tattoo on his peck.  

But then your stomach suddenly lurched in a way you’d gotten all too used to recently and suddenly you were shoving him away and jumping to your feet. 

Jesse fell back to the couch, staring at the back of your head as you sprinted to the bathroom. He heard the toilet seat being lifted and moments later the sound of you retching reached his ears. 

He pulled a face, tucking himself away as he got to his feet, cautiously following in your tracks. He found you kneeling over the toilet seat, head in the basin while you violently vomited. 

“Are you ok?” He approached you, sitting down on the edge of the bath and stroking your back. 

“Hmm.” You grumbled, sitting back once you expelled yourself and wiping your mouth. “That’s been happening a lot lately. It’s nothing to do with you, I swear.” 

“I should hope not.” He laughed, rubbing circles between your shoulder blades. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” You frowned up at him. 

“You’re pregnant right?” He frowned back at you. 

“No?” You shuffled backwards out of his touch. 

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Sorry, with the vomiting I just assumed. And I don’t mean this in the completely perverted way it’s going to sound, but I haven’t even seen you shirtless tonight and I can tell your breasts are huge. Bigger than I remember and I remember them pretty well.” 

“I…I don’t even know what to say to that.” You glanced down at your chest where your dress was stained with the drink you’d spilled. 

“Have you had any other signs? Urinating more regularly? Strange cravings or aversions to things?” He asked with a soft smile. 

You felt the colour drain from your face, feeling like you could throw up again. The signs had been there staring you in the face and you’d ignored them. But surely you couldn’t be? 

“I, uh, maybe? No. I don’t know.” You pushed yourself up to your feet. 

“When was the last time you had a period?” Jesse stood as well. 

“Too personal.” You shook your head with a groan. 

“Y/N, come on.” He cocked his eyebrow at you. 

“I don’t know.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “They’ve never been all that reliable and I have been pretty stressed recently. There is no way, I cannot be pregnant.” 

“I should probably go.” Jesse smiled sadly at you. “This was a really bad idea, wasn’t it?”

“It certainly wasn’t a good idea.” You felt your eyes welling with tears although you didn’t know why. “I’m so sorry. I wish he didn’t have this hold over me.” 

“It’s called love, Y/N.” Jesse tucked your hair behind your ear. “You love him and you shouldn’t apologise for that.” 

“Maybe I don’t? I don’t know.” You shook your head. 

“Answer me something,” Jesse folded his arms over his still bare chest. “You killed Mary because she was threatening him.”

“That’s not a question.” 

“No, I know.” He chuckled lightly. “My question is: would you have done that for anyone else? For example, would you have killed her if she was threatening me?” 

“No.” You didn’t hesitate. “No I wouldn’t have.” 

“And that’s because you love him.” Jesse shrugged. 

“But loving him makes me feel like such an idiot.”

“Now you know how I feel.” He smiled wistfully at you. “I really should go before he comes back. How long are you in town for?” 

“Just tonight, I think.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. 

“Far to travel?”

“I’m not falling into that trap.” You smirked at him. 

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He laughed. “Stay safe, Y/N. And if you are pregnant, good luck. For what it’s worth I think you’d make a great mom.” 

“Did you forget the part where I confessed to murder?” You frowned at him. 

“We all make mistakes.” He started walking backwards towards the door. “Take me for example, I was about to sleep with a married and potentially pregnant woman.” 

You followed him out into the living room and smiled to yourself as you got a great eye full of his ass, even if it was inside his jeans, as he bent down to pick up his shirt. You made sure to commit that to memory. 

You watched him put the shirt back ok, also trying to memorise every one of those tattoos adorned his body. He sidled closer to you again and cupped your face gently in his hands. 

“We can’t keep meeting in bars, Y/N.” He chuckled lightly. “It has to be goodbye this time.” 

“I still think you followed me here.” You teased him and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. 

“You wish.” He chuckled, reluctantly letting go of your face. 

He took a few steps backwards towards the suite door and you had to force yourself not to follow him. He gave you a sad half-smile as he exhaled heavily and opened the door, stepping out into the corridor.

“See ya, I guess.” You shrugged, once again wrapping your arms around yourself. 

“That’s you’re parting words to me? See ya, I guess?” He chuckled with a shake of his head. 

“What do you want me to say?” You laughed. 

“What I want you to say and what you can actually say are two very different things.” He rubbed his beard. “So let’s leave it at, see ya, I guess.” 

With that he offered you a wave and reached for the door handle, closing it behind himself. And just like he was gone. 

You stumbled over to the couch and collapsed onto it, your head spinning with the evening's activities. You’d really fucked up this time. Being with Jesse back in Butte was ok because you and Spencer hadn’t really been married. But now you were married and you’d let yourself get caught up in Jesse once more. 

Maybe in a way Spencer deserved it for the way he’d treated you in the past. You’d blindly followed him only for him to treat you like dirt. Sure things had been better lately but you never knew where you stood with him and truthfully, you weren’t sure if you felt safe with him. 

And what the fuck happened if Jesse was right and you were actually pregnant? Bringing a baby into this messed up situation, to be raised by two killers? That didn’t even bear thinking about. 

He had to be wrong. There was no way you could be. You were on the pill…

…fuck. 

You were on the pill. Right up until Spencer had talked you into leaving DC and you’d left your contraceptive behind in your hurry to leave. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

***

Jesse McGill took the elevator down to the ground floor and found a quiet area in the lobby before pulling out his cell phone. He ran his hand over his beard with a large sigh, a wave of emotions crashing down around him. 

He gnawed frantically on his lip as he pulled up the number he’d received a call from yesterday and then held it to his ear. It was answered on the third ring. 

“Did you do it?” The hurried voice came down the line. 

“I did what you asked. I saw her but I didn’t see Spencer and she didn’t say where he was.” Jesse sighed, he didn’t feel good about this at all. 

“Did you ask her about Mary?” 

“Yes.” 

“And?” 

Jesse closed his eyes. He had two options here but he had no idea which was the best one. He could lie and say you wouldn’t tell him anything about what happened to Mary, which wouldn’t be completely unexpected. He could tell the truth, tell them that you confessed to killing her but you wouldn’t give up where the body was buried. 

Or, he could go with option number three. He could tell a combination of the truth and a lie.��

He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled loudly wondering how the hell he’d gotten himself into this situation in the first place. 

“Well? What did she say?” The voice came again, impatience riddled in their tone. 

“Mary’s dead.” Jesse opened his eyes again, making his decision as he spoke. “Spencer killed her.” 

“Goddamnit. I knew it!” The other man growled, slamming something loudly and causing an echo down the phone. “Did she say anything else?”

“No. She told me the body was buried somewhere it would never be found. Apparently Mary was blackmailing Spencer and he just-”

“I don’t care why he did it.” The man scoffed. “And she didn’t give you any indication of where they’re living or anything like that?” 

“No, I tried, I really tried. But she’s not stupid.” Jesse pushed his back up against the wall, eyes fluttering between people entering and leaving Caesars. 

“You know you did the right thing, Jesse? I know you probably don’t feel good about this, but you did the right thing. It’s not her we want, it’s Spencer. I’ll make sure she’s protected.” 

“I know, but it feels fucking rotten.” Jesse sighed again. “What happens now?”

“That’s not for you to worry about. We’ve got this from here. Get a room for the night, it’s late, catch a flight home tomorrow. Let me know how much they cost and I’ll ensure you get reimbursed.” 

“I don’t care about that.” Jess shook his head. “I liked her and I feel like I’ve betrayed her.” 

“You did the right thing.” The voice repeated. “I promise I only want what’s best for her. And that’s to get her away from Spencer. You’ve been a huge help. Thanks again Jesse.” 

Jesse hated being a part of this, depised that he’d been dragged into this fucked up mess. He’d meant it when he told you he loved you which only made this harder. But they say if you love someone you have to let them go, if they return they were always yours and if they don’t, they never were. 

He knew exactly which one you were. 

“Agent Alvez?” Jesse blurted out. He closed his eyes as if it might somehow relieve his guilt before he spoke again. “There is one more thing you should know…”

***

Spencer leant against the wall in the elevator as it made its ascent, staring at the closed metal doors while he tried to piece his night back together. 

Everything that happened after his dad shoved him to the floor and took his gun was a blur. His stomach ached, he wouldn’t be surprised if his father had left him with a nasty bruise. His fist had clipped him right in the steadily healing scar from the knife wound you'd inflicted on him months ago. 

He remembered the pain, he remembered trying to think of a way to free the knife from the back of his pants. But it was like at some point he blacked out because the next thing he knew he was standing over his fathers dead body covered in blood. 

He’d counted forty three stab wounds in his fathers torso, sliced like Swiss cheese and damn near eviscerated. The man who had molested him, his biggest demon was dead. And the most poetically tragic part was that Spencer didn’t remember killing him. 

Maybe the haze would clear and over time he’d be able to piece the events back together. It was possible his brain was trying to protect him from the trauma of recollecting the murder of his father, but if it had safeguarded him from the memories of being eight years old, there wouldn’t have been the need to kill William in the first place. 

He’d cleaned up the crime scene, the messiest one he’d ever had to face due to the amount of blood that wept from those forty three wounds. He put his fathers body in the trunk of the Impala and found a sweater in the backseat which was lucky given the amount of blood on his hoodie. 

He stood in his fathers bathroom and stared at his reflection. His face and neck were splattered in the red sticky substance and his hands were almost entirely covered. He cleaned himself off the best he could and before he knew it he was driving away from the house. 

He stumbled through the lobby of Caesars as if he were drunk, his brain felt that kind of intoxicated haze too. He made it up to his floor and slotted his key in the door. In all honesty, after the events of the night, he completely forgot you’d be there. So when he shoved up the door and found you sitting on the couch in the suite, he had to blink a few times as he tried to piece back moments from earlier in the day. 

You pushed yourself to your feet, taking a few steps towards Spencer, your brows furrowed at his obvious confusion. 

“You ok?” You didn’t come too close, you were wary of him. 

“Uh, yeah.” He swallowed before clearing his throat. “Yeah I think so.” 

“You’ve been gone for hours.” You rolled your lips between your teeth. 

“I have?” He rubbed one of his eyes. 

“Are you drunk?” 

“No, no. Not drunk. Tired, maybe?” He questioned himself. “I should probably…I don’t know, sleep or something.” 

He started in your direction and moved past you and as he did so you caught the familiar smell of blood. That coupled with the tiny red drop you’d noticed on the side of his neck confirmed your theory about where he’d been.

“Did you get your phone?” You asked as he passed you. 

He turned back to you, squinting a little, clearly confused. 

“Uh…” he swallowed again. “Sure.” 

“Spencer?” You folded your arms over your chest. 

“Yeah?” 

“Who’d you kill?” 

He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply through his nose. He should have known you’d see right through him. 

“No one. It’s nothing.” He mumbled, opening his eyes again. 

“You have blood on your neck. And I’m pretty certain if you took your sweater off your shirt would be covered in blood.” You took another step forward. “Who’d you kill?” 

He sighed over dramatically, by way of telling you he didn’t want to be having this conversation. He rubbed his eyes, subsequently helping to clear the daze he’d been in and looked at you curiously, as though it was his first time seeing you. You noticed his eyes flick to your bicep and you followed his gaze, only then realising your mistake. 

You involuntarily raised your other hand and placed it over the flashing beacon that had been left behind on your arm, a symbol of your infidelity. 

“What have you done to your arm?” He grinded his teeth, loud enough that you could hear it. 

“I must have, uh, walked into something I guess.” 

“No. Nuh uh.” He shook his head, advancing on you and roughly tugging your hand away from the array of bruises around your bicep. “Try again.” 

“I don’t know where they came from.” You whimpered. 

“You’re lying.” He spat. “I’ve left enough bruises on you to know they are from someone’s fingers.” 

He wrapped his own hand around your arm just lower than where the red mark was adorned on your skin. 

“I guess you must have done it then. We did have sex earlier.” 

“No.” He shook his head. “That wasn’t me. Who the fuck did this to you?” 

“N-no one.” You chewed heavily on your lip, teeth digging deeply into the flesh. 

“No one? So you’re just magically producing bruises?” He snarled at you. 

“No.” You pouted. “Stop changing the subject. Who’s blood is on you?” 

“Who gave you these bruises?” He countered, still holding your arm. 

“Who did you kill?”

“Who hurt you?” 

You were at a stalemate, glaring at each other wildly, neither one of you wanting to admit the truth to the other. You’d rather he hurt you than admit that you’d cheated on him. And he’d rather die than tell you about what his father had done to him.

He suddenly let go of your arm and huffed loudly, stepping backwards and raking his fingers through his hair. 

“What are you keeping from me?” He mumbled as if talking to himself. 

“We all have secrets, Spencer.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “You more so than anyone. So you don’t get to be angry at me if I choose not to tell you everything.” 

He glared at you, rage filled eyes scrutinising you in a way he’d never looked at you both. 

“Who the fuck even are you?” He shook his head. “I don’t even recognise what you’ve become.” 

“Me?” You spat. “Whatever I’ve become you turned me into!” 

“I made you!” He growled. “And this is how you repay me? Lying to me and keeping secrets?” 

“What can I say? I learnt from the best!” Your anger rose rapidly. “I should have known you were lying to me tonight. You butter me up with up sex and leave me here alone while you go out and kill even though I’ve proven to you time and time again that you can trust me! So yeah I went downstairs to the bar and I thought, hey, if my husband doesn’t want to spend time with me, maybe someone else will.” 

“You did what?” He snapped, suddenly grabbing you roughly by both arms and pushing you back against the nearest wall. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

“What if I did?” You snarled, refusing to show your fear. “What are you gonna do about it?” 

“Who was he? I’ll fucking kill him!” He slammed you into the wall. 

“You’ll do no such thing.” 

“I cant fucking believe you! How could you do that to me? I married you! And now you’re picking up random men in bars? Have some self respect!” He was really close to your face and the metallic smell was overwhelming. 

“Since day one in this relationship you have done whatever you want to do and not given me a second thought. Why should I give your feelings any consideration when you give mine none? You just hate that I’ve grown a fucking back bone!” You fought against him but he was stronger.

“You think cheating on your husband is the same as my trying to protect you from what I’m doing?” 

“Project me? Oh please.” You scoffed. “I have killed three people Spencer, I don’t need protecting.” 

“Who was he?” He asked again, slamming you into the wall once more. “Or did you even stop to get his name before you spread your legs for him?” 

“Fuck you!” You screamed in his face.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you little whore. What kind of man fucks a married woman? A married woman he just picked up in a bar who he doesn’t even know? It actually says more about the man himself than you.”

“Fuck you!” You repeated, louder this time. “Jesse is twice the man you’ll ever be!” 

It was a complete slip of the tongue. You didn’t think you meant to implicate Jesse in that way but your rage had taken over. 

Spencer suddenly softened and his hands fell from your arms to his sides and he stumbled backwards like you’d punched him in the gut. He blinked at you as you kept yourself pressed against the wall.

“Jesse?” He croaked. “As in that fucking mountain man? He was here? You and him…? You really know how to fucking hurt me, don’t you?” 

He fell back to the couch and put his head in his hands. He thought you loved him, he thought he knew you. Maybe it was all an act that he’d fallen for hook, line and sinker. Maybe he’d never really known you, maybe he never would. Maybe you’d been on completely different pages all along. 

When had your heart ceased to beat for him, when had it turned numb? He loved you with every fibre of his being but perhaps it was time he let you go. 

Because as he looked at you now, he had no idea who you were. Behind your eyes you were a perfect stranger disguised as the woman he loved. You were nothing more than a mysterious effigy of the heart you’d broken. 

Miss Mysterious, who are you?

Who's the girl behind those eyes? Just a stranger in disguise?

Miss Mysterious, who could you be?

Where's the ghost of what we had? Did you erase it from your past?

Oh, so I pointed in every direction,

Oh well, looking for answers I'll never know.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

Or let me know when your heart went numb.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

The saying goes "if you love someone let them go".

Miss Mysterious, may I ask:

Is your sunshine like my rain? Is your pleasure like my pain?

So delirious, casting your stones,

With the blood fall to my face,

Hoping that you'll lose your aim.

Oh, well it looks so bright with the lights out,

Oh well, I guess our stars forgot how to glow.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

Or let me know when your heart went numb.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

The saying goes "if you love someone let them go".

No baby you, you broke my heart,

Now how do I get closure when you're only ever closed off?

Tell me who could take your place?

When these memories are telling me,

That we were not always,

Now don't even try to tell me that I should just relax,

And we're not strangled and over the tracks.

I tried to reach, I stretch out my hand but you turned around instead,

So many nights living inside just to connect with you.

Now I'm trying hard to win this but we've lost all we can lose,

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

Or let me know when your heart went numb.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right?

The saying goes "if you love someone let them go".

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

Or let me know when your heart went numb.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

The saying goes "if you love someone".

Said if you love someone,

Now if you love someone,

Let them go.

Let them go.

@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom @nomajdetective @rebelliousstories

[scarlethexelove]

If possible could you do a intersex kate bishop x Stark fem reader where Kate and reader are rivals with alot of tension towards each other and soon they begin to have a argument/fight that turns into a love confession with reader and Kate ending up sleeping together and reader becoming pregnant with Kate's child

I Love You, You Idiot

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Stark!Reader

Word Count: 4804

Warnings: Intersex Kate, Little bit of angst, Smut, Some fluff, being shot, being trapped, Kate's got a big dick (Yes that needs to be a warning in itself), unexpected pregnancy, throwing up, blood draw, soft protective Tony, Mentions of torture, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of being skinned, Scars, Kind of a frenemies vibe, P in V, unprotected sex, Little bit rough sex, Choking, Maybe more I can't think of

A/n: I loved writing this one. Sorry it took so long. I knew this one was going to get long and I hope you like it. I would definitely be up for adding some more to this in the future.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

You grunt as you pull yourself off the floor. Pain coursing through your shoulder, arm, and head as you look around the room. Pallets of equipment covered in tarps surround the room. A dim light only lets you see the center of the room. You look towards the exit but it is covered in rubble leaving you with no way out. Kate had shot an explosive arrow which had went terribly wrong. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Your eyes land on the raven haired girl who is dusting herself off. “What’s wrong with me? What is wrong with you? You pushed me.” Kate shoots back at you. Anger now taking over and making you forget about the pain you’re in. 

Your Dad Tony Stark sent you on this mission with Kate. You and her don’t get along, always bickering and trying to one up the other. Most of the Avengers know that you both can’t stand to be in the same room with one another so why did your father send you out with her of all people. It’s not that you don’t find the girl endearing but she just, you don’t know how to put your finger on it. This mission was supposed to be easy in and out but that all changed in a matter of moments. 

“I had to push you you idiot or did you want to fucking die?” You scoff as you jump and sit on one of the pallets. Grimacing when you poke at the bullet wound adorning your left arm not even being able to lift it to get a better look at the wound. Kate’s features soften for a moment as she sees your condition. You look up at her and see her shifting as she looks at you just causing you to scowl. “Oh so you had a death wish, got it. Next time leave me the fuck out of it.” Kate quickly snaps out of it. “If you hadn’t pushed me then we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Her arms cross over her chest as she huffs. You roll your eyes. “Kate, that agent would have shot you if I hadn’t pushed you out of the way.” You notice how Kate’s nostrils flare when she is angry. “I would have been fine. I would have gotten him.” 

Your patience is already wearing thin as your arm bleeds and you can now feel blood trickling down your face from your head. “He would have killed you, but I took the damn bullet.” You shake your head at the other girl and she shakes her head. “I could have gotten him.” You groan at her arrogance. “No you wouldn't, you didn’t even see him.” Kate just scoffed. She doesn’t want to admit she is wrong and that you are right. “Well if he was going to kill me why did you save me hmm? I thought you hated me.” Kate counters. You don't know what to say. You don’t hate her at all. Yes she annoys the hell out of you but she is a good person and someone that you can rival with. “Why did you do it Y/n?” She raises her voice. When you still stay quiet she yells. “Why the fuck did you save me if you hate me so much?” 

“Because I fucking love you you idiot!” You yell back before going quiet and looking down. You honestly didn’t expect for that to come out of you and neither did Kate. Her jaw dropped as the room was completely silent. It takes her a moment to comprehend what you said. “W-what.” That is when the panic starts to build in you. You just told Kate that you love her. You hadn’t even accepted the fact in your mind before your heart took over and made you yell it out. Kate couldn’t lie she has always found you attractive and hated to admit that she was falling for you even though you bicker all the time. She just thought nothing could ever happen since you obviously hated her but she knows that she was wrong now. 

You can’t bring yourself to look at her as you try to take part of your suit off. You need to check your wound and you want to forget that you just admitted feeling you haven’t fully grasped. “I-It’s nothing.” You mumble. You whimper when you can’t get your suit from off your shoulder. 

Kate snaps out of her stupor when she hears you whimper in pain. She quickly makes her way over to you. “I think your shoulder is dislocated.” You hadn’t noticed how close Kate had gotten until you looked up startled. You don’t say anything and just nod. “Let me help.” You want to push her away and deal with it yourself but you know you can’t so you just nod again. “Okay.” 

Kate looks over you to assess your injuries. When her explosive arrow went off it sent you flying into the wall. Your shoulder taking most of the impact and your head hitting against the wall. Blood drips down your face from the cut on your head. A sliver of it peaking through your hairline. All of the anger washes away as she sees the bullet wound adorning your arm. You were right and she might have been dead if you hadn’t pushed her out of the way. Your left side taking the brunt of all your injuries. Kate uses what Clint has taught her in order to treat you in the field. She helps get your suit down until it is sitting around your hips but you are wearing a long sleeve black shirt underneath. Kate hesitates before asking. “May I?” 

You’re worried about Kate seeing you without your shirt on. Some of your past is only known to a select few outside of your immediate family. Four people to be exact Fury, Steve, Natasha, and Wanda. But you know for her to be able to help you she needs more access so you nod once again. A lump forming in your throat as she carefully removes your shirt. If she sees the scars she isn’t letting on but you know she can see them and you're thankful that she isn’t bringing attention to them. 

It’s mostly silent other than your grunts and whimpers of pain as Kate pops your shoulder back in place and dresses your wounds. Leaving you thankful for the silence but the room is tense. Once Kate is done you look up at her and give her a soft smile. “Thank you.” It’s barely above a whisper but she hears it. Kate is about to speak before you cut her off. “I’m sorry.” Tears shine in your eyes not meeting her gaze. So many emotions are flooding you and you are struggling to hold onto one. “What for?” Kate asks you. “For everything. I was mean and spiteful to you for no reason. Well, more like I was scared.” Kate’s gaze softens. “Scared of what?” You struggle to find the right words to say. “Scared of what you would think of me. Scared of feelings that I don’t understand.” You look up at her and she sees the tears shining in your eyes. “I thought if I pushed you away and just was, I don’t know meaner to you I could just get rid of those feelings. I thought it would be better if you just hated me instead. But instead you made me fall for you more and I know that now. You don’t have to accept anything from me and you can hate me. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry.” 

Kate takes the chance she cups your cheeks leaning in and kissing you. You're surprised but soon reciprocate the kiss. You don’t even realize how heated the kiss has gotten until Kate pulls away and you're breathing heavier. She leans her forehead against yours and whispers. “I love you too Y/n.” You look into her eyes for any hint of doubt but all you find is truth. Kate pulls back slightly her hands moving to your waist. Your legs wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer just wanting to feel closer to her. 

That is when you feel it. Her bulge in her pants and you can tell just from the short make out session that it definitely stirred something within her. Kate notices that you can tell and starts to pull away. “I-I’m sorry.” You wrap your legs around her tighter and shake your head. “I want you Kate, please.” You grind your hips lightly making the other girl groan. “R-right here?” You don’t know where some of this confidence has come from but with your good arm you cup her cheek in your hand and rub gently. “Katie we are kind of stuck here and I just want to feel you.” Your words flipping a switch in her grip on your waist tightening. “Fuck.” She groans. 

Kate is quick to help rid you of the rest of your suit. Tossing it to the side already sees a wet patch forming on your underwear. She bites her lip admiring your body. You normally would be self conscious of your body but the look in Kate’s eyes has that washing away. Letting yourself be vulnerable with her. She doesn’t seem to care about the scars that litter your body. She only sees the beauty in your strength. 

A finger hooks into the waistband of your underwear as Kate slides them down your thighs until they fall to the ground. Your body is now naked in front of the fully dressed woman but not for long. Kate eagerly strips down until she is only in a sports bra and boxers. You can see her cock straining against the fabric. You reach out for her, wanting her to come closer, but she takes her time. Finally pulling her boxers down and letting her cock spring free. She is much larger than you had expected. Kate notices your look of shock which makes her feel a little self conscious. She is about to step back when you reach for her again. “Katie.” She hesitates for a moment so you speak again. “I’ve never taken anything… anyone so big before.” Kate relaxes, finally stepping closer to you, slotting herself between your legs. “If at any point it becomes too much, let me know and I’ll stop.” She gets closer, the tip of her cock bumping your clit making you groan. 

“Please Katie.” Your need and want for her taking over. Kate just chuckles with one hand on her cock as she looks down slowly, swiping it through your folds. Coating it in your juices. She hasn’t even done anything yet and you're already a dripping mess. She is entranced by your dripping pussy as she keeps teasing you. You whine a little and buck your hips but that doesn’t stop her teasing. You start to grow frustrated. “Stop teasing and just fuck me already.” You're barely able to get the words out before Kate is thrusting her length into you. Her cock splitting you open and stretching your walls further than ever before. 

“O-oh fuck.” You gasp. Kate takes a minute with her hands going back to grip at your hips. “Shit so fucking tight.” Kate starts to ease out before pushing back in. A painfully delicious stretch as she picks up speed. Small breathy moans start tumbling from your lips as Kate pistons her hips into you. Kate looks from where you two are connected looking at your already blissed out face. Your mouth hangs slightly open as moans continue to fall from your lips. “Fuck so this is how I get you to shut up pretty girl. Fucking your tight little hole with by big cock.” You can’t help the blush that rises as you nod your head words escaping you. 

Kate tests the waters with you a little bit as one of her hands moves up to your neck wrapping around it loosely. Your eyes widen and with a particularly hard thrust from Kate you moan. She applies some pressure to your throat causing another moan to be caught in your throat. Your head falling back and your arm wrapping around Kate and digging your nails into her back causing her to moan. You like the sound of her moan so you scratch down her back and clench around her length. More moans tumbling from her lips. Your combined moans bouncing off the walls as Kate continues fucking herself into you. 

“Mmmm K-Kate.” Your words breathy as the knot grows tighter. Kate's hand is still firm around your neck as she drives her hips into yours. “Fuck you feel so good around me baby girl.” Kate leans in kissing you. You moan into her mouth giving her access, allowing her tongue to explore your mouth. Your legs pull her closer to you as your nails draw blood on her back. You're both so close. Kate’s thrust becomes sloppy as she draws near. You grind your hips into hers looking for your release. 

“Wanna cum baby girl?” Kate mumbles against your lips. Trying desperately to hold her own orgasm back wanting to see and feel you fall apart for her. “Mmm please.” You whimper. “Cum for me.” Kate demands. Your vision blurs and your legs shake around her hips. Your nails racking down her back leaving angry red lines cuming harder than you have ever cum before gushing around her cock which just sets Kate off. Her hips stutter as she paints your walls white. Her thrust slows as she continues to cum. Filling you so full there is a slightly large bulge on your lower abdomen and her cum leaking out around her cock. You have never felt this full in your life but it’s a feeling that you could get used to. 

When Kate stops her hands drop from your throat as she wraps her arms around you and buries her head in your neck pulling you as close as possible. Your head falls on her shoulder as you both hold one another panting. When you both have calmed down enough Kate pulls back and looks at your disheveled state finding you even more beautiful than before. “That was…” You breathe and Kate finishes. “Wow.” Which causes you both to giggle. 

Kate slowly pulls out of you which causes you to wince and whimper. “I’m sorry.” She says hating that she could have hurt you. “It’s ok Katie, just sensitive.” You say with a small smile. She smiles back at you before her attention is drawn down. She watches as a mix of both of your cums leak out of you. Wish she could just push back into you making sure that it all stays in but she doesn’t want to hurt you. So Kate does what she can to make you more comfortable. She wanders around setting up a small place for the both of you to lay down. Once she is done she picks you up but you stop her. “Kate, I can walk.” You slap at her arm lightly. She holds up her hands in defense. You get up but your legs wobble and your knees give out. You would have hit the ground if it weren’t for Kate’s strong arms catching you. “Don’t say it.” You warn the girl. She just chuckles. 

Soon you’re both laying on the ground, you on your side that isn’t injured cuddled up into Kate’s side. Your bummed arm draped lightly over her stomach. Her arms wrapped securely around you as her fingers dance across your skin lightly brushing the large scar adorning your side. You know that she is just absentmindedly just doing it but you feel safe with her. Your head that was laying on her chest now propped up on your chin looking at the raven haired girl. “Would you like to know?” You question her, your words soft. Kate smiles at you. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” 

You lay your head back on her chest and let out a deep sigh. “When I was 13 a group of men kidnapped me. The daughter of the great Tony Stark should be able to get access to all the money and weapons they desire. I don’t know why they thought a 13 year old would have that but I guess they weren’t all that smart. When I couldn’t give them what they wanted they tortured me.” You have to pause for a second letting out a shaky breath. Kate is listening and holding you close for comfort. “I was there for a week with little food or water. Right before my Dad found me they took a large knife and literally skinned my side. They um, they sent it to my Dad which actually helped him find me. For as dumb as they were, they were also good at hiding. Not many people know outside of my Mom and Dad. Only Fury, Steve, Natasha, and Wanda and well I guess now you.” 

You nuzzle into Kate’s chest trying to stop the tears from falling. You can hear Kate sniffle causing you to look up at her and see the tears shining in her eyes. Her other hand moves up to cup your cheek. “I’m so sorry that happened to you Y/n/n.” You give her a reassuring smile. “It’s ok. I um still go to therapy for it and still have some nightmares but they have gotten better.” She leans in and kisses your forehead. The room grows silent as you both lay in each other's embrace. 

