#yes you're on a train but also no you're not the train is a city

[vizslasaber]

FRIENDLY FIRE ──── ii.

SUMMARY | The mission continues, and with it, your growing suspicion of Krell’s authoritarian methods. But the troopers relying on you—including Rex—lead you in the right direction: one of unyielding kindness, even when it’s hard.

PAIRING | Captain Rex x female Jedi!reader

WORD COUNT | 3.7k

WARNINGS | Combat/action, mentions of injury & death, Krell being a bitch as usual, gender neutral use of the term “sir,” gratuitous use of Mando’a, and one (1) curse word. Also, a Shakespeare reference because I’m a historian & couldn’t help myself.

A/N | Yay, chapter 2! As you'll probably notice, I changed the reader's story a little bit, and I like it better now as it adds more tension to the plot. Enjoy!

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST | TAGLIST | NAVIGATION | AO3

For once, you’re glad to have woken up early. It gives you time to get in a pep talk you know will motivate the men rather than bring their morale down, as you know Krell’s speech—which he gave upon arrival—would have done.

“Alright, men,” you call briskly, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face as you pace back and forth in front of the battalion. “You would all do well to remember that it’s not just the safety of the Republic relying on our success—the other battalions have placed their trust in us. Generals Kenobi and Tiin will stop approximately two kilometers outside the capital city, waiting for us to get close enough to begin our initial assault.”

You glance at Rex, who’s standing beside you, and nod for him to continue.

The Captain steps forward. “We’re about elevens klick behind them right now, and fifteen klicks from the capital,” he says. “We’ve got to make good time—and it’s going to be hard, what with the enemies we’re sure to meet along the way. The native population doesn’t play around, and neither do their weapons capabilities. Is that understood?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” comes a unanimous shout from the rest of the troopers. They start to disperse, packing up camp faster than your eyes can follow, and you nod to yourself in satisfaction.

“Rex,” you start, then hesitate as he turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “Is it… are you alright with forgoing titles? I always seem to forget to use them.”

Rex looks almost torn—likely between protocol and what you’re asking—but eventually nods. “Of course, sir,” he says, then blanches. “I mean…”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I just don’t want to feel bad if I slip up.” He smiles slightly, one corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “As I was saying—do you have a chief medical officer that I can talk to?”

“Yeah, that would be Kix,” Rex tells you, then frowns. “Is… everything alright?”

“Yes, don’t worry.” You adjust one vambrace, looking out at the men, then at General Krell on the far side of camp, who’s been surveying the battalion tempestuously since you began to speak. “I just… wanted to ask him something. About battlefield medicine.”

“Are you a medic?” Rex asks, shifting his helmet to one hand.

You grimace at the clinical, militaristic term. “Something like that.”

Rex looks doubtful, but motions to a trooper with an intricately buzzed haircut who's putting supplies into a pack. "Kix—get over here!" he calls, before nodding to you and leaving as he puts on his helmet.

"General," the trooper greets with a crisp salute, and you notice that his pauldrons have the universal sign for medic painted on them in a bright, obvious red. "How can I help you?"

"Actually," you say with what you hope is a courteous smile, "I was hoping to ask you the same question. You're the battalion's CMO right?"

Kix tilts his head. "Yeah..." he says. "I'm not the only medic, though. Got a whole team of 'em. We specialize in what we do, sir, train for it our whole lives, so I don't want to be rude, but—"

"Don't worry about that," you cut in, shaking your head. "I'm not a medic—I haven't been trained in combative tactics—but I am a healer."

"So, like," Kix pauses, searching for the right word as he does so, "a Jedi doctor?"

You snort. "That's... one term for it, yes." You watch as Kix moves the weight of his medpack from one shoulder to the other. "Force healing is an ability that a Jedi is born with. Not every Jedi can become a healer—using the Force to reverse the effects of an injury is not something that can be learned."

There's a pause as Kix nods slowly. "Reversing the effects," he echoes, fascinated. "Even bacta can't do that—it just speeds up the healing process. Sounds like we could use your help."

"Yes," you say. "That's why I wanted to speak with you." You let out a sigh, remembering one of the first things your master told you as a Padawan. "But it's not all-powerful. Just like bacta can only heal what is able to be healed, Force healing cannot create a life force where there isn't one. If someone is near-death, trying to bring them back would render me unable to defend myself from exhaustion."