Your eyes flutter closed as you grow close to sleep but you're woken when you hear a voice and not of Kate’s. Your com is sitting on top of your clothes. You quickly crawl over to it and stick it in your ear. “Y/n/n are you there? Please be there.” You hear your Dads voice come through the com. “Dad?” You question hoping you're not just hearing things. “Thank god you’re alive. Are you hurt? Is Kate there with you?” He asks quickly. “Yes Dad, we are ok.” You tell him as Kate is behind you rubbing her hand up and down your back. “Y/n is injured but I patched her up the best I can.” You can’t help but look back at her and scowl which just causes her to smirk. “Shit, okay. We have your tackers and we are working to get you two out of there. I’ll have medical on standby.” You huff. “Dad, I'm fine.” Kate talks over you. “No, she was shot.” Your head shoots back to look at her again. “It was nothing.” Your Dad is silent for a moment. “Medical will be ready to look you over when we get you out. We should get to you in less than an hour.” You nod your head like your Dad can see you but you realize he can’t. “Okay see you soon.” 

You push Kate when you stop talking to your dad. “I just want to help you baby girl.” You can’t help but sigh knowing that she is right. Your cheeks are also heating up from hearing her call you that which just makes the girl smirk at you. So you push her playfully. You both quickly get dressed Kate helping you get dressed as you wait to be rescued. 

—---------

You’re sitting in the lab with your Dad as you work on upgrades for yours and Nat’s weapons. You even have some ideas for Kate which makes you smile to yourself. But the smile soon falls when the familiar feeling in your stomach has you stopping. The tools once in your hands clatter on the counter as you lung for the trashcan. With the trash can now grasped in your hands and propped on your lap the small amount of content in your stomach is thrown up. Tony is behind you in seconds rubbing his hand up and down your back.

Once you're done throwing up you set the trashcan back down and wipe your lips. “If I didn’t know any better I would think you were pregnant. You’ve been sick the last few days kiddo.” Tony says as he tries to comfort you. But his words spark something inside of you. You think back. It has been two months since the mission and you and Kate had sex. You’re just now realizing that you haven’t had your period either. 

You start to panic as you realize that your Dads words more than likely ring true. Tony watches your expression change. You get up and start to move around the lab. Tony grabs you and stops you in your tracks. “Hey kiddo calm down.” His hands are on your shoulder. You look up to him with tears in your eyes. “I-I need to go to the store.” He knows what you want and shakes your head. “We can do a blood test here in the lab. It is much more accurate than those tests.” You give your dad a small nod. He leads you over to his work area having you sit as he gets ready to draw your blood. You're both quiet as he sets up. As he starts taking your blood he speaks. “I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.” You sigh and look down. “It’s complicated Dad.” He is silent for a moment as he pulls the needle out and places a piece of gauze on the spot. You hold it there and pull your arm back. “Are you going to tell me who it is?” He asks you but you stay silent.

As Tony starts running the test you go and brush your teeth before coming back to the silent room and continuing your work. Trying everything to distract yourself from the gnawing feeling in your gut. You don’t know how much time has passed. It feels like it is going slow and fast at the same time. You're brought back to reality when the computer beeps. You watch as your Dad rolls over to the computer screen and pulls up the results. You can’t see through his head but you're scared to look. It’s not that you don’t want kids, it is the fact you didn’t expect to have any right now and you’re not even dating Kate. 

Tony rolls out of the way and angels the screen towards you. The screen shows pregnant. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes as they move to your Dad’s face. You can’t tell what he is feeling at the moment but all you do is start to cry. “I-I’m sorry Daddy. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to.” You don’t even know why you're crying but just as before Tony is to you in seconds this time wrapping his arms around you tightly as you cry into his chest. He reassures you as he holds you close. Once you start to calm down he speaks up again. “Do you want to keep it?” You nod as you pull back a little and look up at him. There is a small smile on his face. “Now are you going to tell me who fucked my daughter?” You push at him a little as he chuckles which just brings a smile to your face. You know you are going to have to tell him because you have to tell Kate but you're still a little scared and you know if you don’t do it now you won’t have the courage. 

“Promise you won’t get mad?” You look at Tony who is still holding you in his arms. “Was it an Avenger?” He questions you. You pull back from him and wipe some of the tears off your face. “Please don’t be mad.” You tell him. “You fucked another Avenger!” He exclaimed. “Dad, if you don’t promise me that you aren’t going to be mad and respectful, I'm not going to tell you.” Tony grumbles but agrees. You let out a sigh before speaking again. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” It is quiet for a moment. “Yes Miss. Stark?” A female voice is heard overhead. “Can you please ask Kate to please come down to the lab.” You don’t dare to look at your Dad as you talk. “Right away Miss. Stark.” 

When you finally meet your Dad’s gaze his mouth is hanging open in shock. Everyone knew that you and Kate didn’t get along so how could it be her. Though most have noticed that since your mission with her and being trapped together your dynamic has changed. You two wanted to keep things private and navigate these changes without the others knowing. So in front of the others you two were friendlier with one another but spent time together to get to know one another in private. Most just figured you two being trapped together changed things for you both but this wasn’t on their bingo cards for sure. 

The door creaks open bringing your attention to the Raven hair girl that walks through the door. Kate notices the tear stains on your face and her gaze softens. “Is everything okay? F.R.I.D.A.Y. said you were looking for me.” She looks between you and Tony and she can see the obvious scowl on his face. You give her a short nod before speaking up. “Dad, can you give us the room?” But he doesn’t move, still scowling at the other girl. “Dad you promised.” He grumbles and moves to leave. “Don’t try anything funny with my daughter, I'll be watching you.” He says to Kate as he walks by before heading out the door. He has always been protective over you and even more so of your sister so it is no surprise that he is acting like this. 

“Y/n/n what's wrong?” Kate asks you but you don’t say anything, just taking her hand and walking her over to the screen. You drop her hand as you turn the screen for her to read. You drop your head not wanting to see her reaction. Not wanting to see her upset with you. The room goes silent once again as the results of the screen sink in. “You.. You’re pregnant?” Kate questions. You finally look up at her as tears that you didn’t even know were there start slipping down your face. You nod. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t m-mean for-” Your cut off when Kate wraps her arms around you and picks you up spinning you around. 

You have to tell her to stop and put you down before you throw up all over her. She quickly puts you down but doesn’t let you go. “I’m sorry.” You mumble looking down. Kate removes one of her arms from around you and makes you look up at her. “Why are you sorry?” You can see genuine excitement in her eyes but also the concern she has for you. “Because I got pregnant.” You tell her feeling disappointed in yourself. She just shakes her head at you with a soft smile on her face. “You don’t need to be sorry for that. It takes two to make a baby and last time I checked I wasn’t the only one who came that day.” Her words make you blush a little and she chuckles. “I want kids more than anything baby girl and I would love to have them with you if that is what you wanted.” 

You can’t help the happy tears that fall. “More than anything.” You mumble. You were so scared before but now all you have is excitement for a new chapter. Kate leans in capturing your lips with hers. The kiss becomes heated quickly as Kate pulls you closer, but you're both broken apart when you hear banging on the glass. You pull back looking past Kate at your Dad who is banging on the glass walls of the lab. You wave him off knowing that he is grumbling to himself. You both laugh at the situation before Kate gives you another quick peck. 

Kate looks down at you love and desire in her eyes. She moves one of her hands onto your stomach with a smile, her gaze on your stomach before looking back up at you. “Y/n Stark will you be my girlfriend?” You shed some more tears as you smile and nod. “I would love nothing more than that.” You kiss Kate again before pressing your foreheads together basking in the moment and the excitement of what is to come next on this new journey.

[winedarkthoughts]

house of addams (3)

— 🌖 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

— 🕷️ genre: mystery, angst + fluff + smut

— 🗝️ word count: 4k

— 🍄 summary: the coroner of Farrow's End finally invites you into his kingdom, and you can feel more than one set of watching eyes as you continue your investigation.

— ☕ content warnings: coroner!taehyung, assistant!jungkook, mentions of murder/death/suicide

— 🕸️ a/n: meeting more of the boys!!

previous chapter ← series m.list → next chapter

chpt. 3: into the morgue

"Have her come in," Taehyung says over dinner.

There's a collective clang as several sets of silverware are put down.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, hyung," Jungkook replies. He's nervous around you, especially because you can see more than you let on.

"We're going to have to eventually," Namjoon adds, and Jimin sends him a mischievous, knowing look. He knows how Joon likes to watch you in the bookshop, offering his assistance at his earliest convenience, asking if you need help finding anything specific.

"It's obvious she was hired by the mayor," Yoongi says. "Though, I'm not entirely sure why."

They all know that Mayor Summerbee runs in some of the same circles that they do, but they wonder if you're aware of that fact too. How much did she tell you?

"At the very least, it'll tell us what she already knows," Yoongi says.

"And if she scares easily," Taehyung adds, suppressing a smirk.

What kind of private investigator are you? Are you motivated by self interests? Are you just here to get the job done, bare minimum? Or are you the morbidly curious type? The kind that can't stop until a mystery is solved, even if it leads you to dangerous places.

Yoongi and Namjoon already have a guess at which type you are.

"She has some kind of sight," Jungkook says, biting his nails. The real question is how sharp is that sight?

"I don't think she knows that she has it," Jin pipes in.

They exchange glances, thinking.

"Well," Hoseok says, and they all turn to look at him. "I suppose we'll just have to test it."

september 27, 2004

You've seen your fair share of coroners. Good ones, even excellent ones, and the ones who never should've been appointed to the job in the first place. Most people aren't aware that there is no national standard for coroners, some don't even have medical training.

You remember a case not too long ago when a family mourning the loss of their son hired you to investigate the circumstances of his death, which was ruled "accidental" at the time. The coroner had not had any prior forensic training, he was an OBGYN turned politician. Elected by the small-town voters (nearly 80% of coroners in the U.S. are elected, by the way), he was cushy with the local police force.

And being your naturally suspicious self, or maybe it's a side effect of your job, you pressed for a second autopsy by an examiner actually worth his salt.

The external examination alone proved that it was far from accidental. His wounds suggested severe beating, and his cause of death was suffocation from being choked, homicide not accident.

Further investigation revealed police brutality. You pushed and pushed and pushed, and after being enough of a pain in the ass (and threatening several lawsuits), they finally convicted the officers responsible.

The family still sends you a Christmas card every year, and it more than makes up for being a pain in the ass for living.

So yeah, you don't trust coroners, or their reports, until you get the chance to evaluate their level of competence for yourself. And the fact that the coroner of Farrow's End has been so resistant to your attempts to contact him doesn't bode well.

But today, the Monday following your little expedition up to the Addam's House, he's finally available to see you. Last night you received a call at around midnight, seemingly from the same young man you saw on the other side of the gate the other day.

Of course you were awake, but you wondered why the coroner's office would be up and running at such an hour. Maybe a late night emergency autopsy? It wasn't unheard of, sometimes a Sheriff will request an autopsy to be completed as soon as possible when the press are particularly bothersome and the cause of death is unclear.

You didn't get the chance to ask, because the man started rattling off about how the coroner would be able to see you tomorrow morning, and he advised that you bring any notes you might have.

Good sign, it suggests that the coroner is willing to work with you.

It's early, maybe a little too early. The fog is blanket-thick and the clouds are sprinkling down a fine mist of rain.

You take your car as far as the rocky dirt road allows, park it at the base of the hill, and trudge on through the mud, the umbrella over your head immediately collecting dew.

You reach the gate, closed like last time. When you reach for it, you're expecting to find it locked, but just as your fingers are about to touch the cold metal, the gate swings open with a long creak.

You stand there for a moment, searching for some kind of mechanism that would make it open by itself, but you find nothing but old iron forged in intricate patterns.

Whatever, you've seen weirder. You slip through the parted gates and close them behind you.

Gigantic trees, pines it looks like, envelop the perimeter of the surrounding gates, with twisting, leafless trees in abundance nearer to the house, even though fall is just beginning to dawn and most leaves haven't even begun to change color yet.

You didn't notice it before, but these leafless trees are full of crows, black tufts perched on the reaching branches. No, crows and ravens. They call out as you pass by, and you get the odd sense that every single one of them is looking at you.

The cobblestone path leading up to the front door is overgrown with weeds. The exterior of the house, now that you can see it up close, is almost decrepit. The wood is rotting, the roof is sagging, the windows are dirty and smudged.

They rent this place out?

"Ma'am!" a voice calls out.

You search for the owner of the voice, finally finding it at the side of the house. It's the young man from the other day, peeking around a brick corner. He gestures you over and swiftly disappears again.

When you turn the corner, the man is standing by a double hatch door in the ground. Not a good sign for a supposed "morgue."

He seems to read as much on your face, because then he's saying, "I would take you down the elevator inside, but everyone is still asleep."

There's a childish nervousness in his voice, and it makes you send an uncharacteristic smile his way as you step through the door and down a spiral staircase.

Distracted, you don't see the curtains twitch, and the several faces in the windows above, watching.

The passage runs deep. You emerge in a wide hallway, lined with carved wooden walls and old portraits. The foundation is clearly old, but there are newly installed fluorescent lights that don't do the original craftsmanship justice.

"How old is this house?" you blurt out, and the young man can't suppress a high, boyish laugh.

"I'm not sure, around a century, I think," he says.

Wow hard to believe it's gone untouched for so long, you think as he leads you down the extensive hallway, passing several branching doorways.

Your eyes drink everything in, curious and scrutinous. Again, the man seems to read your mind.

"It might not look it, but we have a state of the art facility here," he begins.

"Crematorium," he gestures to one door. "Viewing room. Embalming room. Autopsy room. And the largest refrigeration unit in five counties."

This place is extensive, and the further you go, the cleaner and more modern it gets.

You notice that the man is wearing similar clothing from before: a large coat (broad shoulders) and big, thick boots. Black, laced up over his ankles it appears, it makes the thud of his footsteps echo against the walls.

You wonder if they are corpse-handling boots, or merely a style choice.

"Here's the office," he says, leading you into a small but cozy room fit with a cluttered desk and a few dusty but comfortable-looking armchairs.

"You can have a seat if you like," he says, nervousness creeping back into his voice.

You take him up on the offer, sinking into one of the armchairs despite the fact that you're a little damp from the rain. But judging by the state of the chairs, you doubt it would bother them.

It's then than you realize how chilly it is down here, in this basement maze tucked under an ancient house. Damn, you're so—

"Cold?" the man says suddenly. "I'm sorry, we get quite the chill down here. Would you like some coffee or tea?"

You perk up almost instantly.

"Coffee, please," you reply maybe a little too perkily, because it makes him smile at you, exposing those bunny teeth again. Very cute.

He disappears through another doorway, into some sort of kitchenette judging by the sounds coming from it (metal banging, water running, porcelain clanking).

You take a look around. The office walls are lined with framed photos and plaques all boasting the same name: Kim Taehyung. Bachelor of Science in Biology, Bachelor of Science in Chemistry, Master of Forensic Science, Embalmer's License, Medical Examiner Certification, Doctor of Medicine.

Got it, this man is learned. Good sign.

The young man returns with a silver tray in his hands. He sets it down on the ottoman between the two armchairs, grasping the black teapot and pouring fresh steaming coffee into a matching black teacup. You notice that the sugar cubes are in the shape of skulls and bones, and a part of you admires the dedication to the aesthetic.

You prepare your cup and sip greedily. The coffee is rich and strongly-brewed. Another good sign. It may not contribute to your investigation, but at least you can respect him as a person.

The young man takes the seat next to you and prepares his own cup.

For the first time since you arrived, you aren't distracted by your surroundings, and you're realizing just how strange this young man looks.

His skin is a dull shade of gray, with slight red blemishes and spots of dark purple flesh that look like deep bruises. His lips are simultaneously pale yet also tinged red, like there's blood inside his mouth. And his eyes, they look like—

The man seems to notice you staring at him, because he shifts uncomfortably in his chair and coughs awkwardly.

You blink, and his form seems to blur at the edges, becoming fuzzier and harder to latch onto. Maybe he has some sort of skin condition. But that wouldn't explain the feeling that something isn't quite right about him, something uncanny.

"I'll go see if Dr. Kim is ready for you," he says, practically sprinting out of his seat and out of the room. You hear his footsteps pounding through the halls, then hushed voices.

You being you, the debate over whether to slip through the hall to eavesdrop on their conversation does cross your mind. But you figured that even with your silent feet, they would probably still hear you rustling around in the quiet of the morgue.

A few moments later, and you hear one set of footsteps returning to the office. The young man pops his head into the doorway.

"He'll see you now," he says, vanishing just as fast. The way he appears and disappears like a ghost is starting to give you whiplash.

You follow him down the hall, entering a fluorescent-lit room fit with chrome features. The walls are lined with little doors, drawer openings, and there are several gurneys scattered throughout the room. The chill is even stronger here, this must be part of that state of the art refrigeration system.

The man standing in the center of it all is wearing a white medical gown and black latex gloves. He looks up as you enter, and—

Oh. He's young, startlingly young, early thirties max. His skin is golden tan over strong, handsome features. Dark tiger eyes, sharp and perceptive. The only indicator of his age is several tendrils of silver hair growing from the crown of his head.

"Good morning," he greets in a deep, charming voice. "Miss ______?"

"Yes, Dr. Kim?" you reply, holding out a hand.

"Just Taehyung, please," he says, taking off his gloves to shake your hand firmly, and jesus his hands are large and very pretty.

Ah, so he's not a pretentious asshole who insists on being addressed as "doctor" constantly. Another good sign. Though, judging from his extensive education, in this case it would be justified.

"I'm so sorry we couldn't see you sooner. It can get quite busy with just the two of us down here," Taehyung says.

You can't help but take another glance around the room. Only two people running this whole facility?

"I understand that you're working with the mayor?" Taehyung inquires, his casual voice good at hiding his burning curiosity.

You, in turn, are good at hiding the slight suspicion from hearing the mayor mentioned yet again. You're not sure who you're suspicious of though, him or the mayor herself.

"Yes, I was hoping I could get copies of the autopsy reports for Michael Bradley, Jarvis Laplan, and Sharon Mason."

You say it matter-of-factly, curious if they will bend at the slight flex of authority in your voice. Or, if being associated with the mayor yields certain results.

The two of them glance at each other.

"Access to Laplan and Mason aren't a problem, but Mary Bradley has requested that no further information on her husband's death be released," Dr. Kim replies, cool as a cucumber.

Your eyes widen just a bit, unable to hide your surprise. Wait...what? He would just give you the reports for Laplan and Mason, just like that? No request for credentials? No questions asked?

Truth be told, you've never gotten hold of an autopsy report after the first ask. You've always had to jump through hoops to get the right permissions and authorizations, as is the case for private investigators since they are not real police. And rightly so, the fine details of people's violent deaths is not something to be made light of, in your opinion.

Clearly your confusion is evident on your face, because then Taehyung is saying, "Laplan's wife and Sharon Mason's parents are quite eager for further investigation."

Ah, so they suspect something unusual too. Hopefully they'll be more than willing for an interview.

"And Bradley...?" your voice trails off with the question.

Taehyung furrows his brows like he isn't sure how exactly to put it.

"Mrs. Bradley has had a bad experience with the press," is all he says.

You can feel your eyebrow raise.

"Is she still a suspect?" you ask, deadpan.

Taehyung is quick to correct himself.

"No, god no!" he says, eyes wide and head shaking. "His death was purely accidental, a tragedy that could've been avoided."

Your attention catches on that last part like a snagged thread on a nailhead.

"Oh? Why do you say that?" you ask, unconsciously taking a step forward.

Jungkook, who's silently watching the whole exchange, can't help but think it makes you look predatory, a hunter locked onto their target with frightening accuracy.

But Dr. Kim doesn't bend. He tilts his head ever so slightly as the corner of his mouth curves up, like he respects your drive.

"Well, Michael Bradley exhibited signs of extreme mental distress, many of them suggestive of suicide."

"But you don't think it was suicide, do you?" you say, before you can help it really, because your mind is running a hundred miles a minute right now.

Jungkook can sense it too, his eyes Bambi-wide and watching in fascination as the cogs turn in your analytical brain.

"No, I don't." It comes from Taehyung's mouth like a sigh. You don't see it (Jungkook does), but he's impressed.

"That's all I can say really," Taehyung says suddenly, sounding apologetic. "You'll have to speak with Mrs. Bradley about getting access, but talking about her husband is painful for her. And she's been through enough."

He cares about people, the ones he works on are not just bodies to him. Very good sign. You're coming to the conclusion than Dr. Kim is definitely a coroner worth his salt.

"I'll be sure to proceed delicately, then," you reply softly. You're trying to say it back. I care about these victims, this isn't just a case to me. Everyone has a story.

He seems to get it, nodding his head with a gentle smile. Something very small, almost ghostly, clicks between you.

Jungkook observes it all in a slight state of awe. He can already tell that the rest of them, his "family," are going to like you.

Taehyung gives you the copies of the autopsy reports, a sizable stack of folders and papers and photos. He even gives you a copy of the autopsy transcript.

You realize that he was prepared to give you this information before you even got here. Either Mayor Summerbee is a very persuasive person, or Dr. Kim is eager to work with you. Maybe both.

Your point is proven seconds later when Taehyung hands you a business card (with his personal number scrawled on the back), as he tells you that you're free to contact him with any questions you might have.

You profess your thanks with an armful of documents, making a point to shake Dr. Kim's and Jungkook's hand firmly.

Jungkook leads you back, his boots softly thudding with every step, and you can feel Taehyung's eyes on your back as you walk through down the long hallway.

Jungkook is kind. He offers to help you with the massive stack of documents in your arms, but you politely refuse. You've got liquid gold in your possession.

He holds the gate open for you, even offering to walk you to your car, but again, you decline and thank him for his offer.

The gate shuts behind you with a resonate clang. As you turn away from the house to begin the trek down the muddy hill, you feel an odd sensation, like tingling insects down your back.

Looking over your shoulder, you see the curtains of several windows suddenly fall back into place. Someone, several someone's, are watching you.

You can't find it in you to be creeped out, though. Something about this house, despite its run-down appearance, is welcoming. Beckoning, even.

It's dark and old and practically falling apart, but many things that you love also happen to have those same traits.

A slight smile tugs at your lips as you turn and make your way down the path. You'll have to find out more about this place.

"Again. She saw through my glamour again," Jungkook announces to the room, sounding slightly defeated.

"Don't worry, Kook. It's a solid spell, I checked it myself," Yoongi replies as he waters one of the endless houseplants adorning their home. Thanks to Yoongi himself, of course.

"She saw through mine too," Taehyung says, resolute. He's staring at the black and white checkered floor, deep in thought.

Everyone looks up at that.

"That proves it then," Namjoon says. "She has a heightened degree of sight."

"I wanna know why though," Yoongi interrupts in a sudden bout of passion. "She's human. Why is she able to see everything?"

"Not the house though," Jungkook blurts out. "The glamour on the house held up."

"Of course it did, the house magick is stronger than any of us," Jin quips from the kitchen, standing over a sizzling stove.

"Lots of humans have the sight," Jimin says lazily, sprawled out in one of the lounge chairs.

"Yeah, but it's the type of humans who turn it into a cheap gimmick," Jungkook replies, pacing around the room now.

Taehyung crosses the distance between them in a few strides, putting a large hand on Jungkook's shoulder. The younger man looks up at him, then lets out a breath and returns the smile.

"You're safe, Kook," Taehyung says softly. "No one's gonna put up a fuss."

Jimin chuckles. "She might."

Taehyung throws a scolding glance over his shoulder. "A real fuss, I mean. Everything's been kept under wraps so far."

"And she's not a phony, or a leech. The mayor made sure of that," Yoongi says.

"In any case," Jin begins, an authoritative edge to his voice. "Hoseok said to keep an eye on her, so that's just what we'll do."

september 28, 2004

You may be a damn good investigator, but you're no med student. So the next day you set out to the bookstore, determined to understand every last term and phrase in the autopsy reports.

The same man is behind the desk, but this time he's bent over a typewriter, clacking away. You can't help but observe him for a moment, watching as his dark eyes dart over the page, the way his glasses rest at the edge of his nose like a wizened old man.

"Welcome in," he calls out at the chime of the bell on the door, like an instinct.

You take a few steps into the ever-crowded space, your eyes shifting over all the things you missed the last time you were here. Because that's what kind of place this is, somewhere you could go a hundred times and find something new each visit. Places like this are quite dear to you.

You're about to examine a shelf full of perfectly preserved beetles, when you sense the man look up at you.

"Oh," he says, like he's pleasantly surprised. "It's you."

And you would be lying if you said it didn't make your gut feel something warm squirming inside it.

"Need help finding anything?" he asks, like he has every time you've visited this place.

"Yes, please," you reply, barely hiding your smile.

He leads you through the maze of shelves like it's a map of his own brain. Several times you have to hurry to catch up to him in his excitement.

Soon your arms are occupied by an impressive stack. Anatomy, general medical knowledge, crime scene identification, even a few textbooks on post-mortem examinations.

To you, it's more liquid gold. You profess your thanks to the bookshop keeper, dropping a generous tip into the jar when you go to checkout. Again, the books are almost too reasonably priced. Not that it matters, since research purchases are an easy business expense ride-off.

Just as you turn to leave, the man clears his throat awkwardly, like he's building himself up to speak.

"There's plenty of places to sit here," he almost blurts out. "Lots of cozy nooks. Perfect for...research."

You pause at the door to glance back at him. You find him watching you closely, his expression somewhere between innocently curious and suggestive of hidden knowledge on his part.

"I'll keep that in mind," you reply, a little teasing lilt to your voice. Because clearly he enjoys your company too.

Then you turn on your heel and let the door swing shut behind you, leaving him wanting more.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! i would combust with joy if you'd tell me any of your thoughts :D

NEXT UPDATE: 05/25/24

[yoonivy]

my house of stone, your ivy grows (and now i’m covered in you); part 4.

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, drama, angst, fluff, smut. it’s a y/n fic but no use of y/n. heavily inspired by taylor swift’s ‘ivy’.

When a fierce blizzard ravages the North, a certain dragon rider gets caught up in it and crashes onto Bear Island.

And right to you, the youngest daughter of House Mormont.

warnings. angst!!! 01| 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09

---

King’s Landing is in utter disarray. 

The past week in the capital of the Seven Kingdoms has been a shitstorm – for a lack of a better word.

Starting with the secret death of King Viserys I Targaryen. Then the gathering and holding captive of the supporters of the decreed heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, in order for the Greens to usurp her birthright to give the crown to Prince Aegon. Then, there was the destruction of the Dragonpit during Prince Aegon’s – no, now King Aegon’s – coronation from when Princess Rhaenys made her escape on her dragon Meleys by breaking through the ground from the dungeons, resulting in the deaths of many smallfolks. And, finally, Princess Rhaenyra has found out of her father’s death and her younger half-brother’s ascent to the throne, and from a parley with the King’s hand, Otto Hightower, she had declared she is the true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the Greens are the ones who are traitors to the crown. 

Now, like a Cyvasse board with most of the pieces of the game set in place, each side is quiet again, both thoroughly planning their next move.

In Maegor’s Holdfast, Prince Aemond Targaryen sits on a leather accented chair, staring at one of the walls in his bedchamber – all four bare and empty, letting him be with just himself in complete withdrawal. Perhaps to decompress all that has happened. Perhaps to think about nothing at all. Perhaps to… Aemond does not even know.

All he really knows is that he just needed time to himself.

In the first half of this whirlwind of a week, he played a foolish cat and mouse game with his older brother – at the behest of his mother – to bring him back first to the Keep before his grandfather’s men, to force him of his fated coronation. Now Aemond has to watch Aegon gloat as he wears the crown that he did not even want — a crown that Aemond wants for himself — and it sickens the younger Targaryen prince.

Beyond that, he has not even properly mourned the death of his father yet. Or even, at all .

Aemond is not sure if he could even anymore. They’ve tarnished his legacy, spat in the face of his decree of having Princess Rhaenyra as his heir. His mother, Queen Alicent, said that his dying wish, whispered only to her ear, was that the King wanted Aegon to be the one on the Iron Throne after him instead of his first-born daughter. Aemond is not sure that even he believes that. But his heart has grown cold and bitter through the years – wanting power more than anything else now – and with Rhaenyra stripped from her title, he has risen up a step to be next in line after his baby nephew, Jaehaerys, one half of Aegon’s and Helaena’s twins.

So Aemond cannot mourn his father. Has to push back the memory of his death into the back confines of his mind – where he had stuffed and locked away other painful memories; like an island full of evergreens, a touch of a hand he had known better than his own, and a promise of forever whispered against soft lips he thought he’d be kissing his whole life. 

It causes him to sit there in his bedchamber, basking in the selfishness and treachery of his family in the wake of his father’s death. 

Live in it. 

Let it become him. 

It is the only way he can deal with all of it.

The Prince’s solitude is broken by Ser Criston, the newly appointed Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, entering his bedchamber.

“You’ve been called to the council chamber, my Prince.”

Aemond nods then stands, knowing that whatever they are summoning him for, he shall do. 

For the victory of his family. 

For the unspoken promise of the crown to one day be put upon his head.

---

Aemond is one of the last to arrive at the council chamber. His mother, the Dowager Queen, and his grandfather, the Hand of the King, were already on either side of King Aegon once the doors shut for the small council to start their meeting. 

There is a map of Westeros laid on the table that they are all gathered around. As they discuss, there are pieces getting placed on different areas on the map to represent which Houses are for Aegon or for Rhaenyra – and of the latter, which Houses they can possibly turn to rescind their loyalty to Rhaenyra and bend the knee to Aegon instead.

Aemond cannot help the sinking feeling in his stomach when he sees Ser Tyland Lannister place a black pawn piece on a tiny island just North-West of Winterfell – Bear Island.

“The Mormonts?! For Rhaenyra ?” King Aegon scoffs out a laugh. “Surely they’ll be willing to bend the knee to me–” Aegon catches his younger brother’s gaze, a hopeful and gleeful smile spreading on his lips, “Right, brother?”

But Aemond simply breaks eye contact from him, looking back down at the piece on the island, devoid of any emotion. The answer of silence from Aemond has the King’s smile falling slowly. 

From beside Aegon, Queen Alicent looks at her second son in an expression quite hard to read. 

Is it pity… or guilt? 

Only the Queen knows.

And maybe the one who speaks up next.

“It would be a waste of time, Your Grace,” Otto Hightower says gruffly. He does not seem to be in turmoil like the Queen is though, only obviously very frustrated at how politically unsavvy the new King is. “The Mormonts will follow where the Starks go, like most Houses of the North. So if we were to do any negotiating up there, we should focus on the Starks instead.”

“The Wolf of the North is as stubborn and loyal as the other Heads of House Stark that came before him,” Orwyle, the Grand Maester, says. “Cregan Stark might have written back to us back that he does not care for the politics of the South, but if push comes to shove, I fear they will stay with the Blacks.” “Not only that,” Ser Criston begins, “His younger brother, Willam, is also a part of Rhaenyra’s Queen’s Guard.”