"Right," Kix replies. "So no resurrection."

"No resurrection," you affirm, smiling. "But I can help. And I know triage."

"Oh, that's even better!" Kix exclaims, then holds out his wrist comm. "Here—we've got a medic frequency—" he waits for you to scan his comm to yours, and when the happy little chime sounds, he pulls away. "Thank you, General."

"Of course," you say as he turns to leave. "And thank you, Kix."

The battalion falls silent and prepares to move out—but just as you’re double checking your armour, a cold, sharp presence casts a shadow over you. Turning around, you make eye contact with General Krell, who's now standing just a short ways from where you and Kix were talking—like he was listening.

“Conspiring with the soldiers, General?” Krell sneers, putting a mocking emphasis on the last word. You raise an irritated eyebrow.

“Conspiring?” you repeat, glancing at the hastily assembling troopers. “They're hardly the enemy, Master Krell. I only want us to win this campaign as quickly and smoothly as possible." Before you can reign in your impulse control, you add, "And continuing to let the troopers rest will get us there faster."

“Rest is a luxury we cannot afford!” Krell snaps, and you jump in surprise at his excessive volume. He leans forward, acrid breath forcing you to resist the urge to cough. “The other battalions are far ahead of us, and you think we have time.”

“We do,” you reply calmly, despite your quickening heartbeat. “The men are keeping a good pace, especially with this difficult terrain. Fifteen clicks isn't far, especially with the supplies we have.” You purse your lips. “Now, I suggest we set off. Talking will slow us down as well, Master—and as you so wisely pointed out, luxuries are not something we can ask for.”

You walk away, then, and feel a rush of satisfaction enveloped in a Force signature that you’re almost positive belongs to Rex. Resisting a pleased smile, you let your hands drift to where your lightsabers are clipped to your belt before moving to walk beside Rex.

“Captain,” you greet, taking notice of the way Rex’s shoulders tense just slightly. “Shall we?”

“Yes, General,” Rex replies, voice clipped. He motions for the battalion to follow, and soon the two of you, along with a still angry General Krell, are leading the troopers through the unwelcoming terrain of Umbara.

The journey is precarious and—as much as you hate to admit it—tiring. Hours pass, and soon you’re almost to the checkpoint Rex had pointed out on the map, situated just outside the city’s heavily fortified border.

You stop for a moment, leaning against the glowing trunk of a colossal tree, and fidget anxiously with the tabards of your tunic.

“Sir,” Rex says, and you turn around. “We’re ready to bring our forward platoons in. What do you suggest?”

“We should continue with Anakin’s original plan,” you say quietly. “A surgical strike on the outer defenses—we must take great care not to needlessly damage any of the city’s buildings. I'd prefer minimal collateral damage when we’re done.”

It is a plan you’ve been turning over in your head since you’d landed on the Umbaran surface. Hopefully—and assuming there were no hindrances—it would succeed. Despite being overly idealistic, and sometimes a little too impulsive, Anakin is nothing if not a strategist—when he wants to be.

“If I may,” sneers Krell from behind you, and you set your jaw. “I do not think that General Skywalker’s futile plan will be necessary.”

In spite of yourself, you clench your fists at your sides. “And why not?” you grit out, not bothering to turn around as Krell comes to stand at your side, towering over your figure.

“Captain Rex and his insolent men have already brought it up with me, and I explained this to them as well. I hold the authority here, and I am ordering all platoons to execute a full-frontal assault,” Krell continues, seemingly unfazed by your irritated expression. “We will travel along the main route to the city and force them to yield.”

“Force them to—” you cut yourself off and draw in a deep, calming breath. There is no emotion, you remind yourself vehemently. There is only peace. “Master Krell. With all due respect, we can't just storm in there with no plan. Casualties will rocket if we try something that impulsive. I just don't think—”

“Need I remind you, General Neridian,” Krell interrupts scathingly, “that you are only one week into Knighthood? We may be of equal military rank, but I am a Master, and therefore hold precedence over your commands.”

“This isn’t about me or you,” you hiss, swiveling to face Krell as your patience is finally pulled taut. Ignoring the shocked stares you know the troopers have fixed on you, you cross your arms. “It’s about this campaign. It's about our mission, and it's bigger than us. So I suggest we agree to disagree, and carry on with General Skywalker’s plan—”

Krell clicks his tongue. “Losing your temper already?" He asks, and you could swear he's taunting you, waiting to see when you'll do something mortifying like raise your voice (but then again, he's done it several times already and it's only been a day). "How unfortunate. Perhaps the Council should not have been so adamant that you face the Trials so early."