“So we just give up the North?!” Alicent questions, exasperated. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“For now ,” Otto says in a tone that also tells his daughter to get her wits about her, keep her emotions in check. “So we should pivot our attention on a House we can sway to our side–” He leans forward, tapping on the black pawn piece on Storm’s End, eyes flicking to Aemond when he does so, “I propose for Prince Aemond to go to Storm’s End, break bread with Lord Borros Baratheon and bring their powerful House over to our side. Offer yourself to betrothed one of his daughters if need be. I say you ride there now, show them the promised consequence of their refusal by landing in on Vhagar.”

Alicent sucks in a breath, looking from her father then to her son. She cannot believe her father would just suggest this when they’ve not discussed this beforehand. “Aemond…” His eye finds her when she calls for him. The blank look on his face has her frowning. “Are you willing to do this… for us?”

Then he smiles, but it does not quite reach his eye. It is just there to placate her and everyone around.

“Of course, mother,” Aemond says, dipping his head in a bow. “I’ll do whatever I have to.” He then nods to his grandfather. “For the name of our House and the throne.” And then to his brother. “For the King.”

The Queen looks to her father, finds him already looking at her.

Aren’t you glad? The grin on the Hand’s face says. That we intervened all those years ago? And now Aemond is still free to betrothed a woman that will help with our cause?

No! Alicent wants to scream, but instead she just turns away, watching the back of her second son as he leaves the council room to do what was asked of him. A foreboding feeling twists in her stomach.

---

It all went wrong.

It has all gone horribly wrong .

Aemond takes fast and hasty steps through the halls of the Keep, his hurried breathing near hyperventilating. The rain that showered him on his flight home on Vhagar has already dried, but he still feels the heaviness of it over his body.

He disturbs his family and some of the members of the King’s small council when he bursts through the door of the hall as they feast their dinner. His mother stands up in worry at the sight of the anguish on his face, asking him what was wrong. What happened?

Aemond’s mouth opens, and he blurts it all out.

That Lucerys Velaryon, his nephew, came to Storm’s End while he was in the middle of negotiating with Borros Baratheon. 

That he simply just wanted to scare the boy, threatening to take out his eye for the one the young man had taken from him. 

That it was Arrex’s – Lucerys’ dragon – fault for angering Vhagar.

That he tried to stop Vhagar but she did not listen to him. 

That he ended up taking more than just Lucerys’ eye.

The Dowager Queen crumples to the floor, a hand pressed to her mouth to suppress the agonizing cries that want to spill out, tears streaming down her eyes to mourn for a son that is not her own. 

Aemond watches his mother, murmuring for her dear friend, the one she grew up with and the one she was losing in this game of thrones – only held together loosely with a string of love that they woven so strongly when they were just little girls. But after tonight, it will be completely severed.

“We have to tell her,” Alicent sobs. “We need to tell Rhaenyra. This one… This one we can’t keep from her. She deserves to know .”

But the small council present ignores her to argue amongst themselves, shouting over the other of which way is the best way to approach this unfortunate event. Aemond then feels eyes on him, and when he turns, he sees that it is Helaena looking at him — horrified — clutching her nearly four years old twin babes closely to her side, the kids terrified at all the shouting. To make matters worse, even Aegon seems disturbed at what he had done. Aegon – the man who is known to lay his rough hands on women who do not want his touch and betted coins on feral children to fight for their lives in the rat pits of Flea Bottom.

Then his mother glances up from where she is still a heap on the floor, and even she cannot stop the flicker of disdain when she meets her second son’s gaze.

Kinslayer , their voices scream at him in his head. 

There is a constricting pressure in his chest, threatening to arrest his heart if he did not get away. 

Perhaps he should just stay put and let the Stranger take him. 

An eye for an eye. A son for a son.

But Aemond turns around instead, storming out the door from whence he had just came from.

Though his mind is numb and blank, his feet keep moving, taking him somewhere.

Where Aemond finds himself is in front a set of dark double doors and he should have known this is where his overflow of grief and remorse would mindlessly take him. Looking upon it, he lets out a shuddering breath — before he is pushing the handle to let himself inside.

The pungent smell of death hits his nostril as soon as he steps inside. It almost made him turn right around, but he pushes through and swallows down the bile threatening to come out of him. Aemond was not even surprised about the horrid smell. The small council now puppeteering his fool of a brother did this : left his father secretly decaying in his deathbed for the past week, all so they can conspire behind the back of his half-sister Rhaenyra without her even knowing that her father was dead.

The Silent Sisters took his father’s body away last night, working on the process to finally let him rest properly. Maybe that is why Aemond could not even mourn him. How can you mourn someone that was made to be thought of as alive?

Aemond closes the door behind him, looking around his father’s room. He has not been here in so long – even way before his father’s death in this room. 

The prince did not want to admit it but… He hated the sight of his father in the last few years of his life. The disease that plagued the late King Viserys made him look like a husk of a man, rotting his flesh from the inside out. And when the sickness took Viserys’ eye, hollowed out the socket that he had to wear a gold mask to hide the sight of it from his people; Aemond did not feel any solace of a bond between them. If anything, there was this little voice in the back of Aemond’s head that said that is not what a king ought to look like. 

Aemond regrets it, but there is nothing he can do about it now.

The miniature model of Old Valyria that his father once poured all his free time over lay in the middle of the solar more lifeless than before, with the webbing of spiders on every surface and corners of the blocks of buildings. Aemond walks up to it and swipes his hand through the webs in an attempt to make the model look like what it once was, when his father was alive and well enough to take care of it.

 While doing so, Aemond accidentally knocks something over onto the floor. When he bends down to pick it up, he sees in his hand a wooden model of dragon.

He made this. 

With…

To hold back happy memories made bitter through the years, he thinks about it more broadly. He made this with the Mormont siblings and their old Maester Garland who loved to make miniature models like his father did. Aemond gave it to his father after he came from one of his travels, and his father smiled at him so lovingly and pulled up a stool for Aemond to sit and they spent the rest of the day in this solar, his father telling him stories of the place their ancestors came from.

The memory makes Aemond smile sadly.

Perhaps wherever his father and Maester Garland are now, they are free to build a miniature model of the whole of Westeros together, if the New and Old Gods are merciful and kind and allowed them to.

Maybe Lucerys is there with them too.

Aemond puts his shaking hand against his mouth and takes a shuddering breath, remembering once again what he had done. He paces the room, his body shivering and beading in sweat at the dreadful thought.

And that is when he sees it, from the corner of his eye, in the far wall of his father’s solar, peeking behind a bunch of things hoarded inside the room. He knows what it is, so he does not know why he starts to move the many piles of books and boxes holding various items to get to it. 

He is heavily breathing by the time he has made enough room for a path for him to get to it. 

The backing board of the golden frame leaning on the wall is what faces him when he reaches it. He takes a deep inhale as he fingers swipe across the dust collected on the frame, remembering just how it got there. 

It had to be at least two years ago when he furiously grabbed the golden frame off from where it hung on the wall in his bedchamber. It was the last thing in his life that reminded him of the bears on Bear Island, the rest already burnt into ashes under Vhagar’s fire. He strode through Maegor’s Holdfast carrying the heavy frame, determined with just his rage. Another courier had just returned and informed him that the youngest Lady of Bear Island turned him away, grimacing at the sight of the gift.

And that was it. That was the last straw. Aemond was done trying.

It was his mother that caught him in the act, the undeniable fury in her son’s features and the sight of the golden frame made her face fall.

“What are you doing?!” Alicent asked in a panic, placing herself in front of him and grabbing onto his arms to stop him in his tracks.  

“I’m taking this where it belongs. Under Vhagar’s fire.”

His mother shook her head, disapproving of his plans.

“I… I know she has not written to you, or accepted any of the couriers you sent to her, but…” Alicent pressed her lips together, looking away as tears swell in her eyes. “I don’t want you to regret it if you burn your memory of her.”

“Why would I regret it? I’m just treating her how she had treated me. She’s dead to m–”

“Aemond!” Alicent admonished, glaring at him. Aemond did not know why his mother was taking her side. It puzzled him. He watched his mother take a deep breath, and then she turned to him again. “Come, I know a place you can take it. A place where it will be out of your sight forever… Or at least until you can bear to look at it again.”

Then before he could disagree, his mother took one side of the heavy frame, helping him carry it. As they walked together, she refused the help of any of the guards. Her face was unreadable as to why, but the weight of the painting was heavy on her back.

When they stopped in front of his father’s door, Aemond questioned why — his mother knew he hated it in there.

“Exactly,” Alicent said with a sad smile. “You’ll never step foot in here unless you have to… So it is the perfect place.”

And as always. His mother was right. Now he stands there, looking at the backing board of the painting and is desperate to see the face that would stare back at him once he turns it around.

So he does.

At the sight of your gentle smiling face, Aemond falls to his knees, grabbing onto the sides of the golden frame. His heart clenching so much so.

As much as it hurts to look upon you, you still give him a sense of relief as well. It’s confusing. It’s terrifying – how you still have such a hold on him when he has tried so hard to make the taste of your name his mouth so bitter that he has to spit it out.

Seeing your face again has him thinking crazy thoughts. That maybe, just maybe, if he can see you again, maybe you’ll tell him the real reason why you’ve spurned him. Maybe it was all a big misunderstanding. Maybe it was his fault. Maybe then he can tell you of everything that has happened, the pain and guilt in his heart. Maybe then you’ll wrap your arms around, comfort his hurting heart in a way that he knows only you could do.

And that’s when he thinks, fuck it…  

He needs to see you again. He will see you again.

---

Vhagar knows that her bonded rider is not pleased with her. When they had returned to King’s Landing earlier that day, Prince Aemond did not pat her snout for a job well done like he usually does, he had just walked away in complete silence. She stared after him, the taste of dragon flesh mixed with human flesh still on her tongue.

So when Aemond climbed up onto her back that evening, no words or command were spoken to her – but she just knew where he wanted to go.

The storm follows them in their travel up North. Although the rain is heavy on their backs, Vhagar lands at her pit on Bear Island past midnight and in three days time – a record for the she-dragon.

Mormont guards meet Prince Aemond at the wooden gate of the wall surrounding the keep, and they escort him inside. Aemond tries not to tear up at the feeling of home as he follows behind them.

It is Braeden Mormont who greets Aemond at the entrance hall, a look of utter shock on his face at the sight of the prince – looking more and more like his father Lord Mormont than from the last time Aemond saw him. There is a woman by his side – Rebeca, his childhood friend and now wife – carrying a young, sleeping girl of what looks to be of age 5 – Marjorie, born during one of the years Aemond could not visit and the reason Braeden did not travel to King’s Landing for the wedding.

“Ae–” Braeden catches himself, “Prince Aemond, what are you doing here and at this hour?” 

Eyes wild and words hurried, Aemond does not even hear him and questions him instead, “Your sister. Where is she? I need to see her.”

He must have looked so manic that Braeden gently brings his wife and child behind his back as he steps forward towards the prince, a protective papa bear. “My prince… I… I’m sorry to tell you but… My sister… She does not live on Bear Island anymore.”

Aemond’s heart stutters. Dread on as to why that is already dawning on him, but like a fool, he still asks anyway, “Why… Why doesn’t she live here anymore?”

Braeden frowns at him, pity and confusion mixed together. “She lives in Harrenhal now, my prince... With her Lord-Husband, Jeremy Strong.”

Aemond can feel his heart shattering into a million tiny pieces, his hand clenching over it...

Jeremy Strong, who has the same coloring as Aemond’s nephew, Lucerys Velaryon – brown hair, brown eyes; instead of the Targaryen and Velaryon silver hair and purple eyes. Jeremy Strong, the man that shares the same name and blood with his uncle, Ser Harwin Strong, who was the rumored lover of Rhaenyra Targaryen during her first marriage with Laenor Velaryon – the reason why Aemond and his brothers call their nephews the Strong boys, implying their bastardness and their illegitimacy to the throne…

Wherever Lucerys is now, he must be smiling at how karma tastes — sweet like justice.

---

You awaken with a sudden gasp, your chest heaving, and a maddening thrumming in between your thighs. 

The intangible dream of hurried mouth against mouth and a gaze filled with burning desire slipping through your fingertips with every second you become more aware of reality. 

When your sleepy eyes flutter to take in your surroundings, it is your husband’s honeyed brown eyes you find, already on you. 

Jeremy Strong’s immediate reaction is to turn away, embarrassed for being caught. His face is flushed pink when he mutters to the wall, “I apologize for staring, my l– La–” he stumbles his words, growing more red, then clears his throat, “My love.”

You do not know if you should smile with amusement or frown at how unsure he sounded. 

I should tell him that it is quite alright for him to look upon me, for I am his, afterall.

But you have a feeling you would sound just as unsure as he had been if you said that aloud, so you forgo the thought. Instead you just tell him softly, “It’s alright, Jeremy.” 

You sit up then, back against the headboard of the bed the two of you share, and watch as your Strong husband gets ready for his day. 

Jeremy already has on his breeches, a heavy bulge straining at the front. Your whole body light afire at the sight of it, knowing it is probably there because of what he had witnessed while you were still asleep. Though the dream is far away from you now, the evidence of it is still wet between your legs.

When Jeremy throws a white tunic over his head, your gaze is on his body, transfixed. From the sparsely grown dark curls on his broad and muscular chest and down his navel, to the freckles splattered across his toned shoulders from working hard under the sun, and then to the healed scar on his left bicep from a spar with his older brother (you had smiled when you first saw it and when he told you the story, reminding you of your own from Jorah). 

Just when he pulls the tunic down to cover himself completely, that is when he catches you and your ogling. Your eyes are quick to fall to where your hands lay on the furs around your body.

For two people who have spoken their vows to each under the eye of the Weirwood tree five long moons ago, you and your husband are embarrassingly still acting like blushing maidens around the other. 

When your heartbeat evens, you brave glancing up at him again to ask, “What are your plans for the day?”

While shrugging on a dark brown leather jacket to fight the autumn chill, Jeremy says, “I will be overseeing the hunt today. I want to make sure we have enough rabbits for when your brother arrives.”

A warmth of tenderness spreads in your chest, your husband’s thoughtfulness causing you to smile. 

In two days time, Jorah and Renee should be arriving in Harrenhal for a visit before they travel further south to settle in one of the villages in the Reach. It’s Jorah’s first time truly leaving Bear Island so Jeremy had wanted to make his favorite stew that your mother makes to ease his nervousness for the next big change in his life. 

Jeremy even extended an invitation for Dorothea and her husband to visit as well, and they would be arriving in a day from Riverrun. You had not seen any of your family since your wedding so you are elated to see your dear sister and brother again. 

Jeremy then turns towards you, and you softly awe at how truly beautiful he is with his kind, perpetually sleepy eyes and strong nose chiseled by the Gods themselves. 

“Will you be hosting the kids for painting today?” Jeremy asks as he walks over to your side of bed. 

“Yes, after noon,” you tell him just as he stops just beside where you are.

“Good, that’s, uh, good… Talia, she… she loves it,” he says, speaking for his niece. 

“I’m glad,” you tell him with a small smile. “She is as talented as my sister.”

“She has a good teacher,” he compliments bashfully, only meeting your eyes for just a few seconds. Then he turns to the window, brows narrowed at the bleak view. “I should head out. They are most likely already waiting for me.”

You hum and nod, watching him from under long lashes. And this time, when his gaze turns to meet yours again, neither of you look away.  

Then he is bending towards you, a slight hesitation in his movement but he pushes through, tucking his fingers around your chin to lift your face towards him. You find yearning in those mellow, golden browns; tender devotion that you do not think you have done anything to deserve. 

But through the years, you’ve become greedy for intimacy, and it has come to a point when you just want to take, and take, and take. So when you lick your lips and your husband’s gaze flickers down to follow the movement of your tongue, you flutter your eyes shut in hopes for something that will get your heart racing.

What you feel though is but a chaste kiss pressed onto your forehead for a long second. 

Then the closeness of him is gone.  

When you open your eyes in obvious disappointment, Jeremy is sheepishly rubbing his hand behind his neck.

“I’ll be back for supper; so I’ll see you then… I, um, hope you have a good day, my love.”

Then he leaves and you cannot help but to glare after him.

Your poor, sweet Lord Husband only wishes to be respectful towards you but all you can do is burn him with your gaze, your hands clutching on the bedsheet in frustration. 

Huffing, you plop back down on the pillows below you, desperately wishing you could have stayed in your dreamland a little bit longer.

---

It is Alys Rivers who enters your bedchamber next with a gentle knock, a little bit after your husband had departed. 

But when your lady-in-waiting glides into the room, she is anything but gentle, with her feline-like eyes lined with kohl and her beautiful tresses as dark as the nights at Bear Island during the late Winter months. Even from the first time you met her, you knew she was a force to be reckoned with.

Although all that doesn’t make Alys any less sweet.

“My lady, why haven’t you gotten up? It is unladylike to wallow in bed when the birds are already singing,” Alys chides, but there is jest in her tone.

“There are no birds in Harrenhal, Alys,” you tell her, getting up finally at her behest. You frown out the window, dark clouds in the skies – like always. “Only crows.”

“But they still sing,” Alys says with a smile as she stands behind you when you sit on the chair in front of the vanity.

The crows do not sing . They caw and they rattle and they click, loud in their mourning. Perhaps to always remind the ones who still live in the largest castle in the Seven Kingdoms of the last tragedy that befell in one the towers just a little more than a decade ago – continuing on the curse that is said to permeate through the walls of Harrenhal. How the previous head of House Strong, Lord Lyonel, and his heir, Ser Harwin Strong, burned to a painful death in a blazing fire that trapped them inside their chambers.

It was an awful story to hear. You can still picture the tears in your husband’s eyes when he told it to you. He was just a boy of ten and one when it happened, but the guilt for not being able to do anything still haunts him. He looked up to uncle so much, the valiant knight that once protected Princess Rhaenyra as her sworn shield – or, Queen Rhaenyra now.

You wonder why your first love never talked about Ser Harwin Strong before, for he sounded so good and righteous and brave like a knight of the Realm should be. He had told you tales of the other knights — like Ser Criston Cole, the Cargyll twins, Ser Harrold Westerling, and even his uncle, Prince Daemon Targaryen. But never of Ser Harwin.

“Your face will stay that way if you keep it up, my Lady,” Alys says with a light chuckle, breaking you from your thoughts. You huff a laugh back, softening your features.

Alys starts to brush your hair like your mother did, like Dorothea did, and for that, you are grateful for her. Alys’ presence brings you so much comfort in these cold stone walls. She is the only friend you have in Harrenhal besides your husband.

With your hair done in two loose double dutch fishtail braids, Alys moves to the wooden armoire. “What would you like to wear today, my Lady?”

“The violet dress, please,” is your instant answer, knowing it will cheer you up during this dull day.

It is the one Dorothea made for you to wear to her wedding (your sister excitedly sent you a letter moons before her wedding with a sample of the fabric she had found in one of the shops in Riverrun that she knew became your favorite color ever since you were ten and two), it is the one you spent wearing most your days while at King’s Landing, and it is the one you were wearing when your prince kissed you that one last time before you had to leave his side –

“Ah… Lord Jeremy’s favorite,” Alys says with a knowing smirk. 

Your face flushes because you cannot even deny it. Whenever you wore the violet dress, the timidness in your Lord Husband disappears, replaced with longing desire. 

Both Dorothea and Alys had told you before about how Jeremy had been smitten with you ever since the two of you met at Dorothea and Tobias’ wedding in Riverrun all those years ago. The latter of the two told you how the young Strong man came back to Harrenhal after the wedding and talked her ear off for hours about you – when all you had done at the wedding was accidentally made it known that you did not like the dish Jeremy made for the feast and stepped on his toes a few too many times when your mother forced you to dance with him. 

At least he is a far better cook now, and you are a better dancer as well.

“You’ve not bled yet this moon, right, my Lady?” Alys asks suddenly. 

You shake your head as you stand to move by her side. “I’ve not, but I think my cycle is just irregular.” 

Alys hums knowingly with a frown. As your only confidant in Harrenhal, Alys knows that although you and your husband share the same bed every night, it does not mean the two of you have consummated the marriage. 

“I overheard Ser Simon talking to Maester Fishl last night, my Lady,” Alys starts, already clearly frustrated at her own mention of the two elderly men, “He wants to know why you are not with child yet… He wants the maester to check up on you,” she then takes your hands in hers, fury in her tone and dark eyes, “I do not like the thought of these horrid men poking and prodding at your body, my Lady. Tell Lord Jeremy to waste his seed in a cup. Bring it to me and I’ll find a way for it to take in your womb without him having to touch you.”

You give her a watery smile, so touched at your lady-in-waiting’s care for you. Squeezing her hand, you tell her, “That won’t be necessary, my sweet Alys. The reason I have not lain with my husband is not because I find him to be grotesque... Actually… I find him quite the opposite… He is handsome and loving and not at all like the other men in his family. But I just needed time to…” Your head shakes, laughing to yourself, “Just… time.”

Alys sighs, nodding in acceptance. “If you say so, my Lady. But I hope you know, my offer will forever stand.”

“I know,” you murmur softly with a smile. “Thank you, Alys.”

Then you wrap your arms around her in a tender hug.

---

You spend the rest of your day helping the castle servants in any way you can. Although you are a Lady of a vassal House, you did not have the same luxuries as the Lords and Ladies of House Strong. You grew up doing your own chores, cleaning up after yourself, and helping with other duties around Mormont Keep. So you do the same in Harrenhal, finding comfort in the little things.

You help the kitchen staff prep for supper. You wash, sew, and repair clothes with the maids. You tend to the horses with the stable boys. Then finally, after sitting in while the septa teach the children, you turn the common room into an art class, with an easel for all the youngins present – it is your favorite part of your day.

As you float around the room to give each child your attention, there is an ache in your heart. You miss your nieces and nephews so wholly. From Jeor and his little sister, Marjorie, on Bear Island – looking more and more like Braeden every day – to Dorothea’s twins, Talis and Lyanna – a perfect copy of her and Forrest, just with Tully clear blue eyes. 

It also has you desperately longing for one or two – or five , like your mother had – of your own in the future. 

You used to dream of a babe with silver hair and amethyst eyes. But now you will not mind one bit for one with brown hair and honeyed eyes as warm as the summer sun.

The man with those same eyes meets you by the doors of the small hall later for supper, his gaze hungrily taking you in your violet dress with a hard swallow.

“How did the hunt go?” You ask, taking his arm extended towards you.

“Your brother will be sick of rabbit stew once he leaves Harrenhal,” Jeremy answers with a coy grin as he leads you inside the small hall. 

“That is quite an ambitious feat, my Lord Strong,” you tease as he pulls back a chair for you to sit on.

“And it is an ambitious feat I dare to take on. For my brother-in-law’s happiness is also my lovely wife’s happiness, my Lady Strong,” he says when he sits beside you, taking your hand to place a dainty kiss on your knuckles.

Because of that, there is a flutter in your stomach that stays there while the men of House Strong drone on about politics and other things that do not interest you during supper. You always try to pay a little bit of attention but your thoughts always drift you away. You only get snapped out of your reverie of seeing Dorothea and her twins and Jorah again soon when the castellan of House Strong and temporary Head of the House in the stead of Lord Larys Strong still at King’s Landing, Simon Strong, says your name. 

You turn to your husband’s grandfather, letting him know you have his attention now with a slight lean in his direction at the head of the table.

“There will no longer be time for the juvenile art classes you’ve been holding, today was the last. We need the boys to spend more time training and the girls learning more useful pastimes,” Ser Simon commands gruffly.

Unable to stop yourself, you glare back. “They’re children, Ser Simon.”

The oldest child in the group is a boy of only seven years.

Ser Simon huffs out roughly. “Do tell me, my Lady. But don’t they train even the women to fight on Bear Island?”

“Yes, but we have wildlings and Ironmen landing on our shores, trying to pillage our home. But that’s—” 

“And now we have two dragons fighting for a throne, dragging everyone in the Seven Kingdoms into their war – that includes women and children, if your mind can wrap around that, my Lady,” he interrupts you. Hidden from view, your fists clench on your lap at the way you are being talked down to like you are just a child.

Then you feel a soft touch, a warm hand over your fist, comforting in every way. When you glance at your husband, his fierce glare is on his grandfather. “I will see to it that the boys spend more time on the training field, grandfather. But they will also continue their painting lessons with my wife once a week. Just because a war is coming, it does not mean we should take the children’s joy away along with their precious youth.” 

“My Talia loves her painting lessons with her aunt,” Ser Sean, Jeremy’s older brother, pipes up. Then he turns to the girl of just 6 beside him. “Don’t you, honey?”

From across the table, Talia nods excitedly before she beams brightly at you. Your heart melts at the sight.

Ser Simon huffs again, but relents. “Fine. But if I find the children lacking in their training then it will be done for good.”

You and Jeremy both thank him, before you turn to your husband, a small and appreciative thank you on your lips. His hand closes tighter around yours as he smiles warmly back.

---

After supper, Jeremy walks you to the southern parts of the castle, to a room far from the bedchamber you share with him but one that you spend the most of your time in since arriving in Harrenhal. Jeremy drops you off with a kiss on your cheek, leaving you to enter by yourself, knowing you like your time alone sometimes. 

As soon as you walk in, you are hit with the precious scent of chamomile and pine — reminding you of both your mother and father. Instantly, you feel as though you are at home, which was the exact reason why Jeremy gifted you this room. 

In your first few weeks at Harrenhal, you were visibly very miserable although you tried your hardest not to be. But the walls are too cold and depressing, even colder than Bear Island, for the walls of your home had the warmth of wood and the sound of laughter drifting out of every room. So Jeremy found the room in the castle with the largest window – a fault in the build, but now your blessing in disguise – that the sun actually shines in when it appears sometime when the skies are cloudless. Then he built wooden shelves that now line all the walls, hiding the stone behind it to appear more like the rooms back home. Now they hold all your favorite things – like gifts from your family, the books you love to read, and material for your crafts.

It is one of the most thoughtful and loving gifts you have ever received, and you cherish your husband for it so much.

As you close the door behind, you see that Alys had already been in and lit up the lamps and kindled the fireplace for you to spend the rest of your evening in here before heading to bed. She had also watered and tended the plants that bring life to the small room, her knowledge and green thumb far better than yours. 

You cross the room to sit at your desk, pulling out a piece of parchment and the golden writing quill that your first love had given to you. And once again, like every night since you arrived back home on Bear Island after the Targaryen sibling’s wedding, you write to him — just like you had promised him you would.

The only time you had stopped was just this past week, for you had received some news from both your eldest brothers that was quite hard to digest. 

It was Braeden’s raven scroll that came first:

To my dearest Little Cub, I truly don’t know how to tell you this news, so I’ll just come out with it. Prince Aemond came tonight looking for you — looking like a wild man that I’ve never seen before. He did not give me the chance to ask or get an answer for anything else, for once he heard where you were, he stormed out and flew away on Vhagar.  I’m so terribly sorry I did not do more, and I hope my inaction does not cause your heart more pain and confusion. Yours always and forever, Braeden

And then Forrest’s came two days after, a letter filled with angry scratches of thoughts unable to come out properly:

He’s gone. Luke is gone. I promised to protect him but he’s just gone, Little Cub. What kind of knight am I if I cannot even protect the young boy who reminds me so much of our brother. I just keep picturing Jorah dying that terrible death… Sister… They say it was Prince Aemond and Vhagar that took the life of Lucerys and Arrex. How can he do this? What the hell happened to the boy we grew up with? I know you do not know the answer since he has made himself scarce in your life and ours but still… Luke did not deserve this. I saw him swear on his life in front of his mother and under the Eyes of the Seven that he will not partake in any fighting. And I know that little boy like he is my own little brother, and I know he did not break his word. Whatever happened, it is the fault of Aemond, and Aemond alone.

You could feel your brother’s pain emitting from every word he had written. You wept alone in the same room you are in now for the boy you had only met once before. His young, cherubic face and sweet pleasantries to Princess Helaena burning in your mind.

When you first read Forrest’s letter, the hopefulness you felt from Braeden’s news quickly evaporated. You were so distraught, you could not believe it. Unlike your Septa Earla’s tales about Prince Aemond when you were younger, these ones are more unbelievable. A kinslayer.  Aemond is now a kinslayer. How much has he changed in the last 4 years, 5 month, and 8 days since you last saw him that he has become someone who can take the life of his young nephew?

How could he be so different from the one you once knew, your best friend, the first and only man you have ever loved?

You have always been optimistic, and you know in your heart that whatever it was that caused Aemond to stop writing to you was not his fault. That it was something else keeping him from you. Perhaps he was even doing it to protect you. You just hoped he has read your and knows you are always thinking of him.

But with all that has unfolded, you are certain he did not get any of your letters – even the ones you sent while you were at Riverrun and in Harrenhal. Which could only mean that someone had been tampering your communication with your prince. 

Can you be that high on yourself to think that your love could have prevented all this from happening?

You are not sure, but what you are sure of is that now you think you are in a better headspace to write to your first love again, ready to lay your heart out on paper once more.

You write that you want to ease the pain and burden he has suffered throughout the years, knowing there is probably plenty for him to do something so terrible. You wish you could have been there for him during the death of his father, the way you were there for your husband when his father died just a few moons ago. You wish you could have celebrated all your name days together, for every last one you had the past four years, something was missing. You write that you still want him in your life. Perhaps not as his lover, but just as his best friend once again… 

With all that said, what you write to end the letter was:

But I think it’s time to let you go, my prince.

You did not even realize you had been crying until you taste the salt on your lips. After wiping the tears, you fold the letter up and seal it with wax, stamping it with the House Strong coat of arms instead of the Mormont sigil.

You stand then, letter in hand, walking to the hearth of the fire.

Just as you are about to throw the letter in, gone into the flames and unanswered like all the others you had written —- something stops you.

You want to keep it, the last letter that you poured out your feelings on. It is important to you, so you want to keep it as a reminder. 

On one of the shelves, you pull out a heavy book and slip it in between the pages. 

Shutting it, you stare at the cover with your heart aching at a memory. With your fingers, you trace the title… It is your prince’s favorite book, so it is the perfect place for keeping your last words for him.

Smiling sadly, you shelve the book back in its place. Then with one last look around the room, knowing you will not be spending as much time in there like you had before, you walk out the door.

--

Jeremy is already comfortably in bed with just a sleeping shirt and smallclothes on when you slip into the room. 