You blink and take a step back. He's right, and you know it. You're one of the youngest Padawans to face the Trials in generations, as are all your peers, thrust into a rushed end to your training at the beginning of the war. So many of your friends—Darra, Galene, Ferus, and of course, Anakin, the most tenacious of them all—seem to have risen to this unique challenge with their heads held high. But all you can seem to do is flinch away from the ugly parts, the parts that remind you of just how unprepared you are for these new and daunting responsibilities.

Unclenching your fists, you swallow the bile in your throat and try to stop your hands from trembling. “The Council,” you say, voice tight, "made their choice. And so must I make mine." You turn to Rex, who's standing just behind you and gripping his helmet with both hands. “Captain—prepare the troops. We’re going with General Skywalker’s plan.”

“I…” Rex’s knuckles have gone white with how hard he’s clutching his helmet, and he looks strangely helpless. “I’m sorry, General, but—the regs state that General Krell outranks you due to his status as a Jedi Master.” He presses his lips together and averts his gaze from yours, cheeks red with what you know is anger. “I’m afraid that General Krell’s orders do indeed… take precedence over yours.”

Beside you, Krell looks more satisfied than you’ve ever seen him. The Besalisk turns to the battalion and crosses his upper set of arms over his chest.

“Troopers!” he barks, and the soldiers stand at attention simultaneously. “Prepare to move out!” He presses a button on his wrist comm, and a holomap flickers to life. “You will take the main road straight to the capital. You will not stop and you will not turn back, regardless of the resistance you meet. We will attack them with all our troops—not some sneak attack with a few men.”

You close your eyes and clasp your hands behind your back. There is no emotion, there is peace.

It feels less like a mantra and more like a meaningless, empty chant. Peace, you think despairingly, looks to be farther than ever.

"Sir." Rex clears his throat, making you look up to see him watching Krell like one might survey a blown fuse at risk of setting fire to a building. "Sir, General Neridian is right. This is practically a suicide mission. I don't think—"

“What you think, Captain, is irrelevent. You have my orders, and you will follow them explicitly,” Krell growls, then leans forward, turning to the Captain. “Do I make myself clear, CT-7567?”

Your eyes widen in shock and you glare at Krell, crossing your own arms over your chest to mimic Krell’s stance. “It’s Rex, General,” you snap. “Captain Rex. That’s how he introduced himself, if you've forgotten?”

Many troopers turn to you, and you can tell—even under their helmets—that they’re clearly surprised at your derisive tone. You ignore them, turn on your heel, and storm away, but not before you hear Rex mutter, “Crystal, General Krell.”

The path is lit with some form of concentrated bioluminescent light, making it easier for you to see where you’re going. The clones have the advantage of night vision built into their visors, which makes it hard not to envy them. That alone, that feeling so unbecoming of a Jedi is enough to make you feel a sting of shame, not unlike the feeling that so often came with a scolding from Master Venn when you were still a Padawan.

You wonder for the millionth time if you’ve been forced into Knighthood too soon. Of course, there is nothing to do about that now—every war needs warrior, after all—just like there was nothing you could do when Master Venn told you the news just one week years ago.

She was grim when she told you, and your stomach goes cold with the memory of how she delivered the news, like she was handing you your own death sentence. Now, you know why.

And some have greatness thrust upon them, you think bitterly, remembering how often Master Venn made you read ancient poetry as a Padawan, the kind so old it's still stored on dusty books instead of firmware.

“General.”

You turn to find that Rex has fallen into step with you and smile. “Captain,” you acknowledge. “Forgive me. I was just…” you clear your throat. “Lost in thought.”

Rex—now wearing his helmet—nods and turns his gaze to the path ahead. “Thinking about the plan?”

“No,” you admit sheepishly. “Just about—” you gesture vaguely to your surroundings “—all of this. This war, this strife.” Shaking your head, you fidget with the one of the lightsaber hooks on your belt, clasping and unclasping it. “How fast I've been thrown in, and whether or not it’s necessary.”

“Hm.” You can hear the frown in Rex’s voice. “If it’s any consolation, we clones have mixed feelings about the war, too.”

You raise an eyebrow and turn to look at him. “How so?”