He places the book down he was reading on the bedside table and stands as soon as he sees you, looking surprised. “Hey, uh… You’re back earlier than usual.”

You give him a small shrug and that sweet, gentle smile of yours. “I think I just missed you, that’s why.”

Jeremy splutters, cheeks and ears turning red, looking like he did not quite catch what you said. It is as if he can’t even fathom you saying that to him. “Wha– uh…?”

Your stomach swoops in regret at the insecure look that flashes on your husband’s face. Was it really that unbelievable?

Though you are kind to your husband, you know you have not been very forthcoming with your feelings. If anything, you have kept him at an arm’s length, always close and yet not close enough — and Jeremy, sweet and docile Jeremy, does not seem to mind at all, just happy for anything he gets from you. You are sure if you asked him to eat out of the palm of your hand, he would. But you are not cruel. At least not in that way. You are just closed off, guarded with your heart – and that is not entirely your fault either. If you could, you’d give Jeremy your everything. You want to — so, so much. But it’s just not that easy.

But now, as you step closer and closer to where he stands frozen in his spot, you want to try .

Once in front of him, you gently push your palm on his chest, coaxing him to sit back down on the bed. You climb on top of him when he does, and his honeyed brown eyes are gazing at you like you are the sun, the moon, and all of the stars. 

You look at him just the same.

Then as you thread your fingers through the soft, brown curls at the back of his head, you bend down to finally press your lips against his – for the first time since the two of you said your vows.

Though his hands grip tight onto your hips, Jeremy still parts from you, sadness and more hesitation in those baby browns, “Are you sure.. I know another has your heart…” He bites his bottom lip, downcast, “You still dream of him.”

You cup his face, forcing him to face you and the tender smile on your lips. “No, Jeremy…” you begin, pressing your forehead against his. “This morning when I woke… It was you I was dreaming of.”

Your confession makes him exhale out a breath, hopeful. “Truly?”

You graze the tip of your nose against his as you nod, sharing the air he breathes. “Truly…”

Then it is Jeremy who captures your lips again, desperate and wanting.

And as the two of you take turns stripping the other between hurried kisses; you think that maybe, just maybe, it is possible for you to love someone new.

[cheriladycl01]

hey babe!

may I request AM!Seb X RB!driver!reader where she's like a female version of what he was when he drove for RB? Like, cocky, competitive and young, where she's basically him paying for his sins lmao

thanks <333

I see my reflection in your eyes - Sebastian Vettel x RedBullDriver! Reader

Plot: Cocky Young Red Bull Driver looks good when your in a team with Max Verstappen. She’s a menace on track and Sebastian feels as though he needs to put her in her place.

Warnings: SMUT. Car sex. Angst. Sexism (in the MS industry) etc. MINORS DNI 18+

A/N: Thank you for the request, my fav reader!

Credit to violetvettel for the GIF

You and Max were exceptional team-mate since you'd been promoted to Red Bull in 2021 but you'd became more of a menace on track than when you were a part of AlphaTauri.

Even though it wasn't a championship winning car, every week you were driving it like one. In your season prior to your promotion. You hadn't finished outside the points, had no DNF's a few podiums and even a race win.

Horner came to you during the summer break proposing to switch you out for Albon. Of course you immediately agreed. Max was the same age as you so you were actually already pretty close, you were always found causing mayhem around the paddock despite being in different teams right now.

Obviously once you came into RedBull the car just suited your driving style so well, and you adapted much quicker than Pierre and Alex had and on your first race in 2021 you'd set pole position. You and Max had locked out the front row and you were buzzing with energy. This could be the year you win the constructors.

However, the first race was a shame in Bahrain, Lewis had collided with you into Turn 5. Lewis ended up winning, Max in P2 and Valtteri in P3. It was supposed to be your podium ... but it didn't matter too much.

The season wasn't just a Max and Lewis battle, but you were up there as well. A real challenge for Max and you were confident.

Who wouldn't be ... first female race winner in F1 and at one point in the season you were Championship Leader?

And Sebastian always was irked by this. Because you reminded him so much of himself in his RedBull days. He was cocky, arrogant and if he was being honest with himself a bit of a prick and he could see that with you.

He didn't know if it was the more you hung out with Max or if it was just the ego getting bigger and bigger but he remembered you as a sweet little rookie... freshly out of F2 and were nervous any time you got in the car.

But now he looked at you and all he could see what the smirk... that sexy sexy smirk.

But now you were sat in a drivers conference talking about the upcoming race and problems from the last one.

The last race was Monaco and you'd podiumed with Lando and Max and it was an incredible feeling. The three of you had spent the night partying in Monte Carlo casino and the pictures were in the tabloids the next day.

The next race was Azerbaijan and towards the last few laps it was you battling it out with Sebastian. Your car wasn't at peak performance as you hadn't done well in qually. But you managed to keep it up and came through with your second win of the season thus putting you up as current championship winner. Considering all the other podiums you'd had.

The feeling of stepping out the car was incredible. The fist pump in the air, your hair caked in champagne and sweat on the podium. It was an incredible feeling.

"So comments on those last few laps, Sebastian!" an interviewer asks.

"I mean it was ridiculous i don't understand how personalities weren't awarded ..." he frowns looking over at you smiling and giggling with Lando who was, along with Max a best friend of yours on the grid.

"Please elaborate!" he asks.

"Track limits, driving dangerously ... do i need to go on!" he laughs making you turn you head to him and scoff.

"I hope you aren't talking about me" you ask looking over at him and the other drivers go silent. You are now sat back with your arms crossed and a frown on your face as you look down at him in front of you.

"Of course I'm talking about you" he grits out and you just smile at him.

"Calm down, lets not get your panties in a twist!" you mumble so only Lando and Max either side of you can and they try to hide their laughs from you.

"What was that?" he asks twisting round fully to look at you now.

"Nothing, nothing. I think just don't comment on my driving abilities when I defended from you for the last 15 laps ... pretty well" you smirk looking down at him.

He just tuts turning back round making you shake your head and sigh as the interviewer looks to you to direct his next question.

"Y/N how does it feel as a woman to have all these world champions behind you after today?" he asks and you cock your head at him in surprise.

"Re-word that..." you smile at him, and he looks just as confused as you did.

"Sorry?" he asks and everyone around looks towards you.

"All you needed to ask was who it feels to have all these world champs behind me, my gender adds nothing to the question specifically ... if you wanted to ask me about my first race win as the only woman to win an F1 race ... that different" you smile and the interviewer coughs awkwardly at the same time as you PR manager shakes her head at you to stop.

"But to answer, i had the upgrades in the car. I was determined i had a good start and the race went my way today... and I think that's all that really matters..." you smile.

After the meeting, all it took was for you to be stood outside the McLaren hospitality next to Lando and Daniel, laughing with the pair of them for Sebastian to come forward looking at you with his hands on his hips.

"You, come with me!" he exclaims grabbing your wrist making you follow him.

"What the fuck! Seb, let me go!" you say as he pulls you out of the race track paddock entrance and to where his blacked out Aston Martin was.

"Let me go!" you tug on the tight grip on your wrist.

"Just stop! What happened to the sweet girl i first met here, you are ruthless, cocky and rude now! I don't like it!" he exclaims looking over you with a frown on his face.

"I've matured Seb, I'm not the same 21 year old i was when i first came here and first met you. Stop treating me like this little girl ... I'm done being nice and friendly ... i didn't get my way that way. Just deal with it!" you say throwing your hands up in exasperation.

"Matured, yeah right? You were arguing with me in there like a spoilt little brat!" he says, his eyes were so angry right now that you actually had to take a step back.

"Seb, deal with it!" you frown, stepping away and going to turn around.

"Get in the car Y/N!" he says opening the passenger side door.

"Why should i!" you ask not facing him to give him the satisfaction that you are fully listening to him.

"Because, I want to talk ... just us two!" he says his features fully softening, your brain was melting.

It couldn't work out if he was mocking you, or if he was genuinely being sweet. You stand there, now turned back around just watching his face as he stands there holding his passenger side door open.

"Argh fine!" you cry throwing your hands up. You were part of the Ferrari Driver Development Programme when you were 21 in F2 and Sebastian was a really important part of that development and the push you needed to get into F1. He was 31 and you saw him as a friendly mentor back then.

But the way he treated you, you'd developed a crush on him and you just knew it was wrong. A 10 year age gap that you knew the media would see as an abuse of power if anything was to ever happen between the two of you.

So you started to repress those feelings. You hung out more with Charles who joined you in your rookie season starting in 2018. Then when Lando joined there was more people your age on the grid. Even though Max was 26, he acted much older thanks to the early age he had started driving at which did lead you more to Charles and Lando. But where Charles was, Seb also was.

A few season's later and you were being promoted to Red Bull.

Seb drove you all the way to a quiet and coastal part of Baku, no-one was around.

"You embarrassed me today..." he sighs looking over at you as he pulled the handbrake up so you guys were stopped.

"Oh big whoop... all the other drivers do it and they don't get shit for it!" you complain crossing your arms over you chest and leaning back in the chair to get comfortable. You could tell you were going to be here for a while and you were in the middle of city you didn't know in a pretty quiet place and you didn't want to risk your chances of getting out and getting more lost.

"You've never done that before. Why today?" he asks looking over you.

"BECAUSE!" you shout spinning round to look at him, tears brimming in your eyes.

"I never ever thought you'd comment on my driving in a bad way when it wasn't ... that was my best race to date! I went from P12, all the way up to P1. I had to fight you for the last few laps and I was getting tired. I'm current championship leader and you didn't even acknowledge me on the podium or in the cool down room. You didn't say well done or congrats ... you didn't even look at me so how was i supposed to react when the first thing i can here about my performance from my old mentor is that it was dangerous. I shouldn't have the win and i should have had a penalty for defending from you? I worked my ass of for that P1 Seb and you know it, just because your getting old and the sport is changing so the grid isn't your fucking rich boys club anymore doesn't mean you get to see on me!" you scream the whole time, your throat scratchy once you take a breath and trying to get the tears under control.

"You think I'm old huh?" he asks and your gaze snaps over to him.

"Is that the only thing you got from that whole interaction?" you say with an exhausted sigh, from constantly fighting and you were getting to the point where you were so done.

"Well, you seem annoyed that this ... old man is giving you a run for you money!" he says and you look over at him.

"I'm leaving" you say going to open the door but he stops you.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry look I just ... it's hard getting used to all ... this!" he says looking you up and down, making you cock your head to the side.

"That doesn't give you the right to treat me the way you did today. You embarrassed me too" you say softly.

"Then, let me show you I'm sorry. Because I am" he sighs pushing some of your hair behind your ear.

"W- Seb what are you doing?" you ask looking at him. You eyes widened and he couldn't help but smile. You had these walls up for the past few years, creating this sharp and unapproachable look in your eyes, almost like a viscous cat, but now your eyes were wide and doe like, the way they used to be before Red Bull.

"I've waited too many years for this moment, and I know you have too" he smiles, coming closer to you leaning over the centre of the car.

"I- no i" you try say but a blush covers your face proving to him you really didn't.

"Just shut up" he laughs before pulling you in and kissing you. He tilted your head to the side to get closer to you, and you let him. This was a moment you'd dreamt of for far too long.

You pull back, taking your seat belt off and climbing over to the drivers side to straddle across him.

"If we're doing this ... It cant be a one time thing" you say holding both sides of his cheeks.

"You've always had all the power here sweetheart. It's your move, whatever we do. But I'll be here whatever that is. I promise you! I really care for you, I -" he smiles up at you and you nod. Looking over him once more before making your decision and pulling him back in for a kiss, his hands find there way to your hips pulling you down onto him a little more making you feel everything he had to offer.

"Seb, fuck you!" you laugh as you pull back.

"That was the plan" he smirks looking up at you.

"No, I don't think you've understood how long I've liked you for but we couldn't ... we shouldn't be doing this. If people found out" you said looking at him.

"I'm about to tell you something that doesn't leave this car. 2022 will be my last year driving. If you can wait for me, once I've retired this..." he gestures between the two of you. "Can be something more. But for now, our little secret?" he smiles and you nod feverishly.

Maybe you were still on the post win high, or Seb admitting he liked you as much as you did, not with words but you could just tell from the last 20 minute conversation, but you would do anything this man told you to do right now.

"I'll wait for you, but right now i need you Seb!" you breathed looking over him and his hands find their way up to the back of your neck and pulling you closer to him.

You hands are going anywhere they can, his neck, his biceps, his shoulders, his chest under his team top.

They ventured down starting to palm him through the joggers he'd worn to the track. Groans came out of his mouth that had your mind spinning at the thought that this was actually happening.

You were with Sebastian Vettel.

You couldn't even comprehend this right now.

His fingers found there way under the skirt you were wearing and into your underwear where he started to circle your clit. Your head immediately fell into his neck at the feeling trying to muffle your moans.

"Fuck Seb, please" you cry into his shoulder as you start to move your hips to get more friction.

"What sweetheart. You need to tell me what you want. Communication ... I know you aren't good at that but you gotta try for me babygirl" he says and if he wasn't making you feel like a melted puddle of water right now you would have slapped him for that comment, even though he was so right.

He enters too fingers starting at a slow place to open you up and gradually speeds up, meeting your pathetic bounces as he holds his free arm around your back.

"I need more, Seb i need you!" you say, reaching down into his loose pants to feel just how hard he'd gotten.

"Fuck baby, just like that!" he says, his hand comes down to the side of the seat to recline it a little seeing how cramped you were at the your back was close to hitting the horn. He leant fully back, taking his fingers out of you, a groan of complaint at the loss of feeling.

"Go on baby" he says, sucking his fingers off, cleaning what was there from you before reclining himself back onto the seat his arms behind his head as he waited for you.

You pulled down his joggers and pants, his dick having been straining against them the entire time.

You move yourself up, pulling your panties to the side your arms coming either side of his head on the chair as you sunk down onto him.

"Fuck" you breathed as the sting from the stretch had you biting your lip.

"You got this sweetheart, just a little more" he smiles, his arms coming down from behind his head to settle on your hips to help you lower yourself smoothly onto him.

He was on cloud nine right now, he'd always liked you and now having you here was like a treat he'd never had before but became addicted to on the first taste.

You clamped around him at the feeling which released a whiny groan from the man below you. Once you'd bottomed out, you sat there for a little, letting yourself adjust.

"Who knew, I'd win and this is my celebration" you joke looking down at him, and he just laughs back.

"I can tell you, my intention wasn't to have sex in my car with you, I just wanted to apologize. But i cant help myself when it comes to you" he groans as you start to move a little bit.

"I never thought-" you moan in between kisses with him. "I'd have this" you say as you start to move up and down a little quicker. He starts to help you moving you up and down on him with his hands but his hands were starting to shake from the sheer amount of pleasure he was experiencing.

"I don't ever want this to end" he says as he starts to run your clit, feeling himself get embarrassingly close as quickly as he was from how you were clenching around him.

"It doesn't have too!" you smile, pulling him into a kiss.

He starts to thrust up into you, his movements from his hands getting quicker as your bounces managed to keep up. Beauty of being an athlete and having insane stamina.

You both come to your highs at the same time, you fall onto him your head going into his neck and his arms wrap around you to hold you too him so you couldn't go anywhere.

He didn't want you to.

"So... am I still a rude prick?" you ask smiling at him.

"Yeah, but i guess we can say your my rude prick. I'll keep you in line don't worry" he smirks and his words made you nod and blush, before placing another light, yet sweet kiss on his lips, making him sigh happily.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[sirbird]

Chapter 15 has had me in a chokehold for a while 🧍‍♂️

[torubeth]

degradation taken too far (mature content 18+)

context/warnings : it’s smut, so kids shoo! hell of a lot of degradation. they’re so mean i hate them. (swearing, words used : slut and slutty) angst to i have no idea what. pls do lmk if i missed any tws. and as always, its not proofread :p gojo ver.

ryomen sukuna ‘is that all you can do? all your yapping earlier about ridin’ me was just talks? answer me’ his sudden shift in demeanour has you feeling really small. sure he is a rude ass prick but not to you. never to you.

‘no- i can take it. i really can ryo’ tears sting at your eyes as you struggle to take in his full length. his hands giving your waist a small squeeze.

‘yeah and that’s all you’ve been saying for the past goddamn fifteen minutes. either you take it like a good girl or i’ll just have to find someone who will. trust me, i can’ he eyes held no remorse of the words he just spewed and that’s when you break.

correction, you shatter.

somewhere in the back of your head you knew he’ll never leave you but him wording it out makes it seem like it’s bound to happen.

and so tears stroll down your cheeks, your hands and legs giving out on you, your body going limp against his and you whisper the same thing over and over again.

‘don’t leave me ryo. i’m sorry. didn’t mean to upset you. i’m so sorry. don’t leave’

quickly his arms wrap around your body protectively, your face between his shoulder blade and neck, wetting the area with fresh batch of tears.

‘i could never leave you. you’re-’ you’re it for me. ‘you’re always the one that keeps me sane. there’s no way i’ll ever leave you. i’m sorry baby, forgive me. i didn’t mean a word of what i said’ he says.

when he didn’t get a response from you ‘look at me’ he whispers. slowly you leave the comfort of his neck and meet his eyes.

‘i didn’t mean it. you could leave me on deathbed and i still wouldn’t mean it’

‘i can’t leave you ryo. i love you way too much’ you sniffle, new tears threatening to spill so you go back to huddle against his neck.

god. he knows you mean it. and that’s what makes him feel like a dickhead.

‘me too, i- i lo-’ he struggles, just as your palm reaches up to cover his mouth.

‘i know ryo, i know’ you whisper, placing your forehead against his, both of you basking in the quietness of the surrounding.

geto suguru ‘fuckin-! ah shit! some insane grip you have on me baby. can’t move if you clench and lock me up like that’ he smirks against your neck.

‘and a bit quiet today ain’t ya? you sure had a lot to say to satoru earlier heh’ he remarks.

‘we were just catching up suguru, nothing-! nothing more’ you whine.

‘catching up you say? does catching up require smiles and touches? do they angel baby?’ he raises his eyebrows.

‘no..’ you avert your eyes away from his.

‘that’s what i thought. so for that, now you pay’ he pulls out suddenly, and pushes all the way back in making you yelp out loud.

‘sugu! ah fuck, i don’t think i can go another round baby. s’too much!’ the pressure was starting to get to you and you were starting to lose stability.

‘hah, i know you can baby, this slutty pussy’s all you’re good for anyway. fuck, doesn’t matter whose it is, as long as you’re filled. am i right?’ his words pierced straight through your heart.

since when did he-?

out of reflex, your hands reach out to touch his face to make sure that this was a dream nightmare. otherwise there’s no way he-

‘don’t touch me with those filthy hands’ he spits but makes no effort to push your hand off.

‘do you really think that’s all i’m good for?’ your voice is soft, filled with pain, and suddenly it’s like he’s broken out of his trance.

what the fuck am i doing, he thought.

slowly he pulls out, all whilst holding your hand against his cheek.

‘absolutely not. no. fuck, did not mean it angel. i promise. i- i don’t know what came over me-! didn’t mean it. please i’m sorry. next time if i ever lose my shit with you, i want you to take the nearest sharp object and plunge it into my chest’ he heaves out a guttural sigh.

‘you were really mean you know..’ you wipe your eyes.

‘i know baby, fuck. i didn’t mean it. i did not mean it. i’ll never do it again princess, ever’ he repeats.

his face lands on your chest, thanking all the gods and the stars out there for giving him another chance.

he’ll never screw up again and that’s a promise.

nanami kento ‘you really couldn’t wait for a few hours? just had to go and think with your cunt, right? have you no- ugh! no shame?’ his thrusts were sloppy as his hands were placed around your hips.

‘kento- slow down baby, i- i don’t think i can last’ you whine, hands clutching at the sheets.

‘no. you asked for this you little slut. so shut. the. fuck. up. and take it!’ each syllable was accompanied by a harsh thrust.

the usually composed, sweet and calm nanami was nowhere to be found. he’s never once called you a ‘slut’ and what caused this? you rubbing him through his pants and riling him up at his office dinner earlier tonight.

he warned you off multiple times but did you listen? no.

‘why are you so quiet now? i thought this is what you wanted’ his voice comes out raspy and cold.

a quiet but audible whimper escaped your lips, making him halt his actions.

slowly he pulled out, gently laying you on your back as your body shook with each sob.

‘sweetheart…? why are you…’

you look up at him, eyes puffy and swolllen ‘i’m sorry kento, it’s just that, you’re never home these days and i missed you so much’ a cry that’s sure to crack his heart leaves your lips.

‘i just wanted you all to myself for tonight but i didn’t mean to be a bother-’

his warm body hovers over yours, ‘you’re never a bother baby. always know that. you will always be at the top of every and any list i make. there’s nothing more i want than coming home to you everyday after work. and i didn’t mean to lash out at you. you didn’t deserve that, i’m sorry’ he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

‘you will always have me sweetheart, never forget that. now let me make it up to you yeah?’

[gorejo]

▸ A SOUVENIR FOR THE MORNING - GOJO SATORU. - forbes gojo!au

synopsis: you’ve avoided him for the last eight years, only for him to pop back into your life, leaving you with no room to run away as he asks you to kiss him. catch is, he now has a golden ring on his promise finger.

content: 9.2k words (idk how this happened, and it's unedited bc it's too long to go through) afab!reader, she/her pronouns, cursing, explicit smut, light angst, mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex, fingering, cunnilingus, creampie, and anxiety triggers (picking at nails), pet names (baby, sweetheart, love, angel, good girl). minors do not interact.

The room is packed with people when you walk in. It was hard to recall some faces from the mirage of dimmed lights making you feel mildly dizzy and it didn’t help how the buzzing in your head from the smell of champagne and the loud chatter from the already drunk almost thirty-year-olds that can’t seem to contain their liquor-like novices, made you want to go home increasingly more.

“It’s only 9:41, and they’re drinking like they’ve never tasted alcohol before,” you heard Shoko mumble as she searched through her purse to reach for her perfume, “you want some?” Your best friend offered with a smile as she looked at you through the bathroom mirror. 

“I’m okay,” you smiled back, “can’t have all the boys following me around with that,” you teased.

Shaking her head in disapproval, “If you see me go home with any of these drunks, I give you full permission to hit me, no, in fact, I’ll pull up to your apartment every morning with coffee and take you to work for a week if I do,” Shoko shuddered while furrowing her brows only to quickly soften the moment she saw you lightly picking at your thumb – an anxious habit you’ve picked up throughout the years, only but the keenest of eyes being able to notice your anxiety.

“You okay love?” Her voice was sweet as she leaned against the restroom sink.

“Mhm, of course,” you faked a smile, “I guess I’m just a little nervous seeing everyone, you know,” lightly chuckling as you bit your lips. Little was underlying, when the knot in your stomach was building up, making you force down the urge to entirely vomit in the moment. 

“People are thrilled to see you again,” placing her hand on your shoulder, “it’s literally been years for you,” she huffed, pouting as she reminisced over the years she attended alone.  

“well ‘m sure one will be sure thrilled —” her voice suddenly drained from a crowd of people entering the restroom, slightly pushing you towards her, “nevermind come on, let’s go get something to drink,” Shoko muttered as she led you out, gently massaging your tense neck as she encouraged, bringing her lips to your ears, “if anyone bites, I’ll chop their dick off,” Shoko threatened with a flashing smile as she led you to a nearby table.  

It’s only 9:41 — no, 9:42.

College reunions, who looks forward to that? 

There was no particular reason for you to be anxious, it’s been years since. You’ve prepared yourself for this, meditating every single day since you got the notification in your email on a Tuesday evening — an invite to rsvp for a room at the Aman Hotel. 

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so nerve-wracking if you’ve been consistently going out to these every year since they’ve held one. But every year there seems to be a conflict in the schedule that forbade you to go.

One year it was your boss last-minute asking your team to work overtime, when a rookie employee lost all the data when he supposedly fell asleep, accidentally losing months of all your blood, sweat, and tears to make it for the deadline on your next advertising project. 

Poor kid was fired the next day.

The following year, you were determined to go, going as far as walking to the restaurant, when the sudden nausea of socializing plagued your mind. The joyous welcomings and celebrations annoyingly muffled in your ear as you groaned past a familiar voice that seemed to call out your name from a distance. Your feet walking on their own volition through your sleep deprivation. Only to wake up in your bed with countless text messages from your best friend asking what the hell happened. 

No wonder it was so fucking loud that night. 

Another was simple, not your fault this time. Shoko couldn’t make it because of her rounds at the hospital. 

Never in hell were you going to show up alone. 

And the last one, well your taxi got a sudden flat tire. That in itself was a confirmation for you not to go, nor did you have any dying wish to go. Quickly texting your best friend, huffing out a sigh of relief as you pressed send.

&lt;< sorry… can’t make it tonight. I promise, next year!! 

Today, well things seemed to have aligned. No overtime, no flat tires, no sleep deprivation, no nothing.

Maybe it was an excuse? 

Maybe you were subconsciously avoiding it? 

But ironic is it, that life seems to protect you when most fragile, only to push you out into the void when least expected making you feel even more vulnerable, feeling so exposed in such a cruel world. 

Or maybe the universe was waiting for this moment, that despite your consensus or approval, it was determined that you were ready to confront it — well it, being the owner of a pair of brilliant light blue eyes that sparkled like an aqua jewel, shining brighter than when you’ve last seen them clouded in tears as you let go of his trembling hand for the last time, crushing his pure heart as you left him with, “i’m sorry.”

Was that already eight years ago? 

But whether it was the consequence of your selfish choice or a blessing of choosing to be selfless, luck was on your side today…

… well, you hoped at least somewhat on your side.

“My … look who it is,” you heard a voice from behind you.

Turning around, though the shame of suddenly cutting him off enticed your heart as you faced him, you couldn’t help but smile at his familiar face walking over with two drinks in his hand.

Holding the same gentle eye smile, with a lock of his black hair falling down on his left side, donned in a white dress shirt with his sleeves cuffed at the elbows, no tie but buttons loosely opened with a pair of dark slacks and shined dress shoes. Geto Suguru walked over.

“Aren’t you still handsome,” you complimented with a sweet smile.

“Don’t feed into his ego like that,” Shoko chimed as she nudged your arm, “his head is already big enough.”

“Who me?” Exaggerating his response, only to soon level down to the same amiable smile, calm cadence you’ve remembered him to have as he offered you a drink, “I have to take all the compliment I can get, don’t know when you’ll go awol and go missing for another eight years.”

“Funny…” you muttered, rolling your eyes while taking the drink by the stem, “and thank you, Suguru.”

“Where’s mine?” Shoko jabbed while shooting a glare at his nonchalance.

“Not here,” Geto flashed a smile, innocently shrugging. 

“Whatever, I’ll get my own,” shaking her head in disapproval, grumbling while making her way to get a drink, but still making a point to stop in front of the man to warn, “Don’t say anything weird Suguru, I barely got her to come today.”

“Relax, ‘m just trying to catch up with an old friend,” Geto countered, making a point to whisper while smiling at you.

“I won't hurt her, that I promise,” Geto affirmed. 

Your best friend walked off only to turn around for a brief moment as she worriedly looked back at you “Text me for anything okay?” 

“I’ll be fine! Don’t worry,” you reassured.

“And don’t forget what I said, I’ll even cut his,” deadpanning while looking at your male counterpart, “I got no problem doing it, I’m medically certified anyways, there’s nothing that a sharp scalpel can’t fix, ” Shoko stated with an innocent smile while walking off. 

“So,” releasing a sigh as he pushed the strains of his hair back, “how’ve you been?” Geto smiled.

“I’ve been… okay,” you confessed while placing your lips against your glass before taking a sip, “could be better.”

“Thought you were living your life,” Geto teased, his voice laced with sarcasm, “Shoko wouldn’t tell us much about you.”

“I… I told her not to,” you confessed while leaning against your table, the pain of your heels starting to ache up your back. 

“How come? Weren’t we your friends too?” 

“I just didn’t think it was best to keep myself in the circle when I —” biting the inside of your mouth to stuff the suffocating knot forming underneath your lungs.

“ — When you broke up with him?” Geto finished your hesitation.

Nodding yes, you softly whispered, “I thought it was for the best for him.”

“For the best huh?” Geto chuckled, “well I guess you didn’t know him too well then.”

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrowed as your mouth started to feel dry, “I did it because we weren’t compatible, I would’ve been a stumbling block for him,” you stammered as your voice started to shake, “I- I would’ve halted his growth, and he would’ve hated me in the end if I selfishly held onto him when he was worth so much more than being with me,” you confessed with lips quivering as a tear fell, only to quickly brush it away before Suguru could notice.

But nothing passes with him, he reads right through you. His voice softened, “Was this your insecurity you’ve decided for him or — ” turning his body to face you while his body leaned on his arm against the standing table, “Was this something he actually would’ve struggled with?”

“I can’t change the past Suguru.” You shamefully avoided his gaze, “I still stand by my decision.”

“I don’t doubt that,” shrugging as he exhaled, “I mean, you did avoid him for almost a decade.”

“H-he seems happy,” you let your thoughts slip.

“You think so?” 

“Shoko would tell me about everyone, you, him” you unnoticingly spewed out your thoughts. “Of course not in full detail, but that you’ve established your own studio, and that you’ve finally released those photos.”

“Mhm, that’s correct, would’ve loved to have invited you to the exhibition, it was quite… a moment,” he chuckled while playing with his fingers. 

“That Megumi’s in high school and that he’s gotten in trouble for beating up the school bullies,” lowly laughing as you remembered how cute yet scarily mature he was for his age.

“Nanami hates corporate life, but still listens to what he has to say even if it’s outrageous.” Taking a sip of your drink, the sparkle of the beverage mildly burning your throat, “... and that he’s traveling the world living his life.”

Mumbling under your breath, “he’s even recently gone to Paris and had a night picnic with —”

“You stalked him?” Geto teased as he huffed out a laugh when he caught your shocked expression

“No — I mean, Shoko would tell me,” you stammered.

“Sure, whatever you say, sweetheart," Geto teased, "but just to let you know, he just got back. And from what I know, they haven’t met since he arrived. His plane should’ve landed,” while dramatically looking at his watch, “I don’t know like an hour ago? He’s probably on his way over here,” Geto handsomely winked as he suddenly placed a gentle hold of your waist and brought you near his side.

“You know… he’ll look for you, now knowing that you’re here” Geto whispered into your ear.

“How does he know… I told Shoko to not tell —”

Blinking innocently at you with a smile, while playing with his phone, “can’t avoid the poor guy forever.”

“I’m not avoiding him,” you sighed knowing what Geto had done, “just didn’t have a chance to run into him.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” releasing you with a smile, “ if you’re really sure about where you stand, then don’t run away from him.”

Geto's eyes flash to the entrance doors for a split second and land back on you.

“But would you look at that,” humming as he pointed to his empty glass yet his eyes caught sight of a familiar figure. It was the first in a while that you felt your heart sinking, all the blood in your body rushing out, making you suddenly feel lifeless and queasy.

“Gonna get another glass, you want one?” Suguru suggested.

“I’m okay, but thank you Suguru,” you quickly stated as your heart started to beat faster by the second.

“Sure, just don’t be a stranger again,” Suguru teased as he started to walk off, but your hand immediately reached out to catch his arm to quickly reinforce, “I- I mean it… thank you.”

Knowing your implication, smiling as he received your thanks, “No need, as fucking cringe it is,” chuckling as he shook his head, looking over your shoulder and back at you, “he’s my best friend, of course, I’ll be there for him.”

Letting go of his arm, your hands anxiously balled into a fist as you quickly turned around to avoid him, doing anything to hide from his sight. You felt your breaths becoming increasingly more difficult to inhale, and stagnant as your palms started to sweat. 

“I’m not avoiding him… I’m not avoiding him” you quietly mumbled to yourself, your words contradicting your actions as you walked further away onto the balcony, texting Shoko, 

<< I’ll be outside getting some fresh air (: let me know when you want to leave.  

Closing your phone, as you let the night breeze wash against your face, leaving light chills around your body, you nervously sighed, “It’s been eight years you say…”

— 

Your story was nothing short of the typical — difference in class and status, trying to make things work just for the convenience of love. It wasn’t hard at first to situate yourself into his life, nor was it any difficult for him to become accustomed to yours. 

They say time will change things, circumstances will get better. Be patient with your season, and you’ll be rewarded for your hardwork.

But somethings never change no matter how hard you try to alter the dice. He’s rich and you’re just average.

Money works for him, while you had to take on multiple jobs just to make your next rent at the start of your career. 

He was bound for greatness at a young age, trained by the best professionals and tutored by an exquisite league of mentors. While you had to settle for things, simply dreaming of the what can be. Thus, you worked even harder. You pushed yourself to keep up, to become of the level of who he’s supposed to be, and what he could accomplish. 

When he dozed off in class, you stayed up. You studied, pulled all-nighters, chugged caffeine, and oftentimes had to push back dates with him for simple study sessions — he didn’t complain, said he liked to just sleep with his head rested on your lap while he cuddled into your stomach while you studied. 

“Don’t mind me, I’ll be your personal radiator,” he would chime with a boyish grin on his face, taking off his sunglasses as he stretched his long legs before latching behind you like a koala, “wake me up when you’re done, I’ll drive you home,” Gojo peacefully murmured without forgetting to place a kiss to your shoulder, while you stressed over your next exam. 

With him, even the coldest days always felt warm.

And on the next day, he’ll always take you to class with some soup and hot tea, murmuring about your poor dietary choices and how you often neglect your health to study. But at least he’ll be gentle, and wish you the best on your exam with a light kiss — an innocent kiss that lasts a bit too long, his hand always gracing your body as he reluctantly releases you, brushing off the saliva that linked your lips together — his good luck charm he’ll argue, a little tease of what he’ll reward you with later when you got home for being his good girl. 

Gojo will always try to convince, “Life isn’t always about studying, baby,” stating with a pout, after your fifth time canceling a date he’s planned to instead go on a simple walk outside your flat, “you gotta live life to the fullest! And why stress when you’ve snatched me?”

“Well, I can’t live life to the fullest if I don’t study now, Satoru. And who’s gonna pay for all that ice cream you eat? All the sweets you stock up on?”

“What do you mean?” Deadpanning as he stopped in his tracks, “you have me, what more else do you need? I'm a double threat — I’m rich and handsome.”

“Satoru — I… never mind,” rolling your eyes, as you were hit with his puppy eyes. 

“Just promise,” his tall frame blocking you, “that you’ll always stick with me.”

“I’m not a piece of gum to just stick onto you, Satoru,” pushing him away, only for him to reach out to delicately hold your hand, “You know, if you’re a gum, you’ll be the sweetest one.”

“Yea, why so?”

“Because every time I eat you, you taste so sweet,” he teased with a flirty wink, “if you get what I — ow!” 

Rubbing his forearm that barely hurt, Gojo loved to exaggerate when he was with you. 

For Gojo, things came easily for him, as if the universe highlighted his life as a thousand-year blessing, nothing was out of his reach — that is, nothing but you. 

Shocking to many, he pursued you first. When asked about how you guys met, or what’s the story behind you two, or even if no soul asked… he’ll blabber on with an outrageous story, saying he fell in love the moment he laid his eyes on you, that you were the apple of his eye — an over the top fanfiction of you and him of how he just knew you were the person for him when you stumbled into the library, arms full of books and coffee in the other, and you magically just happened to just bump into him. And if it wasn’t for that encounter, then he would’ve never gotten your number. 

And without your number, he wouldn’t have been able to woo you with his charm, he’ll always add with a wink.

“You can say it’s fate,” he’ll proclaim, “I never went to the library, you know,” as he munched on his icecream with Megumi and Tsumiki savoring theirs, both unbothered by the story he’s told them countless times, “and the one day I chose to follow Suguru because he was simping over someone, I get coffee spilled all over my clothes and meet her? Damn, the heavens just wanted us together.”

All you remember of that day was that your precious coffee went to waste, with your books embarrassingly spread out on the floor, and you were stuck having to dry clean his ridiculously expensive clothes. 

But with him, you experienced all your firsts.

Your first handholding — Satoru confidently took your hand, immediately interlocking his fingers with yours, his palms engulfing yours entirely, “don’t be scared baby, I’m not scared,” flexing his muscles as he proudly smiled,  “I’ll protect you!” as he leads you through the haunted mansion, jolting through every jump scare, absolutely refusing to scream. 

You remember his palms felt particularly clammy that day. 

Your first kiss — on a spring picnic as he laid on your lap, his eyes sparkling a little more than usual as he looked up at you, innocently asking, “can I kiss you?” 

Your first argument. Ignoring him for a whole week, only for your resolve to quickly break when Suguru urgently called you to his house stating that Satoru was deathly ill — dark circles under his eyes, cheeks frail from not eating, wrapped up in his blanket as he dramatically announced his dying wishes while sneaking obvious glances at you. 

Geto’s diagnosis: pure insanity. 

To your first cuddle buddy, to innocent make-out sessions, to wonton looks and lustful touches for more. leading to your first sexual experience, both unknowing and inexperienced as he groaned into your ear in the back of his car one rainy night as you struggled to take his girth.

He was your first taste of goodness — like a forbidden fruit, you increasingly wanted him more. In soul, mind, and body, you etched yourself into him, making the tear even more painful to rip apart. 

Sure, loving him was easy — but loving you, the version who was so lacking compared to him and insecure was hard.

You tried to ignore it, you did your best to brush off the insecurity that came with each day of choosing him. But having the message that you were worth less than he was being constantly blasted to your face — the blatant discrepancies between social classes and the nature of how you both grew up, to the constant side glances you’ll get wondering how someone so normal like you, got with such a high net worth — gradually, it all made you dissociate from him. 

So you worked even harder. You stayed up longer than anyone else just to get that better grade. You worked that extra shift just to prove that you were capable. You doused yourself in knowledge, yet tried to stay humble to be seemingly perfect… but in that, you unknowingly pushed him further away, losing parts of yourself while at it. 

And your final straw? It was a text message you accidentally read on his phone while he silently napped, cutely dozing off as you massaged his scalp.

From: Mom.

>> Remember the girl I talked to you about? Nitori-chan’s family requested that we set up a date for you two. The faster the better, no need for our families to meet, it’s all settled. 

To: Minako.

<< Let’s meet. When are you free, Minako? 

From: Minako.

>> Whenever! I can meet now!

>> Is this about our potential engagement?

To Minako.

<< Yea, let's meet tonight to talk about it.

You remembered, that night you couldn't reach him.

The final trigger that blew it over. The rambling of your thoughts paralyzes you from thinking rationally.

You didn’t need to search up who she was. Nitori Minako, the youngest daughter of Japan’s leading technology company that rivaled to that of America’s fruit. A girl that was a year younger than you — smart, adamantly cute, cunning and rich — always following him around a bit too closely for your liking, preaching about how “Gojo-san promised he’ll marry me when we were young! Isn’t that so cute?”

how long was this going on for? 

Has he always been going on secret dates like this? Was he always just willing to let it slide when you rejected his dates because he had other options?

Was he leading you on this whole time before he’ll leave you for what he rightfully deserved? 

Was all of this a lie? All of what he said?

The pinnacle of your sanity breaking as your thoughts became corrosive and brittle the more you dove deeper into the pitfalls of your insecurities — of course what people said was right, there was no way someone like him can settle for any less.

... Ultimately, everything led to you quietly blurting out as he rambled about his day. 

Playing with your hand, smiling like a loser as he intertwined your smaller fingers with his, “Geez, there was this jeweler that I wanted to take you to, but dammit, the store closed early today. Maybe we can go — ”

“Let’s break up,” you suddenly announced, looking straight ahead.

The room suddenly felt quiet, so quiet that the thumping of your heart felt like loud sirens blaring next to your eardrum, and your body felt numb. 

After a few seconds, Satoru stammered, “w-what?”

Sighing as you closed your eyes, “I said, let’s break up, we aren’t — ” you reiterated.

“I heard you the first time,” Gojo hissed, still playing with your fingers but his grip now harsher, “just wanted to make sure you weren’t bullshitting right now.”

“I’m not joking, Satoru,” your voice stripped of any emotion, “we aren’t good for eachother.”

“Says who?” the man challenged. 

“It’s something that’s been on my mind,” you responded back while trying to pull back your hand, “l-let go, Satoru, it hurts…”

“Is it because of the text?” Gojo refused to let go, even more so gripping even harder, “Fuck... I'm sorry I should've explained earlier," his voice pleading for you to listen.

"I swear nothing happened, and nothing will ever happen, b-baby look at me,” your boyfriend’s — now, ex-boyfriend's — voice elevating and shaking. 

“Gojo,” softly pausing after his name, “let’s end it when things aren’t so bad… I can’t have you hating me more when we have no other choice but to break up,” finally pushing his grip off, “it’s inevitable, we’ve been walking towards a destined finish line from the beginning, let’s just call it quits a little earlier.”

“no... you can't do this, you can't do this to me,” he vulnerably uttered, his body noticeably trembling as a tear dropped onto the back of your hand as he reached over to touch you, hoping it'll mend whatever hatred you had towards him, “you.. we promised,” his voice shaking.

“I’m sorry Gojo,” you dodged his grasp, “guess promises are only good if you can keep them, and I can’t.”

Days of him begging at the forefront of your door, crying as he asked for an explanation, his missed texts and calls that would go straight to voicemail, to Suguru stepping in to ask what the hell was going on… all leading you to cut off every aspect of Gojo Satoru out of your life, except Shoko.

After two years of dating, at the ripe age of 20, you experienced your first heartbreak with Gojo Satoru, marking the end of the final chapter of your love story with him. 

To you, he’ll be the greatest warmth you’ll ever experience. 

To him, you’ll be the heartless bitch that left him cold.

—-

“Hmm,” looking at your empty notifications, “guess she’s a little busy right now…” you hummed. Despite your outwardly calm demeanor and the stillness of the serene summer night, juxtaposed was your mind with wandering thoughts that wrecked havoc in your head. 

Shoko would update you occasionally about him, not going too far into details. You knew he was successful in his craft, excelling in it as he ranked 11th in Forbes 30 under 30 list, losing the tenth spot barely to a Zenin. It would be a lie if you weren’t curious about him, your mind wandering and weak during the quietest of nights, making a burner account to stalk his socials, only to immediately regret the moment you see photos and stories that presumably show that he’s in a relationship — with a gorgeous one in fact.

You’ve briefly heard of his dating history, hearing it from Shoko directly, as it mindlessly slipped through her tongue as she complained that he’s broken up with another girl. 

Throughout the years, you’ve concluded maybe this was your punishment for leaving him. Damnation to feel stuck in the same perpetual regret of hurting his heart, of choosing to look at your fears instead of maybe trusting in him. 

But, at least he looked happy. and you clung onto that reserve.

Maybe it was for the best that things happened this way  —

Your ears perked up as you heard the tapping of shoes coming towards you, your stomach suddenly dropping to the floor. 

“Were you planning on avoiding me the whole night?” 

You were sure, there was no denying that was his voice. 

Yes, it was a bit deeper from when you last heard it. The decibel of his voice is now infused with power and confidence, yet still with the underlying tone of softness from what you remembered. 

“Ah, sorry… how rude of me,” you mumbled, the pounding of your heart beating through your ribcage. You quickly placed an arm over your chest, a hand over your heart, doing anything to muffle the harsh pulsing, terrified that he was going to hear, “it’s been a while Gojo,” you offered him a light smile, “I’m sorry, but if you’ll excuse me Ieiri is waiting for me,” you tried excusing yourself only to be met with his stance unchanging, unmoving. 

You felt his eyes pierce into your skull, “Gojo?… ah that’s right,” his voice guarded as he looked over in another direction, his face pointing specifically elsewhere, the moonlight highlighting his perfect features.

“I think she’s pretty busy, don’t you think?” he shrugged.

Dammit she was your ride home. Guess coffee is on her for the next week. 

“Oh sorry,” you muttered under your breath.

Grinning as he licked his lips, “You’re awfully saying sorry a lot over nothing,” Gojo chuckled, “guess old habits die hard,” his last words spewed with a hint of bitterness as he clenched his jaws. 

Only to relax seconds later, placing his drink on the railing, softly grunting as he pulled off his jacket, and placed it over your shoulders, “It’s cold, don’t want you getting sick now,” the smell of his cologne filled up your lungs, hypnotizing your senses — a bit strong but nonetheless intoxicating.

You couldn’t help but feel guilty for feeling a sense of security from the weight of his heated jacket, and in response, you started to immediately pick at your thumbs. 

“It’s okay!” You tried to object, trying to take it off only to be met with a stern yet gentleness of his voice, his large hand stopping you, now calloused and thick yet the warmth of his palm brushing against your smaller one felt nostalgic and sinful, as your eyes immediately noticed a gold sparkle on his ring finger, “it’s fine. my body runs hot, remember?” 

“T-thank you,” you muttered, the harsh beatings of your heart quickly making your cheeks feel hot. 

A ring? you wondered.  

“So, what made you come today?” Gojo huffed as he looked off into the distance.

“Had no excuse not to come.”

“I see,” his voice deep, taking the last swig of his drink, deeply inhaling to release a long breath, “It’s good to see you though.”

“Yea, me too,” you quietly responded, the awkwardness of the conversation eating at your bones, the tightness of your stomach knotting increasingly more.

Laughing as he turned around, his long legs crossed, showing a bit of his socks peeking out of his slacks as his dress shoes reflected the moon's shine. Surely, they were expensive, probably equaled to a month of your rent on his feet. With his arms crossing his chest, leaning against the railing, the quiet winds brushing against his soft hair, lightly masking his cerulean eyes as he faced you, “Liar, you were always good at that.”

Taking you off guard, your eyes immediately connecting with his, your breath stopping as if a sudden load was pushed onto your chest, you felt a wave of sadness rush over you as you ventured into his empty eyes. 

Since when did he have that ring? 

Did he find someone at Paris? Shoko told me — no, there’s no way he found someone so soon.

Or maybe he’s trying to settle down —

“Are you happy?” His question brought you back into reality.

“What?” you whispered.

“I don’t think I’ve asked a hard question,” he responded, his voice now harsh and impatient, “I asked if you were happy.”

Your finger pricks at your thumb, “I guess so…”

Rolling his tongue against his teeth, his finger playing with his ring.   

Taking no regard for catering to your comfort, he jeered, “Why’d you do it?”

“What are you talking —” you stammered.

“You know damn well what I’m referring to,” Gojo spat. 

“Excuse me,” You muttered, your eyes refusing to disconnect despite your whole body fighting against it.

“I- I got to go, Ieiri is waiting —”

“No, you already used that excuse,” pulling you in by your wrist, immediately caging you in between his arms, with you now leaning against the railing, your eyes level to his broad chest — has he always been this big?

“Answer me, at least you can have the courtesy of honestly telling me why you left me like that eight years ago.”

“I don't remember,” you stated with eyes threatening to spill.

“Liar,” his body leaning down, the hurt in eyes even more apparent than before, “you’re a fucking liar,” Gojo spewed with no resolve to withhold a solid tear from falling, his face now dangerously close — lips even more threatening to touch.

All you wanted to do was say sorry, to cup his face and kiss his tears, to say it was a mistake that you’ve never intended to let him go — you selfishly tortured him by continuously keeping him in your heart without giving him a chance to prove you wrong. 

“I’m so sorry,” was all you could respond.

“Did you not trust me?” Hurt was apparent in his voice, “Was I that untrustworthy for you to just leave like that and just disappear for eight years?”

“No, no… it’s not like that,” you tried comforting, unknowingly placing your hands on his chest, “it was never like that.”

"then tell me why," he forced out through gritted teeth while furrowing his brows.

"I just thought it was for the best," you quietly whispered.

"you thought it would be for the best?" Gojo scoffed, "And how the hell did you come to a conclusion to just leave like that?"

" 'm sorry, Gojo... I - I truly am," you pleaded while clenching his shirt.

"You must've really enjoyed watching me beg huh," Gojo challenged, "absolutely thrived knowing this was all for my own good, right?" Gojo spat out his anger.

"It wasn't like that, i'm so sorry, I was hurting —"

“Stop fucking apologizing! you don't get to do that," His voice shattered the serene night. Chest heaving as he clenched onto the stone railing, "I didn’t go through shit these past eight years just to hear your selfish sorry's,” he stated with gritted teeth, as he threateningly moved even closer, “d-did you even love me?” 

“Yes, of course!” You immediately cupped his face, finally letting go of the years you craved his touch, your heart shattering as you felt him melt into your wicked hands.

“Then kiss me,” he suddenly whispered, the slight scent of alcohol mixed in with cologne altering your judgment.

“Y-your drunk, Gojo,” you pleaded, immediately letting go of his face as you tried to push him off.

His voice elevated, "Why not?" Gojo growled, "Like you said, it's not like you left because you didn't love me. Or are you lying about that too?"

“don’t make this hard, we — I can’t do this with you anymore,” guilt running through your veins as the image of his ring blared loudly in your head.

You couldn’t do this to another girl, he wasn’t yours anymore… 

“stop the bullshit,” Gojo growled before his lips slammed into yours, his large hands cupping your face, leaving you no room to run away. his tongue forced its way into your mouth, teeth painfully clashing yet you didn’t mind. because against your resolve, your arms immediately wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to taste the sweetness of his saliva and feel the warmth of his tongue.

The groan of his voice vibrated against your lips, as his clothed hip bucked into your pelvis, his lips trailing down from yours to your neck, tongue sloppily trailing down with it as his hands wandered down to hold your hips.

“Tell me you missed me,” he moaned out as you gripped the ends of his hair,  his tongue teasing down your sweet spots, pecking kisses as he inhaled your scent.

“Say you loved me, I don't care anymore if it’s a lie,” your ex now pleaded, his hot breath heating your cheeks.

“… I love you,” you confessed.

Lowly laughing like a maniac, staring deep into your wanting eyes, the man whispered back, “aren't you fucking heartless.”

...

You don’t recall how you made it into the hotel room. In a moment your lips crashed with his on the balcony, and only a second later you found yourself with his large hand securely wrapped around yours, silently waiting for the elevator to bing on the twentieth floor as your ex-boyfriend led you into his hotel room.

Now, currently, you’re pressed against the wall, shoes thrown aside groaning with your hands tangled in his soft hair, as he hurriedly stripped you out of your dress, lips hungrily moving against each other as he growled into the kiss.

Though its been years, his touch never faltered from remembering your body — immediately tracing over your sweet spots that he’s located in your early twenties, now with more experience and strength he dove deeper in.

“Fuck, missed these beauties,” he groaned as he cupped your breasts, his thumb playing with your hardened nipples as he quickly released the back strap of your bra, promptly latching his lips onto your swollen ones again right before you released a moan.

Your body had a mind of its own. Fallen into sin, your hands unbuttoned his shirt, quickly revealing his toned, muscular build as your hands ran against his pecs. You felt his stomach flex as you started to unbuckle his belt and zip down his pants, his lips hungrily chasing after yours as he caressed your body, hands slipping down further into your inner thigh, his index starting to play with your swollen clit — his fingers have always been so pretty, especially with his ring

“G-gojo stop!” Your eyes immediately shoot open.

“What,” annoyed, the man hissed, looking into your eyes with his pupils dilated, hair absolutely disheveled, until moments later his lips are impatiently back onto yours again. 

“We.. we can’t,” you cried out as you melted in his touch, “y-your ring,” you gasped out, suffocating as he stripped you of oxygen.

“Ring?” he stopped for a brief moment, chuckling as he brought up his finger, “you worried about this?” he teased.

Intoxicated in his touch, you were willing to throw away your pride and dignity just for one night — one night can’t hurt, right? So you take the ounce of courage you had left, placing a tender kiss on his lips as a sign of surrender as you gently cupped his face, “take off your ring,” you whispered as you guilty looked away.

Chasing after your kiss, pushing you further into the room as you yelped at his force, your arms entangled around his neck and fingers around his hair as you tried to stabilize yourself, “I promise you it’s nothing, sweetheart,” he coaxed with his sharp canines flashing through his wickedly handsome smile. 

And running his lips against your chest, leaving small denture marks on your skin that forced moans out of you, with his pants now pooled at his ankles before shimming them off, his cock fully erect, unapologetically twitching in his briefs.

“For you, I guess,” Gojo hummed as he watched the thin line of spit that connected you both dissipate away, existing as a sign of proof of the situationship he currently had with you. 

Taking his ring off, he set it down near the bedside table, "there it's gone."

At least for this night, he was yours. 

You’ll repent for your sins, and receive any punishment the gods had to give you tomorrow, but today, you chose him.

And right now, you also chose to kneel in between his thighs, hooking your finger under his waistband to pull his briefs off. Satoru immediately lifted his hips to help you while releasing a sultry groan as he felt the cold air elope his sensitive tip. 

Was he always this thick? You remembered his cock being pretty, but also what the fuck were those two veins running down his shaft? And was he always this… groomed? 

“Are you just gonna stare at it… or do I need to use your mouth to get some action?” Satoru impatiently asked with his cock twitching, his finger brushing against your heated cheeks as he palmed his member.

“It’s just been awhile,” you murmured, licking your lips before you opened your mouth to have him enter.

“Fuck, " Satoru shuddered as the base of your tongue brushed against his frenulum.

"i must be dreaming,” Gojo murmured under his breath, your head rising up as you released his cock with pop! With your hot tongue swirling against his head, there was no chance for Satoru to stay strong. and you enjoyed every second of seeing him slowly unravel in your power.

“j-just like that,” he ordered while placing his hand on top of your head, guiding your momentum. 

His precum tasted salty but pleasant. Hell, he wasn’t even close to the other men you’ve been with, incomparable starting with the size of their dicks to his.

Hallowing your cheeks and expanding your throat to take in his shaft, with your hands gently playing with his balls, you felt his cock hit the back of your throat the moment you saw his head fling backwards, gasping as he pushed down his spit down his dry throat.

“You like that?” Gojo hissed as he bucked his hips into your warm crevice, “you missed my cock, angel?”

You honestly agreed, tears staining your vision with his length stuffed into your orifice, only to get a spiteful laugh in return, “well, guess that makes two of us,” he huffed while crowning over your body, pushing himself deeper into you, his stomach hitching as he groaned out your name.  

“Fuck this shit,” he moaned, as he urgently pulled himself out of your mouth, sacrificing his impeding release for abstinence. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” he gasped when your thumbs swirled around his pulsing head, “you always do,” he purred as he nibbled on your lower lip, promptly pulling you onto his lap, one hand straddling your waist while the other mounded your ass.

And looking up at you, with his blue eyes now darkened in full blown lust, his hot breath sending chills down your spine, “tell me what you want? I’ll give you anything.”

“Y-you,” you shamefully confessed, gasping as his cock grazed against your sensitive folds, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you started to grind against his length, “I want you inside me again, Satoru” you whispered into his ear, lightly moaning out his name.

“Shit,” Satoru croaked, pulling himself down as he gently released you to lay on the bed, “I dont have a condom,” he confessed as he gently kissed your cheeks, “ you gonna be okay without it?” he asked.

“Mhm, j-just hurry… please,” you murmured. 

“Good girl, now come here,” he coaxed as he placed a soft pillow under your head. 

Taking a brief moment to observe your face, reading any sign of forced emotion that you might try to hide, only to ease himself into the kiss when he feels you impatiently desiring his touch, “relax, baby,” he cooed as his kisses traveled southward.

Placing each delicate kiss on your body as his soft hair trailed behind, lightly tickling you as your thighs gently caged his waists into you, “you know they wanted me to thank you,” Gojo breathed out as he split your thighs open, settling himself in between your legs.

“W-who?” you whimpered as his calloused hands massaged your muscles, his soft lips easing out the tension boiling in your core while your hands immediately went straight to grip his hair.

Lips drawing closer, closer and closer until his breath knocked against the frame of your dripping cunt.

“God you’re so fucking wet,” blowing air onto your sensitive nerves, looking up to watch your body shiver at his power as he slid his finger down your folds, pushing in one finger, two, and eventually three into your tight hole as he watched you stretch, your viscous juice soon dripping down his forearm.

“They wanted me to thank you for how good I eat pussy now,” Gojo smirked before he took a swipe of his tongue against your womanhood, spreading out your cunt as he purposefully flicked his tongue against your clit, lightly sucking on the bud thereafter.

… 

How many times as it been, you wondered? More than once or twice, maybe four… five — you moaned out when you felt your legs hitching up to his shoulders, his cock hitting just at the right spots he remembered from years ago. 

“Angel,” Gojo huffed as sweat dripped down his temple, grunting as he felt your tight walls fluttering against his length at the call of his sweet pet name, “you have that much leisure to be thinking about something else when I’m fucking you?” 

Kissing your ankles, his pelvis showing you no mercy as his wet skin slapped against your ass, the sound and sultry smell of hot sex filtrating your room, “still so fucking tight,” Satoru grunted as he pushed his body onto you, your legs hooking against his shoulders, his strong arms holding you from under.

“G-gojo!” you rasped out, barely audible and inable to breathe from his heavy weight and humidity of the room, “it’s too deep! Slow down!”

Growling into your ear, his teeth nibbling against your earlobe, his hot breath stinging your face as he scoffed at your choice to call him so mundanely.

“you gonna be so impersonable,” his thrust going deeper, harder into you, “when I’m so deepily inside you?”

“Ngh,” gasping, “it’s too much,” you sobbed with his face planted into your neck, and his ass clenching with every push he drove into your gushy walls that still wrapped so perfectly around his — just like how he’s last felt you around him, just like how he’s molded your insides just for himself.

“You let anyone else fuck you?” He suddenly hissed, panting as he tried to catch his breath, the sweat on his back making it difficult for you to hold onto him, “you let anyone else see this side of you?”

“It’s too much —” you pleaded, avoiding his question.

“Answer me,” he lowly ordered.

Unable to withstand his power, absolutely willing to fold for him and his desires, you fastidiously nodded, “only a couple,” you shyly confessed.

"how many," he growled, disappointed in your answer, "how many fucked this."

"o-one or two, ngh I-I don't remember," you panted.

“One or two, you say,” he cooed as he pulsed his cock swiftly into you in rhythmic motions, satisfied seeing his length disappear inside you. his pace driving you to the brink of insanity as your lower belly started to fire up again as he knowingly pressed his palm down on your stomach.

“Then I gotta fuck you twice more to force out all memory you have of those stupid fucks,” grunting as he cupped your face to look at him, lips swollen with his skin marked by your nails, hips unapologetically thrusting into you as he watched you unravel in his lead, “because this pussy’s always been mine.”

Seven.

He’s definitely made you cum seven times. you remembered the count just before he groaned out your name, his thrusts sloppy and strained, gasping as he pulled you tighter into his embrace, face caved into your neck as he finally released his thick loads into your abused walls, sobbing out cursed moans as you held him, expending out every last ounce of energy you had for him in mere four words,

“I’ve always loved you,” you whispered before completely passing out. 

You failed to notice a tear fall from his eyes drop to your face. He hoped that it’ll stain you, wished it would reach all the way through to your heart to burn you. But he couldn't, so instead he carefully wiped it away as he gently kissed your face — inch by inch of your canvas before he chose to face you again.

“you’re so heartless,” Gojo chuckled as he pulled you in for a tight hug, straight into his chest as he laid beside you, refusing to pull out and have his cum spill onto the sheets — a feat he’s never dared to do with anyone else, he’s always fucked protected.

“what am I going to do with you," he breathed out.

"even with all this time, I’m still so weak for you,” he quietly confessed, reaching over to the side, reaching for his ring to put on the empty finger, before he too fell into the abyss of another dimension with you in his arms. 

—-

Lowly groaning as you opened your eyes, your body felt oddly heavy and aching, but yet warm and safe despite feeling on the absolutely verge of possibly snapping in half and breaking with any force.

Blinking a couple times before you started to register the room, you felt a slight huff next to your ear and the tightening around your waist as your back leaned against something hard.

Gojo Satoru, in all of his glory, was sleeping so soundly next you.

Carefully turning around to face him, you observed his features as you ran your fingers against his skin.

His lashes were still so long and soft, you giggled when Gojo twitched his nose at your touch.

His cheeks were still so smooth, without a spec of a blemish, but you can see the little bags under his eyes and the small creases on his skin. he’s probably tired from traveling.

Your finger travels down to his chiseled jaw, and defined collar bones, examining the light scratch marks on his pale skin, and the bruising of his nipple — wait… his lips are chapped and swollen, and his cock… oh god, his cock was brushing against your stomach — hard and pulsing. 

Immediately gasping, you felt the blood in your body drain at the revelation that you’ve fucked your ex — no, you fucked your ex of eight years, that you were still crazily hung up over that most likely had a girlfriend waiting for him to respond back to.  

Before you could think, your adrenaline pressed forward to act before your mind, immediately unlocking his hands from your naked waists, standing up too quickly only to stumble from your trembling legs. You felt something drip down your thighs — white viscous slowly running down your legs, your face heating up at the memory of last night. 