He gives a one-shouldered shrug and turns his head away. “Just that… well, I’d rather do without all the lives lost, but... without it, we wouldn’t exist, would we?”

Frowning, you consider this. “I suppose you’re right,” you concede. “But it is the will of the Force that you came to be. And,” you add, shooting Rex a sly smile, “the galaxy would be very different if you hadn’t, hm?”

There’s a moment of silence, during which you get the feeling that the troopers behind you are listening to your conversation. Rex seems lost for words, until he clears his throat. “Me specifically, sir?” You nod, and Rex adjusts his helmet. “I—I don’t know. I’m just one man, aren’t I?”

“That may be so, Captain, but you’ve made more of a difference than you think,” you inform him. “I think I’m correct in assuming that you’ve saved General Skywalker’s arse more times than he alone can count.”

Behind you, someone lets out a surprised laugh, then tries to cover it up as a cough. You smile at Rex and continue.

“And even without that, you’re responsible for many of the Republic’s victories in this war.” You shake your head. “The smallest insect feeding off of a single flower’s nectar has an impact on the entire garden. In the Force, we are all an entire world, a whole galaxy. Never assume that you do not make a difference.”

You feel a ripple of shock, gratitude, and something else—something you can’t quite place—flow through the Force. It’s a refreshing change from the tension and stress of the mission, and you’re just about to open your mouth to thank Rex when—

A white-hot warning flashes in the Force, and there’s a split-second warning as you scan your surroundings for the threat. Then—

“Get back!” you shout, and the troopers in your immediate vicinity immediately scramble off of the path.

They’re just in time—the sheer force of the explosion is enough to knock you off your feet and send you flying backwards. You land on something hard and feel all of the air get knocked out of you.

“Mines!” someone shouts. “Nobody on the path move!”

You freeze as you realize that the surface you landed on is, in fact, Rex—specifically, his armour. Your back is pressed to his chest plate, and you can feel his nervousness as though it is your own, but neither of you move for fear of setting off another mine.

Your cheeks burn when Rex finally leans forward, void of his helmet—it must have been knocked off it the blast. He's close enough to your ear to whisper, “Left. Slowly.”

It sends chills down your spine, but you shake them off. Drawing in a deep breath, you oblige, easing left and onto your knees, so you’re kneeling beside a disoriented-looking Rex. He looks shaken, but quickly gathers himself and cautiously stands up as he scans the area for his helmet.

“Oz is down,” you hear one of the medics say grimly. “So is Ringo.”

Rex spares you one last glance before swooping down to pick up his helmet, brushing the dirt off the visor. He moves to inspect the dead troopers. “Can you sweep ‘em?”

For a long moment, there’s silence as the medics gently move the bodies aside—you respectfully avert your eyes, feeling the sting of grief from the other troopers—and set them down on the side of the path. You hear Kix declare happily that there are no injured despite the two casualties and smile to yourself.

There’s no time to bury the dead troopers, so you settle for approaching Rex and placing a hand on his tense shoulder, over his pauldron with fading and scratched blue paint. “Nu kyr'adyc,” you murmur. “Shi taab'echaaj'la."

Not gone, merely marching far away.

Rex turns his head, and this close, you can see his wide eyes through the visor of his helmet. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, then raises his hand and places it over yours. It lasts for a split-second; the next thing you know, he’s pulling away, talking quietly to Fives and Kix.

“Come on, men,” you call to the rest of the battalion. “We need to—”

Chills fly up your spine and you stiffen, just as a loud, shrieking sound engulfs the path and—BOOM! More troopers go flying into the air. There are shouts of Basic, Mando’a, and Umbaran, and the firefight begins, during which you realize—

An ambush. You draw one lightsaber to deflect an oncoming barrage of blasterfire, but it's not enough, and there's no cover afforded to the terrain.

“Shit," you mutter under your breath as you switch on your shoto saber, calling on your knowledge of Jar'Kai to deflect the bolts with both blades. You raise your voice and call over your shoulder. "We’re fully exposed! Retreat to the forest!”

“We can’t, General!” shouts a voice, and you turn to see a blue-painted helmet accented with a small red arrow: Fives. “They’re coming from all directions—” he grunts and fires another blast “—we don’t have any cover!”

You feel your blood run cold. There’s no way for you to retreat—and it’s all Krell’s fault.

“We need them to follow us!” Rex answers, standing with his back to yours as he fires his blasters rapidly. “If we can draw them out, we can see them—and if we can see them, we can hit them!”

“Good idea,” you breathe, even though you know it’s too loud for Rex to hear you. Raising your voice, you lift one lightsaber so the other troopers can see the path. “All squads, pull back now!” You close your eyes for a moment to call on the Force, then propel yourself upwards and leap through the air so you’re at the back of the group. “I’ll take the rear! Cover me—sword and shield maneuver!”

The troopers obey, and soon you find yourself at the center of a tight semicircle formed by clones, all firing mercilessly on the Umbaran soldiers. You bite your lip and shift to Soresu to parallel the blasterfire more easily, deflecting the barrage as quickly and efficiently as you possibly can.

Just behind you is an AT-RT walker, defending your flank. Beside you is a trooper with intricately painted markings on his helmet, firing a rotary cannon and shouting, “Ha-ha! Where you goin’? Get back here, you wimps!”

You grin at his sheer audacity. “Careful there, trooper,” you admonish playfully, deflecting another blaster shot.

“They’re falling back!” Fives shouts, then, and you can hear the smile in his voice. The troopers all holster their blasters while you hook your lightsaber onto your belt.

“CT-7567, do you have a malfunction in your design?” You turn around and raise your eyebrows as Krell approaches Rex, looking furious. “You’ve pulled your forces back from taking the capital city. The enemy now has control of this route. This entire operation has been compromised because of your failure!”

You feel your hands start to shake. “Master Krell,” you say, trying your best to remain calm, “I gave the order to pull back, not Rex. We were completely surrounded and couldn’t risk losing any more men.”

Krell, looking furious at worst and disgruntled at best, saying nothng. Seizing the opportunity to walk away, you turn on your heel and breathe through the anger, urging yourself to keep going, trying to find a quiet place to rest and meditate for just a few minutes.

And you do. Closing your eyes, you lean against the firm trunk of a glowing tree, wiping sweat from your brow. It’s quiet, and you can hear the steady chirping of crickets (or something else) in the phosphorescent grass.

“General Krell,” says a trooper’s voice. It’s more firmthan Rex’s—Fives, you're pretty sure. “In case you haven’t noticed, Captain Rex just saved this platoon. Surely you won’t fail to recognize that.”

Blinking in surprise, you start to return to the group, wondering if this is an argument you’ll be able to break up—but the hum of a lightsaber being drawn makes you stop in your tracks.

“ARC-5555,” Krell growls. “Stand down.”

You feel your mouth go dry and approach the other troopers. Krell is standing with his back to you, but you can clearly see the green blade of his lightsaber from where you stand, hovering next to Fives's neck. If only Esya could see this, you think, horrified.

Don’t make any sudden moves, your Master’s teachings remind you. He could strike, and then you’d be responsible for the death of yet another man.

Just after the tense conversation between Fives and Krell, the Umbarans returned, sparking yet another firefight—this one with more casualties than the last. You were forced to retreat with the platoons, exhausted and spent.

Now, you sit on the ground, leaning against a fallen tree trunk in a brief moment of rest while the troopers drive away a small squad of Umbarans. In your hand is a pocket holotransmitter, refracting a cluster of blue light in the form of Esya Venn.

“I feel your discomfort from here, young one,” the older Theelin Master is saying, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

“Impossible,” you scoff. “You’re all the way on Coruscant, there’s no way.” There’s a moment of silence, during which the hologram flickers. You add, “And I’m not so young anymore, you know.”

Esya smiles wanly—you notice the shadows under her normally bright eyes with a pang of sadness—and shakes her head, her long colorful hair swishing lightly.

“You're still young to me,” she says softly, gently. "And you're avoiding the subject."

“I’m fine, Master,” you sigh. “Really.”

"You must not know me as well as I thought," Esya replies primly, a hint of a smile showing through her stern expression, "if you think you can lie to me like that."

You sigh again, frowning down at the flickering hologram. "It's just..." you shake your head, staring off into the foggy distance. "I'm concerned about Master Krell's tactics. They're aggressive, nothing like what you taught me of strategy, and they don't take into account the fact that we need to strive for as little casualties as possible—on both sides."

"Hm." Esya crosses her arms. "I have heard of Master Krell's... unconventional style. Is there anything else that concerns you about him?"