“I- I need to leave,” you whispered, quickly gathering your discarded clothes and undergarments as you rushed to the restroom, forcing down your whimpers as your sensitive cunt brushed against your thighs with every step you took.

“I can’t be here, t-this was a mistake,” you stammered while putting on your dress, quickly stuffing your used panties into your purse.

You looked like a mess, but it didn’t matter because you needed to get the hell out of there before he woke up, but somehow your feet didn’t move in the direction you wanted them to — out the door — but instead towards him unknowingly sleeping.

And quietly sitting against the edge of the bed, carefully pushing away the edges of his bangs that covered his handsome face, you decided to take a minute to absorb the last images of what you’ll have of him. And there you decided to let a tear or two drop from your eyes as you said your last goodbyes, gently kissing his lips before you made your way out the door, whispering, once again,

“I’m sorry…”

—- 

It’s been close to an hour since your walk of shame out the door. Since then you quickly checked out of your room and made your way out of the hotel. 

You immediately called for a taxi to get home, groaning as you were hit with the realities of your mistakes last night.

Treading up the stairs your legs quivered with every move. It's been a while since you've been fucked that hard, nor even had a partner that lasted so long.

You needed to text Shoko, you prayed that she didn’t blow through your notifications when you suddenly went missing last night. Sighing, you absentmindedly tried to find your phone in your bag as you punched in your door keys.

You started to think, maybe the whole fucking universe was now against you, for your sins, because your phone wasn’t in your purse.

You tried to retrace your steps to where you’d last used it as you made yourself over to your bed, stripping off your clothes as you walked over to the shower.

And to your last memory, you texted Ieiri out in the balcony… and then,

“Shit,” you hissed, remembering how your bag was tossed to the side when you were being feverishly stripped of your clothes, “it’s probably under his bed or something.”

“I hope no one calls… or tries to contact me until he leaves his room,” you groaned as the hot water massaged your tense shoulders while your fingers ran down your body.

Washing every crevice as you also tried to erase away the memory you had with him, you forced yourself to retract your tears. This was your punishment you repeated, this was the outcome of your selfishness. You lathered yourself in soap, trying to scrub away the pent-up guilt until you noticed something flash under the light.

You never wore your jewelry into the shower, you’ve always had a habit to take them off to not tarnish. 

But there was a golden ring, a ring that fits a little loosely on your promise finger.

Unable to understand why, all that circled through your mind was to go back.

Quickly washing off, throwing on any pair of clothes before running to your door, you could feel your anxious heart beating loudly in your chest as your ears started to feel plugged from the tension. And just when you’re about to open your door, you hear a buzz that silenced every chaos around you.

Looking through the peep hole, you felt faint, your heart entirely about to burst — is this reality or am i still dreaming?

“It’s me,” you heard his calm voice.

Your hands trembled as you slowly opened up the door, your eyes taking a moment to quickly scan his body — donning the same clothes as yesterday with the top buttons of his white shirt undone and ends stuffed into his slacks, his hair lightly messy and eyes a little sunken.

“How’d you get here?” you gasped with your ringed hand clenched, hidden behind your back, while the other pricked at your thumb.

“You left your phone in my room, and I found it because Ieiri was blowing up your phone," Satoru calmly stated as he handed over your phone, "so I asked where you lived to drop it off.”

“She didn’t say anything?��� you warily asked

“Well, she did ask about us."

“And… did she threaten you or anything?”

“No, why would she? But,” stretching out his arms as he released groan, “I told her we fucked,” he boyishly smiled. 

Afraid to confront your messy rendezvous with him, you nervously bit your lips, and you avoided his gaze. Noticing your tendencies, you felt his hand cup your face to meet his while his thumb gently soothed your aching lip, "hey," he whispered, "don't do that."

And stepping closer to you, the mild fragrance of his shampoo dancing in your nostrils, “Did you see it?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you acknowledged, “I saw it just now while showering,” you looked into his eyes to seek an answer, tears starting to cloud your vision.

“You know, I’m not the same anymore,” he confessed, “I have power, I’m strong, and I’m able to do things now,” pressing a kiss onto your forehead, “but the only thing that stayed the same about me," chuckling as he shook his head — as if he couldn't even believe it himself.

"is that I didn’t change my number since we’ve broken up,” he stated before taking a step into your apartment, the click of his shoes hitting the tile floor echoing throughout the hallway, “I just hoped maybe one day you’ll call.”

"why?" you honestly questioned, unable to understand why he would choose to do that.

"I don't know," Satoru shrugged while pulling away, "guess I really tried to subconsciously manifest the we were fated to be bullshit that I preached."

“But that girl,” you quietly muttered while you unknowingly pouted when you saw his arms cross against his chest, the tightness of his sleeves about to burst from his muscles bulging.

“Girl… what girl?” Your comment took him aback.

“The one you were in Paris with,” your face feeling hot, embarrassed that you outed yourself for stalking him.

“You stalking me?” He chuckled while leaning against the wall, "it's not what you think," Gojo sighed as he pushed back his hair, "that girl, it was Suguru.”

Raising an eyebrow as he examined your expression, sighing as he saw the unbelief in your eyes, “Here look,” he commented while pulling out his phone to show you pictures, “we went for his art exhibition or some shit because his girl couldn’t make it with him.”

“B-but you came late to the reunion.”

“Yea, because I wasn't going to pull up looking mid when I needed to make you regret ever dumping me,” he joked while pinching your cheeks, "I didn't have plans on attending until that jerk sent me a photo of you," he shamelessly confessed.

“You’re stupid,” you grasped his hand to check his finger — ringless.

“But it was worth it, no? Got you to indirectly confess,” emphasizing his last few words, “that maybe you still love me."

"Whatever," you mumbled, "I said I loved you."

"fine by me," Satoru accepted, " but the fact is that you still think I’m hot, no? Or maybe you just missed my cock? ”

“You’re crazy,” you stated while wiping your tears.

“Yea, I know,” his gaze softens as he sees you playing with his fingers, your small ones wrapped around his.

“and this ring is too big for me,” you cried as you melted in his touch, his right thumb gently rubbing against your cheeks.

“That too, I know,” he smiled stepping closer into your house, and slowly closing the door behind him, “we’ll get another one together soon, only if you'll let me.”

"I'd like that," you whispered.

“I just couldn’t get it for us when you heartlessly broke up with me eight years ago," Satoru confessed while brushing the tip of his nose against yours.

“I’m so sorry Satoru,” you snuggled your face into his strong chest, his arms tightly wrapped around you, cooing as he steadied your breaths, “Shhh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay.”

“I’ve hurt you, I’m the one that caused all this,” you heaved as he pressed light kisses all over your face.

“Through everything,” kissing your swollen eyes, taking his time to savor your touch as his lips traveled their way back to its home, briefly kissing your ringed finger as he looked into your eyes. 

And sealing his final destination, he whispered before locking his lips with yours once more,

“I’ll always find you even if you run away because you’ll always be mine.”

author's comment: sheesh, I didn't expect this to get this long... but here it is! I wanted to write the typical exes-to-lovers trope, but I was stuck on the quote with Satoru teasing how his past partners wanted to thank the reader for teaching him how to eat pussy... and here we are over 9k words later.... oh wells

again, i hope you enjoyed it!!

p.s. i might just have one exes to lovers in the drafts for geto, as well.... hahahahaha but you didn't hear that from me, nope (,:

[espinosaurusrexex]

Bad Boys Don't Buy Flowers

CEO!BuckyBarnes x Female!Florist!Reader AU

read Steve's story here

summary: Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...

a/n: I should be working instead of writing long ass billionaire love stores, but here we are: you and me both... happy it happened and already regretting the tasks we neglected because of it (please enjoy this wholesome piece of imagination - I know it's long, but I hope you’ll give it a try nonetheless)

word count: 16.4k 😬

warnings: play boy behavior/talk, a reader that knows what she wants, Bucky falls first (and hard 🤭), mentions of war, injuries, and death (all not applying to Bucky for once), just so much fluff, questioning life choices (angst with happy ending!), smut (this is freaking love making okay?!?!? praise and confessions, dry humping, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, touch starved Bucky - in a way…, sensual and beautiful, protected p in v, cock warming, and aftercare) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

"Did you place the order?" Bucky leaned back in Steve's office chair and watched as his friend paced the space with a hand in his pocket. 

Steve was grinning like an idiot when the answer on the other side satisfied him and Bucky felt a tiny little spark in his chest at the sight. He'd watched his best friend go through life with a default tension in his shoulders for what seemed like forever. All until he found Bambi - a sweet and incredibly clumsy woman who was formerly his maid. But they found each other and Steve had been a happier man ever since.

Bucky was happy for him, too. He was a lot more fun to be around ever since, but it did remind him that Bucky himself had yet to find the one that would make his heart beat faster. 

It was a ridiculous idea, of course. Bucky was never the one for relationships or long-term commitment in the romantic department. To be honest, he wasn't even sure he was capable of love - not that he needed it, anyway. He had no problem with having a new plaything every other night. It was fun and kept him on his toes. 

"Perfect. Okay. Thanks, Sharon." Bucky sat up straighter in the chair. "Yeah, next Friday. See you later."

Steve sighed as he slumped on the sofa across the room. He watched the ceiling, looking like a love-drunk schoolboy, even though he tried so hard to conceal it. Bucky knew him too well.

"Dinner is booked.”

“You’re really doing it huh?"

“Yup." There was no doubt in Steve’s answer, but rather a special kind of excitement Bucky rarely felt.

The brunette just nodded as he looked to the ground, the chair swaying as he pushed his knees from one side to the other. 

Steve just grinned in response. "So when are you gonna let me help you find the one?"

Bucky perked up, amusement seeping through his gaze when he answered his best friend. ”Me? No no. I’m fine."

Steve shrugged. ”You know, that’s exactly what I said about a year ago."

"No offense, Stevie, but you and I were in vastly different sex universes back then. I’m getting laid - I’m aaaaall good." He leaned back with a smug grin and Steve just frowned in response. "You can be as happy as you want but don’t start trying to get everyone on the girlfriend train. That’s a Rogers and Wilson thing. I don’t need that type of commitment."

Steve remained silent as he watched Bucky stand up and head for the door, a thoughtful look on his face when his friend passed him. 

“Look, I’m happy for you, truly. I just don’t see myself in that type of life.” Bucky’s hand squeezed Steve’s shoulder just as the blonde cocked his head to the side. 

“Never?”

Bucky winked at him. “You know I like to live in the present. But speaking of the future... You’re still up for tomorrow night, right?”

“Tomorrow night?"

"Ironbar."

Steve’s eyes widened. ”Shit. No, I promised Bambi we'd-" Steve stopped when he saw Bucky's eyebrows raise in amusement. “...next time."

Bucky sighed in defeat. "Tell her to leave some Steve time for the rest of us, will ya?" And with a laugh of Steve’s, he shut the office door, walked past Sharon’s desk, then Natasha’s, and then into his own office.

❁ ❁ ❁

The clock hand barely struck 8am when another set of files hit Bucky’s desk. 

Bucky huffed as he watched Natasha stand before him with an amused smile, her hands on her hips that were hugged by a tight pencil skirt. “Looking for something, Boss?”

“No...”

“Something like... the invitation to that business dinner on Thursday?” She mused and carefully pulled a piece of paper from the stack between them. 

Bucky snatched it with a glare. “It would be much more helpful if you sorted this chaos rather than stand here and be a smartass.” He looked at the invite, the familiar company logo printed in the top right corner. “And why are people even sending paper invites anymore? We’re a security firm,” he sat the paper down and tapped on it with his index finger, “just shows how desperately they need consulting.” 

“Don’t blame me for it.” Nat threw her hands in the air. “And stop complaining. I know you’re the cyber guy but a couple papers shouldn’t faze you. I’ve got more important things to do that don’t particularly fall in your area of expertise.” She turned to leave but Bucky stopped her before her heels could reach the threshold. 

“Are you saying your job is harder than mine?” Bucky watched the mess on his desk, then the computer screen with his calendar and the impending meeting with those jackasses from Hydra Enterprises. There was no way sorting a couple of papers could be worse than Alexander Pierce and his nephew Brock Rumlow. One of them barely knew how to send an E-mail and the other kept subtly asking if it was legal to install cameras in the lady’s room. 

“If you’re referring to your inability to sort a couple files, then yes, I assume you wouldn’t last a day with my tasks.” 

“Now that’s bullshit.”

“Is it now?” She raised her left eyebrow with a half-smirk. “I want to see you deal with idiots when scheduling appointments and keeping everyone’s day structured while also organizing the annual fundraiser.”

Bucky huffed, leaning back and crossing his arms before his chest. He averted his eyes from his assistant and the stupid pile of paperwork in front of him. He really did not want to sort through all of that. 

“Call me old fashioned but I believe assistants should sort files.” He shrugged, knowing Natasha wouldn’t let him off that easily. They had been working together for years, he respected her as much as his other friends. And presenting the fierce redhead with a challenge to get out of some annoying tasks was something he would gladly do. 

“I’ll tell you what. I will sort your papers in my assistant duties.” She made a mockery curtsy - as much as her skirt allowed - and then lifted her finger before the smile could spread on Bucky’s face. “If... you plan the charity event.”

Bucky was shocked. He didn’t expect her to play dirty - well to be fair, it wouldn’t be Nat if she weren’t teasing a little bit - but still. “You think you can handle that, boss?” 

Bucky closed his mouth and eyed her suspiciously. It couldn’t be that hard to do. And certainly would be a nice distraction from the impending meeting of doom as well as the following consulting sessions. He let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling. 

Was he really going to trade some papers for a whole Gala? That paperwork really sucked. He loved how easily he could wash through files on his computer. Sadly, his programs didn’t help much in the analog part of the job. 

“Are you backing down, Barnes?” Nat’s teasing voice rang through to him and he snapped back into his attitude. 

“Never.” He stood up, fixed his suit, and then reached his hand toward her. Natasha shook it with an evil smirk. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Romanoff.”

And with that, she took the papers from Bucky’s desk and carried them out of his office with a triumphant smile. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It wasn’t long before Bucky regretted his decision. 

What had he been thinking? A Fundraiser... a fucking fundraiser. Bucky couldn’t care less about them. 

Okay, that wasn’t true. He deemed charity to be a very important part of society... and economy. There were times in his life when he was close to needing their help as well. And Bucky swore he’d never let that aspect of his story slip from his mind ever. Still, it didn’t prevent him from living lavishly and making use of the things he had access to now. 

Usually, the organization of the charity gala was stuck on Nat and Sharon. Mainly because they had always done an amazing job. The tabloids had only positive things to write about it and always pushed the number before Christmas even higher. Which urged Bucky even more to do just as good of a job this year. 

There was just one problem. 

He had no idea how to organize events this size. Bucky could program a software from scratch, hack into classified state files on a bad day. Hell, he could track every person’s phone in New York in his sleep. But he never expected to be overwhelmed by a couple invites and color palettes. 

Though as little as he knew about his new task, he liked a challenge, and he would most certainly not give Natasha the satisfaction of asking her for a checklist. 

So, the internet had to do for now. He’d found a blog by a highly motivated suburban mom, that led with step-by-step instructions on how to plan the perfect event. It might not have been on the scale of what Bucky had to do, but considering his lack of knowledge on the topic, he figured this would do until Natasha snatched the task away from him again. 

The first thing on the list was to find a date and venue. But since the gala of Shield Protection Services was always held at the same venue, Bucky figured they had booked it indefinitely for the event. 

Next was to find the perfect florist that ‘is able to put your vision into extravagant floral arrangements’. Yeah... that was another problem. 

Bucky didn’t buy flowers. The only women he deemed important enough in his life to get them were his sister and his mother. And well, both of them had passed away. So, picking the right flowers hadn’t been a problem until now. His mother and sister were always enchanted by the bouquets they received when Bucky was younger. He’d steal them from their neighbor‘s garden. But since he could grow a beard, Bucky hadn’t even touched flowers anymore.

Well, that had to change now. 

Bucky stepped into the elevator just to be greeted by big round eyes and an even wider smile. “Paying Steve a visit?” Bucky teased with a half smile as he hugged Bambi and then faced the doors. 

“I’m actually meeting Natasha for lunch,” she shifted from one foot to the other, “I didn’t realize she was already at the restaurant... so that’s where I’m headed now.”

Bucky chuckled at her slight awkwardness. But it wouldn’t be Bambi if she wouldn’t miss such a detail. 

“Do you need a ride? My driver’s waiting for me anyway.”

“Tha- yes that would be nice, thank you.”

Bucky just nodded and gestured for her to lead the way when they reached the ground floor. 

“Where are you going?” Bambi asked as he stared out the window of the car. They had told the driver where they needed to go. And Since Bucky had no particular destination in mind, it worked out well. 

“I’m on the hunt for the perfect flower shop to cater to my vision of our charity event.” He chuckled and shook his head at his own words. He’s never thought he’d say this.  

Her eyes peered at him with intrigue, a glimmer washing over them when she asked: “Are you taking suggestions?”

Bucky sat up straighter now. “Uh, yes. Gladly.” This was easier than he thought. 

“There is this wonderful shop in Brooklyn. It’s called AsGarden on 18th Avenue. You can’t miss it, it’s like a breath of fresh air between all those ugly beige buildings. The woman owning it has great taste, she managed to make the perfect bouquet for me without ever seeing me.” She turned forward, a little flustered, “Steve gets me flowers from there sometimes, they’re my favorite.”

“Did you hear that, Stan?” A victorious smile spread on Bucky’s face as he squeezed Bambi’s shoulder. “Next stop is Brooklyn.”

“Alright, Sir.”

“You don’t know how much easier you just made my life.” Bucky leaned forward and kissed her cheek before the car came to a stop and he bid her goodbye. 

“I’m glad I could help.” She waved back and then headed into the restaurant. 

Maybe the event wasn’t so difficult after all, Bucky thought as he leaned back in his seat, his legs spreading in satisfaction.

❁ ❁ ❁

The cool air snook through your shop when the familiar bell of a customer chimed above the door. You’d seen many people frequent your shop daily. Women, men, teenagers, elderly. All came from different backgrounds and varying stories in their repertoire. Your store was in the heart of Brooklyn - a bunch of people mixed in this town. And you’d made it your mission to find the perfect flower arrangement for each and every one of them. 

The man who had set off your little bell this afternoon was different though. A perfectly tailored coat adorned his broad shoulders. The way his hands were tucked in his pockets revealed the expensive-looking suit beneath as well as the toned chest that hid beneath the button-up in vain. His presence oozed money as he sashayed through your shop, carefully grazing delicate pedals with the aura he brought in. 

He seemed to own the world, but something about him just didn’t fit between the colorful flowers surrounding him. If you didn’t know any better, he looked a little lost, eyes glassy as they swayed through the sea of colors and shapes soaking in fresh water. 

“Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you?”

He ripped around, fixed his posture, and approached the cash desk. When his eyes landed on you, he froze. Just for a second, however, and then his jaw snapped into a handsome smile as he leaned forward. 

“I sure hope so.” His white teeth flashed between his lips before his tongue stroked over them. It was capturing. “This flower shop has been recommended to me. You wouldn’t happen to be the owner?”

“Well actually, I am,” you smiled hiding the pride swelling in your chest from the comment.

“Great. What is your capacity when it comes to event arrangements?”

“That depends...” You smiled as the handsome stranger raised his eyebrows in intrigue. “I reckon we have vastly different understandings of what is small and... big.” Your eyes wandered over his expensive coat again. The innuendo was accidental, really, but he seemed to be amused nevertheless. 

“My company is hosting its annual charity event in November... at The Glasshouse.”

“So just as I suspected...” You nodded and strode past him towards the fall flowers.

“Pardon me?”

You turned your head towards him and winked. “Bigger than I thought.”

“So?” He approached you with his hands still in his coat pockets and peeked over your shoulder. “Can you do it?”

“Totally.” Then you gestured to the flowers. “Do you have any preferences? I don’t have all the flowers in yet, but I recommend going with some soft orange and sage tones... to cater to the season.”

“Forgive me, sweetheart, but I am useless when it comes to this kind of stuff. My qualities lie more in the technical aspect of things.” A hand ran through his thick dark hair and the gesture made him look boyish.

“Alright let me rephrase my question then: Do you trust me?” A sly smile sneaked on his face, matching yours. 

He tipped his head. “My life is in your hands.” 

“Good. Then please write down your details here.” You pushed a form over the counter once you reached it again, and the man just followed you around like a lost dog. You watched as his hand swiftly filled out the free spaces on the paper, curious which company he had been referring to. 

“Wait you’re working for SPS?” 

“I own it, sweetheart.” The man adjusted his coat as you tried to look unimpressed. “My name is James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.” His hand extended over the shiny countertop until it encased your smaller fingers and his warmth seeped through your body. 

Bucky’s smile brightened when you revealed your name to him, telling you how beautiful it was, and you began to struggle not to show the effects it had on you. Then he resumed filling out the order and slid it over to you again. 

“What cause are you raising money for this year?” You asked as you sorted the paper into your books, only to be surprised when Bucky seemed a little nervous all of a sudden. 

You knew Shield Protection Services was a pristine company with reach to people whose powers you could barely comprehend. Whatever they were choosing, it would have a big impact on the change their chosen organization was advocating. 

“Well, to be honest... we haven’t decided yet.” A silly idea hushed through your head at that, but you dismissed it. A company such as Bucky’s would raise sums only big fish could handle. There wasn’t space for the things you had in mind. 

“I hope you’ll do so soon, then.” You nodded thoughtfully and ended with a tight-lipped smile. 

Bucky nodded and smiled, then turned around and headed for the door. But before he could open it, he came back again. You looked up to see a black card held before you. 

“I’d be happy for suggestions... if you have any in mind.” He shrugged with that cheeky look of his and then left. And you just stood there, dumbfounded, and toying with the ridiculous idea that Bucky Barnes might actually be able to read minds. 

❁ ❁ ❁

“Rogers really couldn’t make it?” Tony asked as he leaned back in the leather booth of his very own establishment. He tipped his emptied whiskey glass towards the slender redhead at the bar and smiled as she rushed to get his refill ready. 

“He promised Bambi to be home...” Bucky trailed off as he watched a customer hit on the waitress - Tiffany he remembered - A pretty thing, but unfortunately incredibly hollow when it came to conversation... not that Bucky looked for anything like it.  

Tony huffed. “That woman has him wrapped around her finger!” He liked Bambi, everyone did, he just missed hanging out with his guys. 

“Just wait until you find the one, Tony,” Sam chimed in with a sly smirk on his face - a hopeful, yet cautious hint as Sam secretly loved the idea of all his friends finally finding the one. He was a romantic, Bucky knew it, even if Sam never actually said it. 

“Me? I would never give up my glorious bachelor life for one woman. There are way too many things to explore...”

“Mark my words, Stark. We’ll look back to this day and laugh about this incredibly jackassy statement. You, too will be finding the one. I just know it.”

Bucky chuckled and tipped his glass on the Table as the bickering of his friends faded into background noise. For some reason, he didn’t feel like adding to the conversation. He blamed it on the banality of a conversation both he and Tony had long decided on, but perhaps, it was because for once in his life, he considered taking Sam’s side on the topic. 

It was ridiculous, really, how fast you’d occupied his mind when it came to Sam’s comment about finding ‘the one’. He didn’t even know you aside from the ‘background check’ he conducted after his visit to your shop. That might have covered your personal details, but he still didn’t know if you were a dog person or preferred cats, or if you were vegan or vegetarian, or if you considered kids in your future. 

Bucky cleared his throat and sat up straighter when he felt the fluster creep up his neck. What the hell was happening to him? He wasn’t like this at all. Women occupied his mind for about as long as it took for him to make them come undone in his hands. When he was with them, his full attention was on them - he loved them - but he’d never let them control his life. James “Bucky” Barnes never even considered seeing them twice, let alone thinking about a future with them. 

Though, to Bucky’s displeasure - or pleasure (he hadn’t decided yet) - the thought of seeing you again wasn’t uncomfortable to him. On the contrary, he got a weird tingly feeling in his stomach when he remembered the smell of the flowers in your shop and how your delicate fingers carefully picked out the prettiest ones. Bucky sat his drink down with a clink. Maybe he’d had enough alcohol for tonight.

“Barnes, how come you’re not defending me here? Have you grown soft or something? Do you have a girl we don’t know about?” Tony’s nagging broke through to Bucky and the whole bar reached back into his consciousness.

“Sorry, what?” He stuttered, shaking his thought and trying to find a good answer to his friend’s remark. “I was distracted by Betty.” Bucky smiled sheepishly as he received a clap on his shoulder. 

“That’s my man.” Tony grinned and Sam huffed into his whiskey. And Bucky? He just sunk into his seat, feeling somehow shameful for the white lie he had made up.

❁ ❁ ❁

The SPS office was impressive. Amongst the old New York brick building surrounding it, it reached up into the sky with its glass front everything. But you wouldn’t be fooled by its fragile looks. This was one of the most secure buildings in the city. You’d read about it in an article some time back - the whole hype about the company was their way of making fragile-looking things indestructible. You couldn’t see through the “windows” from the outside. And you wouldn’t be able to launch a rocket through it either. SPS had patented their stronger-than-steel-glass years ago, making them the leading security company in the world. 

To say you had been a little surprised to see the very owner of said company on your side of town would be an understatement. But besides his incredibly adamant way of flirting, he was quite normal to talk to. He’d even asked you for advice on the cause they should donate to this year. And after having thought about it for the better part of what should have been your sleep time, you had decided to just try and pitch your idea. 

“Do you have an appointment Ms.?” A stunning redhead peered up at you from her desk, her nails clicked on the keyboard of her computer as she waited for your answer. You didn’t really know why you thought getting to Bucky was going to be easy. The security guard had already eyed you suspiciously at the front desk in the lobby. After you’d smiled at him as charmingly as you could, he’d decided to let you be someone else’s problem today - or maybe he just didn’t see you as a threat - whatever it was, it had gotten you this far. But what were you gonna say now?

Actually, I don’t have an appointment, but Mr Barnes met me yesterday and after thinking about him all night, I decided to pay him a visit today.

Yeah, that wouldn’t cut it. Not in this office. The redhead - N. Romanoff - was what her sign said, made that fairly clear with the way her lips pursed at the opened calendar on the screen. 

“You don’t happen to have to discuss something not suited for work with Mr. Barnes, do you? I know he tends to leave some of his meetings... open-ended.” 

Your eyes got wide. “God, no. I’m not-“ Your hands made a swishing motion between you two and then you took a breath. “I’m here to discuss business. Purely business. Mr. Barnes has made an order at my shop for the company fundraiser and I just want to discuss some details.” 

Her eyes glimmered when her lips pulled into a smile. “Did he now?” She peered over to catch the look of the blonde assistant a few feet next to her and then back to you. “Well if that is the case, please have a seat, I’ll tell him you’re here.” And with that, she got up, winked, and wrapped at the large wooden door presumably leading to Bucky’s office. 

She came back a minute later and gestured for you to enter. “Lucky for you, his meeting just got canceled, so you should have enough time.”

“Thank you.” And then Ms. Romanoff went back to her desk and started whispering to the blonde assistant. 

Bucky sat behind his desk, a sleek glass surface lightly cluttered with papers. Other than that, the room felt cool, the large rug by the seating area did little to cover the marbled floors. You stepped inside just as Bucky called out your name. You almost didn't see the wide smile on his face as the rising sun hung low on the horizon behind him, casting a halo-like glow around his silhouette. What a freaking entrance. Though Bucky surely couldn’t control the sun, you thought with a small smile, you really had to stop imagining this man was extraordinary. 

“You’re here.” He got up and walked towards you, his sleek back shoes echoing on the ground. And then he was next to you, leading you to the seat in front of his desk with his hand on the small of your back. “What brings me the honor of your visit, darling.”

He leaned on his desk with his arms crossed, a pleasant smile on his lips. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice that you came by, but you do have my number, don’t you?”

“I do.” You cleared your throat, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I was hoping you had some time to spare, actually. I find the phone to be a little... impersonal.”

Bucky’s eyes shined with intrigue as he leaned forward, pinning you to the chair with his gaze. He licked his lips. “Show me what exactly?”

“You’ll see.” You smirked. “I happen to know that your next meeting just got canceled.”

Bucky got even closer, his breath hitting your neck with every word he spoke. “And I’ll gladly cancel the rest, too.” A shiver shot over your arms, his cologne seemingly intoxicating you. But before you could respond, he backed up, grabbing his coat and gesturing towards the door. “Lead the way.” 

And so you did. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky was suspicious when you pulled him into the subway, but he decided against saying something. He had told you he trusted you after all, and though Bucky considered himself a lot of things, a flake was not one of them. So he let it happen. 

It wasn’t half bad, either. Somewhere between his office door and the train, you had taken his hand in yours to pull him along faster. Bucky had noticed his lips spreading into a smile. It didn't last long, unfortunately. Because as he had made eye contact with an elderly lady who had then proceeded to tell you what a beautiful couple you were, you had pulled your hand away with an awkward laugh. 

‘Oh, God, no, we’re not together, ma’am.’ 

Admittedly, Bucky felt a little sting in his chest ever since. In fact, he was rubbing his hand over his shirt at this very moment. You were walking along a street in Brooklyn, not too far from your shop. The neighborhood was a little more run-down than he was used to, certainly nothing like the part of town he lived in. But he kept quiet still. Maybe he was a little butthurt from your earlier aversion about the couple comment, but to be fair, Bucky wasn’t used to women denying him - except Nat. 

You suddenly stopped, making Bucky almost run into you and then stare at you in question. But when you gestured towards the sign above the two-story building, his gaze softened. 

There, above the blue-painted metal doors, hung a faded sign. Bucky could make out the orange and yellow stripes on the board, a big Sunflower painted in the middle of it all. ‘Sunflower -Shelter & Food’.

“Hey, are you coming or are you glued to the ground?” Your voice rang from the entrance, he hadn’t even noticed that you already moved inside. 

Bucky gulped when his eyes swayed back to you and then down his own body. If he was going to step in there in the outfit he was currently wearing, he would look like the biggest asshole on the planet. 

“I can’t go in there.”

“Why not?”

He just gestured towards his clothes, his Rolex glinting in the sunlight for good measure. But there was no reaction from you. You stood in the doorway, pursing your lips seemingly in thought, and then shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. “I guess you’ll just have to deal with it then.”

“What?” He called your name. But when he realized you weren’t joking, he caught up to you as fast as possible. Because the only thing worse than showing up there looking like he did was doing it alone, he decided swiftly. 