"I mean—everything, really," you admit, lowering your voice. "He has a blatant disregard for life that I haven't seen in a Jedi in, well... ever. He refers to the clones by their birth numbers, not their names, and he sees the native fauna as just—objects. Nuisances." You place the holotransmitter on the ground in front of you and shift your sitting position. "I fear that, to him, no life is sacred."

"If that were the case, I do not think the Council would have granted him the rank of Master," Esya says, but she looks thoughtful, like there's something she isn't saying. "Who is the commanding officer?"

"His name is Captain Rex," you say. "He's Anakin's first-in-command. I think he's just as worried by Master Krell as I am, and..." you trail off, unsure how to voice your next thought.

"What is it?" Esya prompts, light eyebrows raised.

"There's something about him—about Rex," you say finally, reluctant. "It's like the Force is trying to tell me something. That—that he's important. But I can't figure out why." You huff, fighting back a frustrated scowl. "I wish the Force would just tell me. But the answer is so—so elusive."

"As is everything since the start of this war," Esya replies, shaking her thorned head. She fixes you with a fond expression. "But, Padawan... you must remember that the Force is not your enemy, but your ally. If you open your eyes, it will show you the way."

"Yes," you murmur, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. The sounds of talking from the group's position behind you make you frown. "I have to go. May the Force be with you, Master."

“And with you. Always,” Esya replies before cutting off the connection seconds later.

You stand, tucking the transmitter into your pocket, then make for the rest of the group and move to stand beside Captain Rex. He's observing General Krell talk to General Kenobi via comlink.

“The capital city’s too fortified,” General Kenobi is saying grimly. “We still need your battalion to help us take it.”

“Resistance from the Umbarans has been greater than anticipated,” Krell replies. “We’re holding our ground at the moment.”

You swallow, averting your gaze to your boots. Holding our ground… what does Krell think is happening? Surely he hasn’t failed to notice the heavy casualties your battalion is sustaining.

“We’ve gathered intel on an airbase to the west,” General Kenobi replies. “It is resupplying the capital’s defenses.”

Taking a step forward, you cross your arms over your chest. “Should we attempt to take control of the airbase, then?”

Turning to you, General Kenobi nods. “Yes,” he answers. “Doing so will sever the capital’s supply lines, allowing the rest of our forces to move in.”

“I’ll see to it that the airbase is placed under our control,” Krell says decisively. It sends a wave of nausea through your stomach.

“Remember, Master Krell; Knight Neridian,” Kenobi says, mouth pulling into a tight frown, “The entire invasion depends on your battalion.”

Krell nods and severs the connection, then turns to you. “Neridian, have those coordinates mapped when you’re finished here, and make sure all troops are ready to move out immediately.” He walks away, leaving you alone with Captain Rex.

You watch Krell retreat with a feeling of incessant dread. “Right, then,” you say to Rex. “What do you say the odds are that we finish this thing his way?”

“Good question, General,” Rex says, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he watches the Umbaran sky darken with more eerie purple clouds. "I guess there's only one way to find out."

NEXT CHAPTER >

Add yourself to the taglist here!

TAGS | @pinkiemme @the-lady-of-stars @anaklnky @sweetsunflowerkisses @sarasxe @buckethead-over-heels @frietiemeloen @leotatombs @revengeisaconfesionofpain @hoeneyhoeney @idoubleswearimawriter @inkstainedhandswithrings @rollyjogerjones @mandosboobiez @my-own-oracle @mikaslobby @neekid @bloody-valkyrie @spacegiirl @itspauvr @dindadjarin @xlovingheartsx @seriowan @lucyysthings @dont-trust-humanity @danger-xylophones @bonesaldente @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @gaylucanis @obaewankenobis @kriffclone @living-that-best-life @snojii @ur-trash-brock @illiniana @generaldumbbitch @raekixsworld @blueberry-9-pancakes @aquaamethyst96 @stormweather99 @arctrooper69 @yoursrosie @kapposuch @bbuckysbeardd

[bookwyrminspiration]

you'd think the answer to the question "are we on a train?" would be a definitive yes or no. unfortunately for you, the celestial spear express doesn't believe in the laws of reality

[grandprixwinnerlandonorris]

Water | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: you go to your local gym hoping you'll see the new guy that also happened to become your gym crush. What you didn't expect is to find out that he noticed you too

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, some dirty talk

A/N: I wrote this in like an hour or so, so it might not be the greatest of my works, but lord knows we need it after that quali session. Also the song was a big inspo 🤪

It was getting late and the gym was nearly empty. You had come to get a workout in, yet felt oddly out of sync with your body. Despite feeling drained, you sauntered through the area, your eyes lingering on the shiny metal surfaces of the exercise equipment. You were expecting solitude at this time of night, but noticed a few others around as well.

This week, you couldn't help but notice a new face at the gym. While checking him out from a distance, he has unexpectedly become someone you kind of crush on. You couldn't deny that part of your motivation for returning to the gym was the chance of seeing him again.

And just your luck, he was already there and had started his training session. You tried not to gawk, but you couldn't help it. He moved with such grace, each repetition of the exercises looking like a dance. His muscles flexed and tensed as he lifted weights and you found yourself mesmerized by the beauty of it all.

Mustering all your strength, you moved closer to one of the machines and started performing your own exercises. You sensed him looking at you without acknowledging your presence, but it was almost as if he didn’t notice you at all. Yet suddenly something out of left field happened.

"That's not correct. You're going to hurt yourself if you keep doing it like that." it was him, speaking up in a soft yet firm voice that startled you out of your daze.

You frowned a bit, confused. "This is how my personal trainer showed me to do it."

"I'm sure he did. But that's not how you do it." he grinned. "You're only going to get pain and no gain."

"And how would you know?" what you didn't expect is to get annoyed with him, but here you were, fighting the urge not to roll your eyes.

"I'm a professional athlete, I know." you could just tell this guy relished in being right and correcting people.

"Oh, yes? And what kind of athlete are you?" you snorted.

"I'm a formula 1 driver."

Your eyes widened as he said that. You had never met a professional athlete before, let alone one who drove a formula 1 car. You tried to play it cool, but your curiosity got the best of you. "That's impressive. I didn't know we had any formula 1 drivers in this town."

"You don't," he said with a smirk. "I'm just passing through for a race in a neighboring city. I like to keep up with my training while I'm on the road."

You nodded, still in shock. You had never spoken to someone so accomplished before. "Well, I'm honored to be corrected by a professional athlete. Can you show me how to do it correctly?"

He grinned and stepped closer to you, his body heat making your heart race. "Of course. I'd be happy to help. And my name is Lando, by the way."

For the next hour, Lando guided you through different exercises, correcting your form and giving you tips on how to improve. You felt a sense of gratitude towards him, appreciating the time he was taking to help you out.

He was easy to talk to as well, and you found yourself opening up to him. He, in turn, shared his own stories, and soon enough, the conversation turned flirtatious.

You didn't know if it was the adrenaline from the workout or the thrill of being in his presence, but you found yourself wanting him in a way you hadn't before.

As the gym started to empty out, you glanced at the clock and noticed that it was almost closing time. You both were still talking, and neither of you seemed to want to leave.

"We should probably get going," you said with a hint of disappointment.

He smiled and nodded his head in agreement, but then he leaned in closer and whispered into your ear. "I know a place we can go for some privacy."

Your heart raced as his words sunk in, and before you knew it, you found yourself following him out of the gym towards the locker rooms.

As soon as you entered, Lando grabbed your hand and pulled you towards one of the empty stalls. His lips crashed onto yours and you felt your body ignite with desire. His hands roamed your body, tearing every piece of clothing that restrained him from your skin, exploring every inch as you kissed him back with equal fervor.

He lifted you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold wall. His kisses were urgent and demanding, and you met his passion with your own. He devoured your mouth, his hands squeezing your boobs and pinching your nipples. The sensation shot straight to your core, making you arch your back and moan louder.

Lando trailed his kisses down your neck, his teeth nibbling on your skin, leaving behind a path of marks. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to you, urging him to go further.

"You have no idea how much I've been thinking about you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

"Tell me," you whispered back, loving the way his cock throbbed against your thigh.

"Thinking about what I would do to you if I had the chance."

He pushed you against the wall, his fingers parting your folds and finding your clit. He rubbed it in circles, making you shudder against him, and when he pushed his fingers inside you, you cried out.

"Tell me how bad you want my cock, baby," he growled. "Tell me."

You gasped for air as he worked his fingers inside you, your muscles tightening around them. He brought you to the brink and then stopped, leaving you to whimper in the darkness.

"Please, Lando. I need more," you begged.