“‘Think now might be a good time to mention that this is not a very good place for a date,” Bucky mumbled next to you before closing his coat, trying to hide the even more expensive suit beneath. 

“How would you know?” You turned to him. “This isn’t a date, is it?”

Bucky just smirked and then he watched you greet a young boy with a warm hug, and man he imagined what it would be like to have you hug him like that. 

“Peter this is Bucky, Bucky, Peter.” You pulled him towards you by his hand again. “I brought him along to help today, thought we always need an extra pair of hands around here.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Peter reached his hand out, slightly frowning when he took in his appearance but did not say anything. “Any help is always welcome here. Come, I’ll show you what we’re doing today.” 

Within ten minutes, Bucky had an apron and gloves on and was ordered to cut the biggest stack of potatoes he’d ever seen. You were happily chatting away with the other helpers and Bucky, for the first time in a long time, felt ...normal. 

Nobody was recognizing him in the crowd, there was no talk about business and investments, and there were no fucking cameras. Here, people recognized him for what he came to do, help. And it felt weird. Bucky wasn’t quiet about his lavish lifestyle around his crowds. He knew the privilege he had, and he had worked for it enough to be proud of it. But it was like he had entered a different universe in this part of town. All the things he deemed normal, were things so far from imagination here, they were left out of conversations entirely. So, he tried to remember this whenever he was offered a conversation. 

“You do this every day?” He asked into the kitchen while struggling to peel his 5th potato. 

“Whenever we can.” An older woman answered with a smile. She was the one who had shown him how to use the peeler faster. “They are people just like you and me. They have to eat every day, too, Bucky.”

Bucky just nodded in silence at the humbling answer, his cheeks felt hot with embarrassment at how naive he had been. 

Two hours later, he was standing by your side at the serving station, plating mashed potatoes and the accommodating ‘you’re welcome’ every once in a while. He rarely was out of his comfort zone, like today. But he also knew that, whenever he felt unsure, he’d look at you and you’d gift him an encouraging gesture that kept him going a little while longer. 

After everyone had their food, you gave Bucky a tour of the premises. 

There was a small courtyard, a couple rooms with telephones and a computer, some sofas and pillows. Nothing fancy but functional nonetheless. You led him through every room, explaining curtly what it was for and then you led him up the stairs.

On your way up, you passed Peter, who was helping a child find its toy and Bucky felt a lump form in his throat at all the new impressions he was fed today.

He cleared his throat. “Peter... is he?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly. His parents died when he was quite young. Lucky for him, though, he has always been a bright kid. He got a scholarship for every school he ever went to. But he spends most of his free time here. He has this urge to help wherever he can. Took me a couple months to keep him from skipping his lectures.” You chuckled and led him through the next door. 

Bucky nodded with adoration. Not many people dedicated their time to something that would not benefit them directly. And while Bucky knew what a dedicated mind was capable of, he had to admit that his efforts were always motivated by personal gain. 

“He’s very admirable for that.” 

You just hummed in response. “I don’t think he chose it himself. Not that I think he wouldn’t. But this shelter belonged to his uncle and aunt. They died when he was in high school. He’s working hard to keep this place alive. As do we all.”

The next room you entered was resembling a classroom. “What happens here?”

“Most of the children are registered for the public school of this district. But they don’t always make it there. This room gives them the opportunity to catch up on missed work. We also have adult classes here, preparing for job interviews and such.”

The next hallway presented doors, all leading to bedrooms, as you explained to Bucky when you walked through the corridor. The last door was larger than the others - a double swing leading to a big sanitary area. Showers, toilets, and sinks lined the walls - all run down but functional. 

“This place could use some serious renovating,” Bucky mumbled, but he was sure you had heard him. Because you looked up at him now, a sad smile decorating your beautiful face. 

“We try to make it as clean and cozy as possible here, but we just don’t have the necessary financial means for it. It works for now. The people coming here need very little. But it’s only a matter of time until the roof needs redoing or the pipes or the windows, or the-“

“Yeah...” Bucky trailed off, making you stop and giving him a break to breathe. He usually wasn’t surrounded by people unable to get out of unfortunate situations. The clients he spent his time with ordered his services to protect the material things they’d bought for status and fun. It was something entirely different when you were robbed of your place to sleep. 

“Well, this completes my humble tour.” You clasped your hands together and proceeded to look at your watch. “I think it’s time to go home.”

You descended the stairs in silence, Peter hugged Bucky goodbye and when he stepped foot back on the sidewalk, Bucky turned around to the sign once more. You stood beneath it, leaning against the doorframe and smiling at him. It was dark out now. 

“Are you not coming?” He asked watching as you shook your head. 

“Peter has an exam tomorrow. I offered to stay the night.”

“Here? Alone?”

“Yes.” 

Bucky stepped towards you again. “Then I’m go-“

“Stop.” Your hand reached for his shoulder, the touch sending him straight back to a haze. “Don’t do this. I know how you feel. There’s this sadness inside you now. You saw this for the first time. It feels awful - I know.” You retracted your hand and pushed yourself off the doorframe. “But until you don’t see anything other than pity for these people, you can’t be here without breaking.”

“Doll...”

“Bucky, I'm serious. Go home. Sleep on it. Try to understand the situation.” 

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this helpless. He just stared at you, unable to move or say anything. He didn’t like the idea of you staying here alone at night. And though the feeling of caring for someone he’d only known for two days so much scared him, he pushed it aside. 

You leaned forward and hugged him goodbye and then the cold night surrounded him again. “Thank you for trusting me today.” And then you turned around and left him standing outside alone. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Your purple-inked pen marked the date in your calendar. 

“That’s an unusually big order, Steve...” You looked up at the blonde frequenting your shop every so often. He’d always get the pink carnations for his girlfriend. Apparently, she loved them after you bound them in the first bouquet you ever sold to Steve. He was a simple man, you could tell, so his usual orders were just as such. But not today. “Are you planning anything special?”

The handsome customer blushed with an innocent smile. “Actually...” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m planning to propose.” He looked so sheepish when you clasped your hands in excitement.

“Oh, that’s amazing. Congratulations!”

“Well not yet.” He cleared his throat, visibly trying to compose himself. But this giant pretty man in front of you was adorably nervous. 

“I just know she’ll say yes,” you mused and made a note to reserve some more carnations for his order - a couple simple arrangements that held so much meaning.

“How do you know?”

You watched Steve peer over to you with hopeful eyes. “It’s not every day a man puts so much effort and thought into what bouquet to get his girlfriend on a casual Monday evening each week.” You winked and Steve nodded lost in thought. 

“To be honest, I haven’t even thought about her saying no. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“You shouldn’t worry too much. You are a good man, everyone can see that. And just to be sure, I’ll make the most perfect flowers ever. Paired with your charming ways, there will be no other option but to say yes.”

He relaxed a little. “Great. Thank you.” And then he turned to leave your shop. 

“I’ll have them ready by Friday.” You smiled. 

“Thank you... so much.” Steve smiled and you knew there was so much more hidden in his gesture.

❁ ❁ ❁

It had become a habit that Bucky visited the shelter with you once a week. Admittedly, you were surprised he even cared enough to free his schedule so religiously. But as of the past four weeks, he had shown up at your shop, walked with you to Sunflower shelters, mingled with the people, and then even walked you home. 

It was actually kind of refreshing, seeing him so invested and kind of protective. There weren’t many guys in the city that cared enough to get you home safely. Peter offered more times than often, but you rather knew him safe at the shelter than try to fight a gangster double his size out of the kindness of his heart and the deep wish to somehow become a superhero one day.

So Bucky had to do it for now. Not that you were complaining. He was handsome and charming and interesting to converse with given the vastly different lives you lived. But he tried to adapt. Ever since the incident on the first day, he had even tried to wear less wealth-telling clothing, though he seemed to not always hit the mark just right. 

In a way, bucky was a little fashion icon. You’d noticed it in his colorful waistcoats, the intricate details on his shoes, or the fancy cufflinks adorning his oxford-cotton shirts. He tried to dress down. But to your surprise, the color remained. Instead of waistcoats and dress shirts, he wore regular t-shirts. His confidence never wavered.  

A little smile hushed across your face every time you looked at him. The pink shirt he wore combined with the green apron he had been given, made him look like a lollipop. A Beautiful one, that was. With a dashing smile and an adorable frown as he tried to separate the peas from the pod. 

“So... how is the gala coming along?” You teased him a little having noticed how unusual this task was for him. Throughout your few meetings, you had gotten to know Bucky quite well. And apart from his statement the very day he stepped foot into your shop, he revealed to you more and more how difficult the project was for him.

“Let’s just say I’m glad I can count on the flower arrangements,” he grumbles as a pea slipped from his fingers and across the table. 

“That bad, huh?”

His hands stopped working. “The Band canceled on me again and I seem to run after every other arrangement I have made so far. If I had known how much work-“ he huffed and then shook his head with an even deeper frown. 

“Hey, it’s okay to not be good at everything.” You encouraged him, your elbow nudging his side as you smiled lightly. “There has got to be something humbling you. Makes you seem more human.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I meant to ask you...” You picked up your task to avoid his eyes that were suddenly on you again. “How come you’re the one organizing the gala?”

Bucky chuckled, his head shaking for what seemed like the hundredth time today. “I made a deal with my assistant.” 

“What was in it for you?” You threw a couple peas in the strainer and Bucky did the same.

He shrugged. “I got to hand off some paperwork.”

Wow. “Seriously? A bit of paperwork seems like a poor trade for months of organizing something so important.”

Bucky laughed, the sound warming your stomach from the inside out and finally making you look at him again. It was little moments like this in which he felt so careless and relaxed. You liked to believe the shelter did it to him, or maybe even you. But primarily, you were glad he laid off his work self just then. “Yeah it might have not been my smartest move... but I don’t mind it really.”

“Why’s that?” Your eyes locked and you suddenly became very aware of how close the two of you were standing. 

“If it weren’t for the deal, I would have never met you.” There was something so honest and pure about the way he had stated this so plainly. And for a moment, you liked to forget that he might have just meant your suggestion to donate to Sunflower. That maybe, the funny fluttery feeling in your stomach wasn’t one-sided, and that you too meant something greater to him than the coincidences that led him into your shop that day. 

A wide smile spread on Bucky’s face and then he winked. He freaking winked at you. And while you turned back to your peas, desperate to hide the fluster on your face, you had to remind yourself that this was Bucky fucking Barnes and that he knew what he was doing.

About two hours later, you sat amongst the people currently living at the shelter, sharing the meal you had prepared for them with the hopes of getting them through another day. You and Bucky were sitting with Gabe Jones, a veteran whose post-traumatic stress disorder had cost him everything after the Vietnam War. He was always telling stories of his time on the front - a way to cope with his horrible past. By now, you and Peter had probably heard every single one of his stories twice. But Bucky was on the edge of his seat. Listening with intrigue as the food on his plate remained untouched. 

“It was ’68 when I was sent out. There were soldiers who done already survived a year or so at the front. And, son, I am sayin’ survived ‘cause you couldn’t call that livin’.” Gabe shook his head before pointing his fork to his shoulder. “Caught a grenade in ’69 and on our way to camp, they shot at the helicopter. Lost my right arm and comrade that day. The damn arm’s gone but I’m gon’ have the memory forever.”

The words didn’t seem to affect the veteran anymore, but they never failed to leave their recipients shocked and wondering. It was always the same question: How can someone fight for a country, leave their life for a country, and end up here?

And honestly? You didn’t know. 

“I’m so sorry, sir.” Bucky swallowed as his eyes fled over to yours. “Thank you for your service.”

“Notin’ to be sorry ‘bout.” Gabe waved his hand and then pointed at Bucky’s plate. “You eatin’ that?” 

Bucky just shook his head and pushed his plate towards Gabe, a somber state overtaking his body. You did feel a little bad. But you also knew that Gabe wasn’t affected by sympathies and that he was happy at Sunflower - though he preferred the street over the beds here. While he had spent just another day existing, he had simultaneously opened Bucky’s eyes to the severity of making stories like his more known. 

By now you were pretty confident, Bucky would choose the homeless as recipients for his company’s fundraiser sum. But he surprised you by getting involved with the people here over and over again, willing to learn and to understand. 

The walk to your apartment building that evening was awfully quiet. Bucky had insisted he walk on the street side of the sidewalk, buried his hands in his coat pockets, and shut up ever since.

You knew he was contemplating, letting the day play on repeat in his mind. He probably had a lot of questions, a lot of frustration, and worry. Nothing unfamiliar to you, but something you’d learned to deal with ever since helping out at Sunflower. 

“Don’t feel bad,” you said when you stopped in front of the familiar brick building you called home. 

“How?”

“Feeling bad isn’t helping them. You have the power to change things.” It was an awfully dry response, but the truth hurt sometimes. 

Bucky just looked at you through hooded eyes, a knowing nod shaking his features as he watched slowly take a step back toward your front door. 

“Thank you,” he suddenly released - steady and calm. “For taking me. For helping me see...” 

You couldn’t help yourself. The confession overwhelmed you. Knowing you had succeeded in showing him what was so important to you overwhelmed you. You leaped forward and slung your arms around him, pressing tightly into his chest. 

Bucky’s arms found their way around you in an instant, the hug conveying so much more than just a goodbye. It was a ‘thank you’ a ‘this means the world to me’.

After about a minute, you leaned up to him and placed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m also glad you took the deal, Bucky.” You whispered into his ear, feeling the smile on his face on your cheek. 

When he finally released you, it seemed like the spell was gone. Bucky was back to burying his hands in his pockets, only the faint remnants of a smile hinting towards your earlier interaction. You hadn’t realized how much this would affect him. You had forgotten how long you fought with yourself until you could act normal around the people at Sunflower yourself. 

“Do you want to come up?” You threw your thumb over your shoulder at the entrance of the building with a lopsided smile. “Don’t want that cheap bottle of merlot to go bad.”

Bucky’s eyes brightened underneath the street lights and the wide boyish grin returned to his face. “We can’t have that, can we?”

❁ ❁ ❁

To say Bucky’s heart had skipped a beat at your invitation would have been an understatement. It did somersaults and ended with an impressive backflip. He’d not expected a move from your side. Especially, since the last time he had picked you up, the universe had flipped him the bird by sending two of his former one-night-stands your way. He had been able to shake them off before they were able to yell at him or reveal more of what their connection to him was. But that marked the first time he was a little embarrassed by his late endeavors. You had acted like nothing happened, but since that night, Bucky hadn’t stopped wondering what you thought of him. 

You lead him up the narrow staircase to a red wooden door, the color chipping by the floor as an indicator of having to kick it to open sometimes. Beyond the door, it was cozy and warm. Every corner of your place had a memory placed in it - a self-made quilt or a photograph. When you walked through it, Bucky could feel the love and time this place had seen. 

It was nothing like his own apartment: a penthouse standing high above the city, with sleek black surfaces and cold marble wherever you reached. Here, he felt the need to take his shoes off, to feel the fuzzy carpets on the scratched-up wooden floors. Your place wasn’t sterile like his, it felt... like a good hug. 

Bucky snorted as the result of a breath he released. Never before had he cared about what his place lacked. It was expensive and pristine, clean and big. And even though your apartment was about the size of his living room, it had so much more to offer. 

“The living room is right through there, you can choose a movie if you like.” Your voice called out from somewhere Bucky assumed to be the kitchen as he kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable on the rust-colored sofa that had more pillows than necessary. It was super comfortable, though. And the lack of space due to the pillows forced you to sit a little closer to him, so he wasn’t complaining.

“Your place is... cute.” He stated as you handed him a glass of wine and laughed. 

“It’s a shoebox but I do love it very much. Probably nothing compared to what you’re used to.”

Bucky shook his head and took a sip. The wine did taste cheap, but he did not care. “Bigger isn’t always better.” His arm was spread on the backrest but your whole body was turned to him. “It has a lot of character.”

“Oh god, please stop, you’re just making it sound worse.” Your hand came up to hide your face but your smile peeked through the gesture. 

Bucky laughed. “I didn’t mean it condescendingly. I really do like it. Reminds me of my childhood home.”

“Are you close with your family?” Bucky was surprised by the question. Maybe it was because his friends never talked about his family, or because the peers he hung out with tended to discuss business rather than sentimental. But he realized that nobody had asked him about it for a long time.

And so he began talking. Bucky talked about his parents and how both of them died early in his life. He told you how close he was with his sister until she got adopted into another family. He spoke about his childhood with Steve and how they’d met Sam and Tony in college, about the night they had the idea for Shield Protective Services, and finally the day he was told his sister had passed away. 

Throughout his story, you had leaned into him closer, hanging onto his every word until your hand had to support your body on his thigh and Bucky suddenly stopped talking. 

Your glasses were emptied, the bottle as well, and Bucky gulped when he felt the heat from your hand travel throughout his entire body. 

“So... that’s my story.” He had to clear his throat to gain his usual timber back, his hands becoming sweaty when you blinked next to him. “What about you, dove?”

“Dove?” You smiled, yet intrigued by the name that had slipped past his lips in the trance of the moment. He’d only ever called you that in his thoughts. Attributed the nickname to you the second he realized it was the most fitting one of them all. 

“You don’t like it?” He asked, his arm slipping towards your shoulder ever so slightly. 

“I like it.” You smiled. “I just want to know... why this one?”

A hush of giddiness crawled up his throat when he thought about his answer. It was the way you had welcomed him so easily into this world of yours. How you were willing to show him the things precious to you. That you trusted him with this very opportunity to help. Every day he spent with you he felt it, found that between coding his new security program and meeting with Hydra enterprises, its somber reality sent him into a feeling of breathing fresh air. You created a button that turned off the noise in his head. “Because you bring me peace.”

Your eyes stared at him in wonder when he tilted your chin with his thumb and index finger. There was appreciation and happiness, he could see it, feel it. 

Bucky was entranced by your stare when your voice whispered a response to him: “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever been told.”

You leaned forward and Bucky’s heart threatened to jump out of his chest, and then your face fell into his chest, your arms encasing him in the warmest hug he’d ever received. He willed his pulse to slow and wrapped his arms around you tightly. A little humbled and a little confused, but appreciative of the situation nonetheless. 

You stayed like this when you chose a movie to watch. Even after an hour, Bucky’s grip didn’t loosen. He peered down at you on his chest and watched as you fell asleep. And when he was sure you were far away in your slumber, he pressed a warm kiss to your head, lingering in the scent of your shampoo.  

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky stared at his computer screen as the pen in his hand clicked on his glass desk in perfect rhythm. The Shelter website displayed on the surface, portraying a brighter version of the sign you had dragged him to that very first day. 

But it wasn’t the heartfelt story behind the building or the way his pen clicked slightly more hollow every other tap because he turned it too much that had him zoned out at work. It was - as unbelievable as it sounded - a woman. Not just any, no. You. 

“Hey, I need a signature from you for this design draft.” Steve dropped his notepad on the desk, then rounded it and settled behind Bucky who had yet to recognize his presence. 

“This your charity suggestion?” He questioned with his hands on his friend’s office chair. 

Bucky nodded absentmindedly. Perhaps it was because he had decided to support your suggestion the second you had taken his hand on his way to the subway. Or maybe he was just letting his mind roam freely again. Mainly because it was a safe bet to call you into memory and he liked the feeling it provided. 

A pale hand waved in front of his face. “Earth to Bucky.” Steve snapped his fingers, making the brunette jump. “You seem oddly distracted.”

He had been thinking about you. Of course, he had. There seemed to be nothing else he could do lately. Every time Bucky read through his reports, he imagined what your voice would sound like reading them to him. Whenever he went down to IT, he envisioned the room decorated with your flowers and how much happier they would make the place. When he sat in a meeting with HR and watched their burnt-out faces stare back at him through their coffee haze, he wondered if you could make them as lively as you made him. 

Bucky could - so he realized after weeks of denial - not escape you. 

That was one thing. But the more chilling revelation was that he did not mind. He enjoyed the little admonitions his mind set out in his environment. He appreciated the quickening thumb in his chest, whenever he saw his calendar entries stating another meeting with you - so much so that he almost forgot how unusual it was for him. 

It was crazy. A month ago, if someone had dared to tell him he’d be finding something more than his regular flings, he would have laughed in their face. In fact, he actually did a few days before he met you. 

Bucky didn’t know what kind of magical spell you’d put on him, but within a few weeks, he’d started to become a different man. A better version of his thought-to-be-marvelous self. Now he realized what he was missing: a counterpart, someone who made life seem dull without them by his side. He wasn’t going to admit it to Sam or Steve immediately, but the idea of you being that very someone became more attractive each day. 

“Just a lot to do with the gala and all...” Bucky trailed off and spun around to Steve. 

“You know, I never took you for an event manager...” The blonde grinned and his eyes lit up in the office light. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I like seeing you try something new, but this feels very... out of place.”

“But you also know I never back down from a challenge. And I’ll be damned if Nat has something to hold against me for life.”

Steve’s head tipped forward. “We both know that woman has blackmail material for two lifetimes on us. 

“She really does.” Bucky sighed and then slumped back in his chair, the little issue he had been hiding from his best friend gnawing on his mind. 

He thought about Steve and Bambi and how he had just asked her to marry him. She’d said yes, of course, nobody expected otherwise. Steve - of all people - was living a magical fairytale life with the woman of his dreams. And here Bucky was, thinking he had figured it all out with women and relationships - or rather that he never wanted one - yet he found himself wondering why that decision bugged him so much when you came into the picture. 

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, not believing he was really going to ask Steve for dating advice.

“Always.”

“How did you know that Bambi was the one?” A stupid question, really. Bucky already knew there was nobody like you. But it was best to start this conversation off lightly.

Steve smiled widely again, his cheeks tinted pink. “Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. And not in an I haven’t touched a woman in years kind of way... I couldn’t stop. Every second of every day, I imagined her with me. The thought of her made me happier even before she knew how I felt about her. And, well, it also hurt like hell when I thought she didn’t return my feelings... when she refused to talk to me for a day...” He cleared his throat and then eyed Bucky again. “Why do you want to know?”

“Nothing in particular. I was just wondering and I needed material for my best man speech.” But the blonde didn’t buy it. He caught Bucky’s chair when he attempted to turn away, pulling him right back in front of him. “Are you dating someone? Is it that woman from the flower shop?”

How did he know about you? “No??” Bucky squinted at Steve. 

“You know if you wanted advice, I do consider myself an expert to some extent now.” Bucky wanted to wipe the smug grin right off his friend’s face. 

“You’re an idiot.” He stood up and paced to the window.

“Oh come on, Buck.” Steve followed suit, the playful grin ever present. “You teased me for years about my love life, can’t be mad now.”

“I’m not mad.” He was annoyed. 

They stood by the glass front for a while, watching the busy city unfold beneath them in the glow of the rising sun. Bucky could feel his friend’s eyes stare at him though. And after another moment of silence, the blonde finally spoke. “You should ask her out.”

“What?” He faced him again. 

“You like her. I can tell. And you’ve never acted like this about a woman, let alone put so much effort into a relationship. I know it’s not your style, but I think it would do you good to at least try.”

“The effort is for the gala.” Bucky corrected. 

“Right. Because that’s your thing... charity galas.” Steve squeezed Bucky’s shoulder and then tapped it and then he made his way to the door. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I really wish you would listen to your heart and not be a stubborn dickhead for once. This could be something life-changing - something great. And it’s your choice whether you welcome it or not.”

Life changing. Bucky didn’t like the sound of that. He liked to be in control of the situation and rule over his own life. However that aspect seemed to have left the building when you entered. 

He huffed. There you were back on his mind again, and he felt the tingle creep up his throat. There was no denying it. What Steve had described with Bambi was what Bucky had with you. 

With a shake of his head, he grabbed his coat, told Nat he’d be back in an hour, and then pressed the button for the elevator. He would deny it if Steve ever dared to take pride in convincing him to do so, but he’d also be damned if he didn’t at least try to find out if you felt the same. 

❁ ❁ ❁

There was a burly-looking stranger standing at the counter when Bucky entered your shop. He had willed the traitorous voice in his head to silence all the way here. But now that he saw the handsome older man taking all your attention to the point you hadn’t even noticed him stepping in over the customer's broad shoulders, the heat began to bubble up again. 

Bucky wanted to tell himself you wouldn’t prefer the salt-and-pepper-bearded man over him. But to be honest, he didn’t even know what your type was. Yes, you had cuddled on your sofa just the other night, but since Bucky wouldn’t consider himself an expert in anything other than one-night stands, it could have been a friendly gesture for all he knew. 

“Would that be all for you?” You asked the man and handed him his chance. Bucky watched as his thumb grazed over your hand, feeling a tinge of anger starting to consume him.  

“That’s all. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I hope to see you again soon, sir.”

“Oh, you can bet on it.” He winked then turned, nodded to Bucky in a brief greeting, and then exited the shop. Bucky’s eyes lingered on the door for a while longer. He took deep breaths as his jaw clenched and the bell above the entrance fell silent. 

“Hey.” A warm hand touched his arm, pulling him right back to your eyes. And just like that, the anger washed away a little. There were just you and him in your tiny oasis amid Brooklyn. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” He forced a smile, but the frown on his face probably betrayed him. “Just thought that man was a little inappropriate.” 

“He’s just a sweet man buying flowers for his wife.” Your eyes glimmered with mischief when you bit your lip. “Bucky... are you jealous?”

Oh, hell no.

“Jealous?” Bucky wasn’t jealous. He couldn’t be. There was nothing to be jealous of. He had no claim to you. Even if he really wished he did. And yet that man had angered him with only the touch of his hand. That was the only thing he’d ever get. Bucky knew what it felt like to have you in his arms, how your body lotion settled in his nose, how your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. “No.”

“But you should not be so naïve, dove. Married men are also flirting... and cheating.”

A short laugh escaped your throat before you caught yourself again and Bucky’s heart began doing that funny somersault thing. “Not to burst your bubble or anything, but I do know how the real world works.” You crossed your arms before your chest. “Besides, what do you care if he did ask me out? Maybe it has been a lifelong dream of mine to be a mistress.”

“It’s not. And I don’t. I just think you deserve someone better than a cheater.”

“Oh, like who? The percentage of good guys in this city is disappointingly low.”

Bucky snorted, guided by the excitement in his chest he opened his arms. “Please, I could name at least five guys off the top of my head who are better than whatever that was.” His left hand flailed in the direction of the door, referring to the previous customer. 

“Name one.”

“Me.”

The surprise sprung onto your features faster than Bucky realized what he had said. “What?” 

Well, this was certainly not the way he had planned to ask you out today. Damn jealousy. The only way for this to not be embarrassing was to own up to it now. It was what he had come here for after all, right?

Bucky looked directly into your eyes, his expression sincere and determined. "Yes, me. I may not have everything figured out, but I do know one thing: I care about you. I've seen the way you light up a room, the kindness you show to everyone around you. You deserve someone who sees that, who appreciates it.”

Your eyes softened when you shook your head, averting your gaze to the ground. “I don’t know, Bucky.”

He bit the insides of his cheeks, instantly hoping you’d say something else. Anything that would show him there was a chance you would change your mind. The silence was all-consuming, but he kept his mouth shut, careful not to fuck it up once again. 

“Bucky, I appreciate your honesty, I really do. But I don't think it's a good idea.”

Bucky's brows furrowed, his confidence wavering as your soft refusal hit him. "What do you mean, you don't know?" he asked, his tone tinged with a hint of frustration. He struggled to keep his composure, the unfamiliar feeling of rejection gnawing at him. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he searched for the right thing to say. His jaw tensed, betraying the hurt he felt deep down. "Forget it," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. With a curt nod, he turned on his heel, his disappointment palpable in the air as he made his exit, leaving you to contemplate his unexpected confession.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Why, don’t you just look precious!” You bent down and picked up Sam’s daughter, Darla, who had eagerly stormed through the door as soon as he’d opened it because she wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the handle yet. 

“You... I’ve missed you soooo much.” You nuzzled her into your chest and pretended to squeeze real tight. 

“Come play dragons with me!” The little one squirmed and then hopped off in her tiny knight costume.

“Nothing I would rather do,” you singsonged and then mouthed a ‘she’s grown so much’ to Sam before he closed the door with a shake of his head. 

“I know... she just does it without my permission. Unbelievable.”

About ten minutes later, you sat on the living room floor with a bunch of stuffed dragons, you had been instructed to play. Sam’s daughter was happily fighting the stuffies with her wooden sword and his husband handed you a cup of coffee with a smile. 

“So how have things been?” Matt sat down on the sofa and Sam instantly wrapped his arm around him. Your eyes lingered on the interaction for a second before your gaze wandered back to Darla. 

“Oh, you know, business as usual. The shop is doing very well... the shelters are holding up.” You smiled at her and then made a dragon fall backward in defeat. 

“Hm...” He frowned. “That’s weird... I had a feeling it was getting better soon.”

You smiled tight-lipped and wondered if you had butchered it all with your stubbornness. Matt wasn’t clairvoyant or anything crazy like it. But the joke of his other senses being heightened due to his impaired vision had carried on forever. And even though you never believed in supernatural magical things, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, there was a hunch of truth to it nonetheless. He had been right about many other things after all. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed and Darla excused herself to her room to ‘get more toys’. “Except for the shop, everything else seems to go a little downhill right now.”

“But you have been seeing someone, no?” Matt tilted his head and Sam squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to make him stop. 

“Babe, do we need to talk about appropriate prying again?” 

“Sorry,” Matt blushed, “Occupational hazard.”

You laughed and then turned serious again. “I have... but to be honest, I doubt it will have a future. It’s - I don’t know - it just seems a little too good to be true.”

“It’s been Bucky you’ve been seeing, hasn’t it?” Sam chimed in with a calm deep voice, making your attention snap to him. Your heart began to race at the mention of Bucky’s name. 

“How did you know?”

His fingers lifted in air quotes “A gorgeous girl with a flower shop in Brooklyn that somehow tries to convince him to donate to Sunflower shelters? You did not make it hard, honey.”

“He... he talks to you about me?” Well, that changes things, you thought as you watched Sam reassure you with a small smile. 

"More like a little birdy told me...." Sam shrugged. “What happened?” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes holding concern.

“Isn’t it obvious? I don’t want to be one of his many trophies. And I’m scared, I just made the chase attractive by not putting out immediately.” Your eyes turned glassy. “What if he will lose interest when I do.” Your voice broke, making you almost whisper the last part into the living room. “Because I really really want to...”

Matt cleared his throat. “If it helps anything... I have a feeling you are not going to be just another one-night stand.”

“And why is that?”

“I’ve never seen him like this.” Sam chimed in. “So butthurt about a girl or even put effort in a relationship that would only become a one night stand - which it is not - he wants more, he needs more. He sees a future with you. And as much as his bad-boy demeanor has made that pretty unbelievable in the past, he is changing. I just know, and it’s about time that he aims for peace and quiet and love and comfort.”

Turning your head with a suspicious grin, you answered: “Is Matt contagious? Because that sounded one hell of a lot like a prediction to me.”

Sam just shook his head with a smile, scooted forward on the sofa, and then took your hands in his. “Believe me when I say this: You are so amazing. And not even a douchebag like Bucky could deny it. Yes, he has had his fair share of women in the past, and he can be the most stubborn dickhead in all of New York City, but he’s not stupid. He knows something valuable when he sees it. And you, love, have given him the most precious thing he’s ever had.”

You held eye contact for a short moment, letting your friend’s words sink in and warm you from the inside until the butterflies in your stomach began to tingle. As much as you wanted to refuse, you had shown him love and acceptance every step of the way. And Bucky? Bucky had tried so hard to impress you. He had done so many things just for you, to spend time with you.

You just wrote it off as a means to get you to sleep with him. But at this point, that argument was farfetched. Because throughout the time you spent together, his presence was pleasant, casual, and... wanted. 

“So what do I do now?” You said with determination, making a smile spark on both Sam’s and Matt’s faces.

❁ ❁ ❁

“So, Barnes is unusually grumpy tonight.” Bucky heard Tony say when he came back from the bathroom, jamming his glas on the table to announce he was listening. “Did you get cockblocked or what?”

“Shut it, Stark, or I’ll personally demonstrate your very own cockblock.” Bucky pressed through his teeth. 

“Damn, Buck. What the hell could possibly throw you off this much?” Tony signaled for two more drinks to the bar as Bucky took a seat again. 

Sam looked at him with a raised brow - the fucker knew what was going on. But Bucky refused to get dragged into talking about his feelings. 

“I thought it was going good?” Steve chimed in, a question in his features. Steve, you punk. Shut up!

Bucky knew he was referring to the bouquets of flowers that subtly decorated the office now. First his own desk, then the kitchen. And when Nat had grown suspicious, he proceeded to place them on her desk to have her stop asking questions. 

It wasn’t his doing - not this time. You had just given him a bouquet of the flowers you couldn’t sell anymore every time you met. And Bucky couldn’t bring himself to throw them out. They also reminded him of you and were a nice little distraction from work. ...Not that it mattered anymore.

“Going good? What is going on? What are you talking about, Rogers?”

“Bucky met a- ouch goddamnit!” A kick was heard from beneath the table. And when Steve’s eyes snapped over to Sam, the man just tipped his head with a warning stare. “What the hell, man?”

“Okay, that’s it. I feel like you guys don’t tell me anything. I need details. Now.”

“No.”

Bucky didn’t need Tony to know. In fact, Bucky didn’t need anyone to know he had trouble talking to a woman. He, of all people, who never had any difficulties getting even the married ones - yeah he wasn’t too proud of that... But Tony would just make everything worse. And with his patience hanging by a thread right about now, he was not willing to play with fire. 

“Buck, we- they’re your friends. They deserve to know, especially if things are as serious as you told me.” Bucky just stared at Steve in silence, his gaze trained on the crystal class in front of him with the amber liquid untouched. Steve always had a need to calm the storm. And maybe, Bucky would let him do it this time. 

Truthfully, Bucky couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore. His friends would sooner or later hear about you - if he had not fucked it up entirely. So, it was better to rip the band-aid off now than peel it back painfully slow in the future. 

He crossed his arms and exchanged a brief glance with the blonde, and Steve understood that he was allowed to proceed. 

“Bucky met someone. He’s organizing the charity gala this year and she’s the florist doing the flower arrangements.” He had never noticed it before, but ever since Bambi had entered Steve’s life, his best friend’s fable for romance became more and more apparent to Bucky. 

“She’s also helped him find a cause to donate to. She’s been taking him to the Shelter she has worked at for years,” Sam chimed in and Bucky didn’t even question where he got his information from anymore. Steve and he had always been close, and though Bucky didn’t believe Steve would tell Sam his most private conversations, Sam always had a way of finding out. 

“Event planning? Florist? Who are you and what have you done to Bucky?” Tony looked seriously stunned, But Bucky didn’t expect anything less than incomprehension. He had always been the only one in the group Tony could relate to and talk to when it came to women and lifestyles. Now, that very thing was slipping away. 

Bucky just shrugged, uncertain how to answer. It was true: He had changed quite a bit ever since meeting you. But they weren't bad changes. He actually liked them. 

Steve cleared his throat. “I thought things were going great, just the other day he talked about asking her out. And there were all these flowers in the office, I just assumed...”

“Yeah well, they weren’t.” Bucky interrupted as he felt the frustration creep back up. There were so many new feelings mixing within him that he didn’t know what to do with them. 

“Well it’s good to have you back, I guess. Can’t imagine how that would’ve turned out.” Tony’s hand landed on Bucky’s shoulder, who immediately brushed it off. 

“What do you mean ‘turned out’?”

His head swayed from left to right and his hands turned outward. “Well, we all agree it would have never worked out right? You’re not the one for relationships and she was clearly using you for that charity money.”

What the actual fuck?

“You don’t know her. So don’t you dare assume anything about her.” Bucky sprung up, his hands hitting the table with a thump. “Dove has the kindest, most beautiful soul on this earth.” He wouldn’t let Tony, of all people, insult you. Not you. Not his dove. And, yes, maybe it also hurt a little that his friend did not believe Bucky could change for something truly important. And maybe it scratched his ego that this might have been the reason for your rejection the other day. But all of that seemed unimportant now. 

“Look at you growing all protective.”

“Tony.” Steve’s condescending tone rumbled over the booth. 

A look at Tony and Bucky wanted to smack the smirk off his face. Another look at Sam, whose eyes had grown soft with empathy. And one last look at Steve, who’d only wanted him to be as happy as him. Damn it. 

“You wouldn’t fucking know what I’m talking about, Stark.”

And then he stormed out of the Ironbar and into the night, head fuming, heart racing, and only one thing on his mind. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You were pretty sure Bucky would have kicked your door down had you not opened it the second time he wrapped his fist against it. Now he was standing in front of you, cheeks reddened from the cool night air, chest rising with deep breaths, but still devilishly handsome. 

“Hey, Bucky!” You smiled until you noticed the irritated look in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He seemingly ignored you, stepping into your home and then turning once you closed the door. “Do you think I can change?”

“What?”

“Do you believe I could change? That I could become the person you would date?” His eyes were pleasing, his head cocked to the side - fidgedy.

“Is... is this about the other day?”

Bucky looked nervous, vulnerable even. “Just answer my question, please.”

“I believe everyone has the ability to change. But I also know not everyone wants to.” You looked at your hands, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

“Then why... why do you think I haven’t. Through all the times we’ve gone to the shelter, through all the conversations. I’ve never had that with someone before... what I have with you.”

There it was. You knew you had to talk to him about it sooner or later. Sam and Matt had suggested as much. You just didn't know it would be this soon.

“Bucky, I just don’t want to end up as one of the women passing you on the street, throwing side eyes at the newest one you’re having on your arm.” Yeah... that encounter had been a rather awkard one. Not to mention how nervous you were that night, hopig Bucky had only played it cool in order to protect you.

“See, but that wouldn’t happen to you, dove. It wouldn’t. Because I realized that you are the reason that makes me want to change.” Bucky's gaze softened as he spoke, his tone gentle yet resolute he stepped closer. “I'm not perfect, but I promise you this: I'll always try my best for you. So, yeah, maybe it's a long shot, but I think I could be good for you. And if you'd give me the chance, I'd love to show you.” He took your hands in his, then closed his eyes and came even closer. “I know I'd treat you right.”

Throughout his confession, your gaze never faltered from his face. You could feel the desperate honesty in his tone, in the way his hands lightly trembled. He was scared, and he lay that emotion in your hands - for you to do whatever you needed with it. 

Your voice was shaky when you answered, a light hue of shame fogging the question on the tip of your tongue. “But how do I know...?” That this is not what you’re telling every woman in this godforsaken city? 

But Bucky understood. Because apparently that pull you'd had toward him had been there for a reason. “Because the things you make me feel scare me.” His face was mere inches from yours now, you could see every speck of color in his irises. “They scare me because I’ve never felt them before. Every time I’m not with you, I think of you. In every situation I am in alone, I imagine how much more exciting it would be with you in it. I’m going crazy. I’m lost without you, dove.”

A single tear ran down your face at his confession. This moment felt so raw, his words so sincere. But most importantly, it made your heart pound with excitement. 

“Will you be mine?” His forehead leaned against yours, his hands moving up your arms and to your neck. “Please say yes,” he whispered and his breath tickled your nose. 

He just felt so right. Bucky felt right in your home, in your arms, in your life. “Yes.” You finally answered and as soon as the syllable left your mouth, his lips came crashing onto yours. 

Within seconds, Bucky had you pressed against the door. His hands held your face lovingly, his hands warm and big on your skin. The kiss was deep and so unbelievably pure, it punched the breath from your lunges the second your lips connected. And suddenly you knew that Bucky’s words held far less emptiness than you had feared. Nobody could kiss like this and not be sincere. At least you hoped it to be true because once you’d gotten a taste, you knew you would never want to try anything else. You could get drunk off him. Forever.

Your hands wandered beneath Bucky’s coat, settling in the warmth of his back beneath the thick wool and feeling the muscles ripple when he pulled you even closer. 

You sighed into him because the moment felt so right, so perfect, so tailored to the two of you and Bucky brushed his tongue over your bottom lip. The tingle from the gesture traveled down your spine. Before you could hold yourself back, you let his touch swallow you whole. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky moaned, a feeling so warm and enjoyable taking over his body with every breath you stole from him. He had wanted for this to happen for weeks. And the real thing did not disappoint. 

Your hands roamed his back until they hooked onto his shoulders and began shrugging off his coat. He tried hard to keep your lips on his during the action, not wanting to miss a single moment without them anymore. You were here, you were his, and it was perfect. 

“Bucky,” you whimpered when his thigh made its way between your legs. A move so instinctually feeling for him. But all the other women he’d been with before only seemed like practice now. Preparation to be the best lover you’ve ever had and ever will have. Because you were the real thing, the grand prize, the best person to ever happen to him. 

You ground down on his legs in rhythmic motions, Bucky could feel the heat seeping through his expensive dress pants and it made him feel even hotter. He pushed his leg higher, reveling in the sounds that came from your lips and the very knowledge he was the one providing this pleasure. There was nothing more exhilarating. 

But still, it wasn’t enough. “There are too many layers of clothes between us, dove,” his wet breath brushed against your cheek as he pulled his thigh back for you to take off your jeans. 

“You’re so right.” You grinned and then pulled them down in one swift motion only to reveal a pink pear of panties underneath. 

In an instant, his body was pressed to yours again, his lips attaching to yours like magnets - he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you. But instead of placing his leg right back to get you that delicious friction, his hand began traveling down your front until it disappeared in your underwear. 

If you were any other woman, Bucky would’ve gone down on you. He would have dropped to his knees and eaten you out because he knew it was the fastest way he’d make you come. And he took pride in the fact that the women he was with always had at least one orgasm more than him. But he didn’t do so with you. 

Why?

Because Bucky Barnes got high off of your lips, and he couldn’t possibly imagine not seeing your face, feeling your mouth shape in a silent scream when he would make you come for the first time. 

So his hand had to do for now. His fingers slipped past the thin pink cotton and over your mound to gather your slickness. He gasped when he reached your heated core. “You’re so wet for me, love. So ready.” He pecked the corner of your lips. “So perfect.”

“Yes!” You whined and pressed your pussy into his touch. Bucky immediately started to trace circles on your clit. He took his time to find the motions with which your breath staggered, or your fists clenched in his shirt. With every whimper, every stroke of his hand, he felt his dick strain his pants a little more - the aching exciting him for when he could finally sink into you. 

“Shit, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

“I don’t plan on ever stopping.” He growled into your mouth, his hand movements becoming more frantic, the wet noises filling your apartment. Frankly, Bucky didn’t believe he could ever stop giving you pleasure and having you writhe in his arms with deep sighs. Not until he knew how you sounded cumming on his hand, on his face, on his dick, on the sofa, on the bed, and every other surface he could possibly imagine. Your body was like ecstasy.

Your walls began to clench around his fingers, every drag becoming harder as he imagined his cock being squeezed by you instead. “There you go, Baby. That’s it.”

“OH MY GOD!” You screamed as your hand pulled on his hair, your body growing rigid with pleasure and Bucky kissed every curse word from your lips. 

After a minute, he slowly pulled his hand back, the other caressing the skin on your cheek. “Are you okay?” He whispered, his eyes boring into yours in genuine concern. 

“Are you kidding? I’m more than okay. That was incredible.” Bucky couldn’t help the small chuckle from leaving his lips at your praise. 

“You look really fucking pretty when you come.”

“I’m glad. Because I want you to make me do it again.” You kissed his cheek. “And again.” And then you gently stroked his cock through his pants. “And again.”

And the second you said that Bucky pulled you onto the floor with him. He took his time removing your clothes, kissed the trial of your bra strap all the way down your shoulder, licked and bit at your hips all the way down to your ankles where he finally pulled off your underwear and pressed his lips to the soft skin of your leg. And when you were fully naked, he paused. Bucky’s eyes roamed your body, taking in every divot, every mark and curve of yours.

He sat back on his haunches, his head getting dizzy when the butterflies took over. “God, you’re so beautiful,” Bucky softly wheezed, his hand slowly stroking your leg as you lay spread out in front of him. 

“Come here.” You gestured with your arms open, welcoming him in your embrace with a wide smile. Bucky supported his weight with his arms on either side of your head and let your hands bury in his hair. He closed his eyes letting the warmth of your touch overtake him. Your thumbs stroked over his brows before you whispered: “Look at me.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I doubted you. I feel the appreciation in the way you talk to me and touch me. It was unfair of me to assume you are your reputation.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not like I made it easy for you to believe me.”

You chuckled and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Well, I do now.” Your eyes locked with his and a new fire lit within them. 

“Good.” He smirked and then rolled you over so that you were straddling his waist. The cool wooden floor hit his bare back as you had bunched his shirt up on the way, now pulling it over his head and revealing your satisfied stare when your hands traced over his abs.

You shook your head and released a breath. “Shame on me for refusing this for so long.” Your fingers passed his happy trail and began working on his belt. Bucky’s thumbs stroked your thighs as he watched you undress him, the tent in his pants ever so present and growing with every brush of your fingers. 

“Don’t worry, dove. We have all the time in the world to make up for it.” When his pants were off he pulled you forward again, kissing you ferociously. “‘Cause I’m not planning on leaving.”

You smirked and ground down on his cock, interrupting his speech and ripping a guttural sound from his chest. 

He had been holding back. Ever since you'd dragged him into that shelter, he had not touched a woman, because you had him hooked the second you had taken his hand on the way. And now he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from coming in his boxers like a school boy. 

“Are you getting nervous, Bucky?” You grinned and moved again to tease him a little more.

“Can you blame me?” He clenched his jaw when you rocked forward again, his hand stilling your hips with a near-bruising grip. “I’ve wanted you ever since I stepped foot in your shop.”

“You did?” Your head cocked to the side, surprise washing over your face and his dick twitched making Bucky’s cheeks heat up. 

“Yes...” He confessed only to be attacked with your kisses again. He groaned and bucked his hips up until you were a moaning mess on top of him. His hands reached around you, settling on your ass and giving it a small clap. 

“Hand me my walled, baby. It’s in my pants.”

“Why?”

“We need a condom if you don’t want to keep dry-humping me.” He smirked, knowing, feeling there was nothing dry about this anymore. Your arousal was already drenching his boxers. The slick pushing him close to losing it. 

“It’s okay. We don’t have to, I have an IUD.” 

“As much as I want to, we should be safe...” Bucky swallowed and averted his eyes in regret. “Have to get tested again.”

“Oh, ok.” You were disappointed, he could tell. And Bucky was too. It was the first time he ever regretted all his one-night stands because he would kill to fuck you raw and feel all of you. And as hazy as your body made him, he could not ignore the fact that he did have several different sex partners before. It would have to wait a few weeks. And when he would come back clean, he would keep you in the bedroom for a week straight.

You must have noticed his misery because you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Then you scooched back and retrieved the condom from his wallet. Bucky held his breath when your fingers hooked into his waistband. And when you pulled them down, his cock stood proud and thick with precum already pearling from his tip. 

He reached for the shiny packet in your hand but you pulled your arm up, your eyes stuck on his cock. “Let me.”

“Okay,” he breathed out as he watched you rip the packet. His shaft twitched when your careful hands rolled the condom over him, another bead of precum dripping into the condom and before he could collect himself, you rubbed your pussy all over him, coating him in your arousal. 

Bucky’s hands turned into fists at your sides as he watched you finally sink down on him - inch by inch, your heat welcomed him, his body sparking with pleasure all over. You moaned in unison when he was fully seated inside you, his cock being hugged tightly in your warmth - he’d barely held it together then. 

You planted your hands on his abdomen and rocked forward, sending the both of you reeling. It took a second for Bucky to collect himself. His eyes closed and his nose huffing, he reminded himself of what he had promised you and what he wanted his first time with you to be. When he opened his eyes again, his hands moved over your body with determination. One setting over your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers, the other began tracing tight circles on your clit. 

Your head fell back, a vision of ecstasy and pleasure unfolding before him when he sent you over the edge a second time. He slowed your hips on his and rubbed your pussy with his thumb. He needed you to come again. And then again, and he had to hold out for that long. But the way your chest heaved, the light sheen of sweat forming on your skin, made his plan more than difficult. 

It took all of Bucky’s willpower to pull you off his cock and push you to his legs. He sat up and kissed up your neck until he reached your lips. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you what you asked for.” He mumbled against your skin and then licked over your nipple, the other being caressed by his fingers. His free hand found its place right between your legs again and when you moaned lowly, he slipped two fingers inside you. 

Your pussy was squelching, the lewd sound traveling across the living room as Bucky worked you towards another release. You were already squirming in his hands again. Your fists pulled at his roots, sending a shiver straight to his cock when you leaned his head back. “You’re amazing.” Your breath was hot, fanning over his lips only to be replaced by them again. His tongue slipped inside and mimicking the movement of his fingers in your pussy. 

“Right back at ya, dove. I can't wait to be inside you again.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“For you to come again.” He bit your lip and sped up his fingers already feeling you squeeze him tightly. “So you’re satiated when I come deep inside you, feeling you squeeze me with that perfect pussy of yours until you see stars.”

“Shitshitshit. I’m coming!” A series of curses flew past him when you pulsed around his fingers, gushing all over his hand and lap until he finished rocking you through your third orgasm. 

“Fuck,” Bucky licked your juices off his fingers and his eyes rolled back into his head. 

“I don’t think I have another in me, Bucky.”

“Don’t worry, love. I got you.” And with that he hooked your legs around his waist, falling forward until you were with your back to the floor, Bucky hovering over you and aligning his length with your entrance. 

He couldn’t wait anymore, in one swift motion, Bucky fully bottomed out until his balls hit your ass. And when he was confident you were comfortable, he set a relentless pace. He had been on the edge this entire time. You had almost made him come just having him watch you let go. But there was nothing like the feeling of your pussy hugging him tightly, your body writhing beneath his, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and nails raking down his back. 

“You feel so good,” he grunted and you just moaned in response.

“Look at me, please.” His hand turned your face. “I need to see you.” 

Bucky snapped his hips into yours even faster, your walls already clenching tightly around him and he threatened to burst. Your eyes opened and fell to his and Bucky couldn’t stop his orgasm from ripping through him anymore. His strokes stuttered, his balls tightened, but he held eye contact with you, searching your hand behind his back to lock your fingers with his. 

The white pleasure exploded within him, elevated by your own peak hitting with full force. He kissed you then, feeling like he was somewhere between heaven and your living room floor. His mind was consumed by you, his body tingling in aftershocks as he rocked you through your highs. 

His damp chest fell into yours when you came down. He rolled on his back, taking you with him, pressed deeply into his body, his cock still buried inside you. Bucky’s chest was heaving, the last remnants of pleasure sparkling in his nerves. He kissed your hand and cuddled you closer. 

This was what he was made for. To be with you, to be consumed by your affection and warmth. 

He smoothed over your head and felt your lashes flutter on his skin. His heart was blooming with contentment - all the fear he’d felt to commit was miles away, lost somewhere between the Ironbar and your doorstep. There was nothing he was more sure of. 

“Let me do this right. Let me take you out.” He whispered into your hair with a smile, trying to remember a time he’d ever been this happy. 

You snorted as your hand gently stroked over his chest. “Bucky, you’re literally ballsdeep inside of me right now.”

Bucky chuckled as well, his hand rubbed down your bare back in a soothing motion when he kissed your head. “Nothing like a convincing argument, huh.”

You already know your girl couldn't decide which GIF to use. So here are the extra ones:

Woooow, you've made it this far! Thank you so much 💕 If you have some time to spare, I would reaaaally appreciate some feedback from you. A comment or a reblog can help so much to reach more people and improve writing. Talk to you soon ~Meg 💞

Wanna be added to the taglist?

@circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200 @buckyseddie @adoreyouusugar @km-ffluv @mcu21lover19 @almosttoopizza @royalwritersoftheuniverses @i-l-y-3000 @mrsgweasley @prettylittlepluviophile @dinwifey @stuckysgirl27 @wintermischief @broadwaybabe18 @fridayiaminlove @buckybarnessimpp @goodkittyspost @justafangir1 @simpxinnie @blackhawkfanatic @augustbucky @kandis-mom @harleycao @ashhsage @hhiggs @scott-loki-barnes @gabshouse @barnes1031 @am-3-thyst @awkotaco24 @fangirl-swagg @she-wolf09231982

also tagging my steve tags (for everyone who wanted an update on Bambi) 🤗 :

[intoxicated-chan]

angsty fight between miguel and wife!reader

and then they make up yayayayay

Give Me Reasons We Should Be Complete

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel has been pushing you away for some time now. After a talk with a friend, you and Miguel try to sort things out.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “DANCING IN THE DARK” by Joji. Writing this made me think back on past crushes/lovers. But thank you for your request! I am also holding back on writing smut because it keeps getting labeled and it takes me longer to write.

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.4k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, angst-to-fluff, swearing, Miguel is kinda a dick head, mentions of sleep deprivation…

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

You stood in his cold and dark office. The best source of light was his laptop but his huge frame blocked most of the light. You managed around the crumbled paper and thrown desk objects with a plate in hand.

“Miguel?” You peer over his shoulder, “I made you dinner.”

He nods.

“You know you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

He nods again.

“And you know that you’ve been here for a long time. I think it’s best for you to-”

“Take a break?” Miguel interrupts you, “I don’t have time for that.”

“Miguel, I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait a few minutes. All I’m asking is for you to eat something.” You try to set the plate down.

“I thought I made it clear that I do not want to be bothered. You’re distracting me. Leave.”

He didn’t mean it like that… He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that…

“But Mig-”

“I said go.” He growls, his eyes turning its blood red from anger, “You’re becoming a nuisance.”

He didn’t mean it like that.

“Okay.” You tried not to let the crack in your voice show. You didn’t even bother to leave the plate behind because you knew it was going to be wasted.

“And don’t bother me again.” You heard him say as you left his office.

You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down before you burst into tears. But your hands shook, nearly dropping the plate.

You choked down your sobs and let your tears fall, the plate was left in the fridge, and you pushed yourself to your bedroom. It was basically yours now since Miguel was sleeping in his office.

The sheets no longer lingered on his cologne and any sign of his presence was gone, other than his clothing and a few photos. The room has become a mess of discarded clothing, old plates and cups, and candy wrappers.

How long has it been since Miguel showed affection? Or even looked at you?

This was normal behavior for Miguel, right? You should know, you’re married to him. You’re his wife. But he experienced loss, unlike you. You didn’t want to judge him for how he deals with his emotions, he’s emotionally distant. You knew that from the start.

And because of this, you felt like he deserved more than what you could give him. It’s what kept you going through the many times Miguel tore your heart, how it squeezed in pain at his actions and words. How you look the other way and ignore his hurtful words.

You couldn’t sleep. You left the still cold bed and dressed in something warm and headed up to the roof.

You sat on the edge, looking at Nueva York. How beautiful it looked during the night, which is one of the reasons why you liked sitting up here.

“Sitting all by yourself?” You tense up only to relax when you know that voice, “At this time? All alone?” Peter B. lands next to you, his daughter in his arms.

“I would ask my husband to join me but he’s too busy.” You respond truthfully.

“Again? He’s been at this all week.” He sits next to you.

“Yeah.” You huff.

“And… how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.” He offers Mayday who reaches out to you.

You take her and set her down on your lap, “I just don’t know what to do, everything I do seems to bother Miguel. Checking up on him, bringing him food. It feels like he’s doing this on purpose.”

“Miguel’s always been difficult and from the time I spent with him… He’s different, not like the rest of us. He’s accepted his fate as Spider-Man and believes he’s destined for bad things 24/7. But good things do come along, like you. I think… I think he’s trying to come to terms that he can get it because he deserves it.”

Mayday coos, pulling at your hair, “And I think Miguel is scared. He puts on his tough act because he has to, yet he’s afraid to admit he’s scared. Normally, people would’ve given up on him. Why haven’t you?

“Till death do us part. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t give up on him because when you love someone, you love them every single day as who they are.”

“Talk about romantic.”

“Oh please.” You look down at Mayday, “Plus I think-”

“There you are.” You jump and this time, you remain tense, “I was looking for you.”

“Now you’re looking for me?” You respond, refusing to turn your head.

“It’s late, (Y/n). It’s dangerous.”

“I’m here, she’s alright.” Mayday jumps into her father’s arms.

“I’ve already had enough of you. Please, (Y/n).”

“It’s fine.” You tell him, following Miguel inside.

You head to the bedroom, “Where are you going?”

“Bed.”

“(Y/n)-”

“I’m tired and I do not want to be bothered. That includes you too, Miguel.”

“Excuse me?” He follows you into the bedroom.

“You heard me.”

“Please, (Y/n), talk to me.” Miguel begs.

“I’m sorry, did you just say talk? Like I have been trying to do for the past week?”

“(Y/n)-”

“You know what? No, no. You do not get to try to get me to talk after all of this. I have been trying, I have been all in. All I asked of you was to look after yourself.”

“I know.”

“You know? You KNOW?” You scoff rather loudly, “Did you know that Lyla has even talked to me about your behavior? I’m worried about you Miguel. All the damn time, even more when I see you not eating and staying up all night. All I ask is one minute, one bite of the damn food.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Is sorry all you have to say? Not even a half assed excuse?” You see Miguel trying to form a sentence but nothing leaves his left and his head hangs low, “I need to be alone.”

You walk past him but he grabs your arm, “Please don’t leave.” He says, “Please don’t walk out that door.”

“I’m sleeping on the couch, you could have the bed.” You look up at him.

“I love you, (Y/n). I know I don’t say it as much but I fucking love you. He’s right, you know. I am scared. Scared of everything. Because at first, I didn’t think I could have that, have you. You let me hurt you and that is unforgivable.”

He’s crying. Looking right at you, letting himself be bare right in front of you. His grip on your arm loosens and his hands come up to your face, cupping your cheeks. You could hear his staggered breathing, trying to keep himself composed.

“But I wasn’t lying when I said I love you, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted a family, and I wasn’t lying when I said that you make me believe in love.”

“I’m always here for you, Miguel. You don’t have to go through things alone, but when you want to, I’m here.” You take one of his hands into yours, pulling it away from your face but keeping a tight hold on it.

“It’s not that easy. I hurt you, I understand why you don’t want to.”

“I love you, Miguel. We’ll work on this. I promise you.” After a moment, Miguel practically tackles you, nearly falling to the ground. The hug is tight and warm, and you could feel your shirt become wet with Miguel’s tears.

“You’re okay, right?” His voice cracks as he speaks through his sobs, “Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I promise you, I am okay.” You whisper.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“You can start by getting some rest. But you’ve got a lot of apologies O’Hara.”

You don’t know how long you and Miguel stayed like this, nor did you care. All you cared about was Miguel and he felt complete at last.

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform with permission.

[kamaluhkhan]

THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window. 

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer. 

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.” 

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous. 

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?” 

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in. 

“what? n-no!” 

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you. 

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

 so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp. 

it just didn't seem fair. 

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods. 

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest. 

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest. 

every  demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they  didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself. 

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?” 

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching. 

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.” 

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.” 

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze. 

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too. 

“she deserved more.” 

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there. 

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do. 

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise. 

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.” 

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm. 

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.  

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day. 

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.” 

luke bristled at your nickname for him. 

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go. 

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.  

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in. 

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly. 

 the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again. 

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down. 

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse. 

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled. 

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” 

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.  

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning. 

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone? 

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one. 

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward." 

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you. 

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp. 

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.  

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready. 

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him. 

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through. 

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him. 

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood. 

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased. 

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess. 

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson. 

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?” 

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken. 

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.” 

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer. 

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.  

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too. 

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time. 

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more. 

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips. 

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die. 

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy. 

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away. 

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze. 

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse. 

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse. 

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.” 

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality. 

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie. 

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat. 

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him. 

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for. 

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did. 

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it. 

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair. 

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates. 

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes. 

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.” 

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes. 

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that. 

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you. 

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?” 

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush. 

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….” 

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right. 

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for. 

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached. 

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?” 

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?” 

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him. 

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.” 

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said. 

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow. 

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air. 

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch. 

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion. 

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp. 

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him. 

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment. 

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door. 

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire. 

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.  

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god. 

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy. 

everything was falling into place. 

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.  

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you. 

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles. 

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist. 

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him. 

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey. 

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy. 

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?” 

 “they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true. 

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him. 

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it. 

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down. 

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet. 

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog. 

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more. 

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously. 

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated. 

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind. 

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated. 

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well. 

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.” 

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe! 

would you hate him, if you knew? 

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage. 

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?” 

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns. 

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.” 

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment. 

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips. 

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe. 

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his. 

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath. 

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time. 

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted. 

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor. 

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock. 

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.” 

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being. 

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.” 

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.  

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone.  we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance. 

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor. 

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape. 

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice. 

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head. 

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life. 

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.