"Oh, you'll get more," he grinned. "But first, you need to show me how much you want it."

You squinted your eyes in confusion at his words. Before you could ask what he meant, he placed you on your feet and pushed you towards the wall, your hands pressing against it.

"Now, I want you to touch yourself while I watch," he commanded.

You followed his instructions, your hands exploring your body and eventually slipping between your legs. Your eyes never left his gaze, and he took his time undressing. As you teased yourself by tracing circles around your clit, imagining him inside of you, the bulge in his pants was growing bigger. Finally, he removed his shorts, exposing his thick, hard member.

As soon as it sprung forward, you pushed two fingers inside yourself and moaned at the sensation. You watched as he pumped his cock in his hand, the look in his eyes filled with lust. You smiled and continued fingering yourself, arching your back and twisting your body as you watched the way his muscles tensed.

"You have no idea how bad I want to fuck you right now."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and as you continued staring at him, he grabbed your wrist and pressed it against his cock. You bit your lip and moaned out loud as you felt the warmth of his flesh against you, stroking himself as you fucked yourself with your fingers.

He pressed his body close to yours, the heat and moisture of his skin merging with your own. His lips found their way to your neck and he kissed you ever-so-softly. You could feel his cock throbbing against your thigh. Then, his kisses intensified, with his teeth grazing gently across your skin. He suckled at your neck while his fingers dug lightly into your flesh.

"You like this, don't you?" he growled into your ear. "You like being commanded."

"Yes," you hissed. "I love it."

"I want to fuck you until you can't walk. I want you to scream so loud the whole gym can hear you. Will you do that for me?"

"Yes," you moaned again. "I will. I'll do anything you want."

"Good girl."

He grabbed your hair and forced your head back against the wall, his lips finding their way to yours again. He kissed you, his tongue pushing inside your mouth, fighting for domination. You moaned loudly, grinding your hips against his. He grabbed your ass and squeezed it, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

The head of his cock found its way to your entrance, and he didn't waste any time. He lifted one of your legs up and pushed himself inside. You moaned against him, your skin flushing as he filled you to the brim. He held onto you tightly as he thrust himself inside you, his hips pushing against yours. You sucked his tongue into your mouth, your body shaking as you cried out in ecstasy.

He grabbed your remaining leg and pulled you up against him, your legs instinctively twining around his waist. Taking both of your wrists in his secure grip, he held them above your head, your breasts jolting with each successive thrust. He sped up the tempo as time passed, his body pressing hard into yours.

You had never been fucked like this before, and you loved every second of it. The way he controlled your body made you feel more feminine than you ever had, and you felt yourself craving more.

He let go of your hands and you fell into him. You held him tight, your nails digging into his back. Your bodies were pressed up against each other, sticky and sweaty, and as he thrust himself inside you, you could feel his bare chest rubbing against your hard nipples. He groaned, his cock pulsing inside you as he held you close.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs tightening around his waist. He groaned into your lips, his eyes locking into yours. You bit your lip and smiled, whispering "Faster."

He complied and you tried to keep quiet as he fucked you harder, but it was getting harder and harder to do so. Your breath was coming out in ragged breaths, and the sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room.

He put you down and turned you around, pressing you against the wall again, his cock still buried inside of you as he planted kisses all over your back. He slammed into you quicker and harder, his hips colliding with your ass with every thrust.

With one hand still on your hips, Lando reached down between your legs and found your clit, teasing it as you came closer and closer to orgasm. You knew you couldn't hold on any longer, so you grabbed his hand and pulled it away from your sensitive flesh. He smiled and grabbed your face, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

Spinning you around once more, he picked you up and put you onto his cock, your legs wrapping securely around him. You could tell he liked to be in control so much as he took charge and started moving your hips up and down his length. His fingers groped your ass, his tongue teasing your nipples as you moaned in pleasure.

You felt him swell inside you, and your own orgasm started building up inside of you. You could feel it coming closer and closer with every movement of his thrust, until finally it arrived, crashing through both of you like a wave. You screamed in pleasure as Lando pumped one last time into you before coming hard himself, his entire body shaking with release.

Slowly he lowered you onto the floor, both of you still breathing heavily from the intense session that just took place. He took a step back to look at you, admiring every inch of your glistening body from the workout you just did.

"I guess I can tell my personal trainer that you're a better instructor than him."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Surgery VI

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: Baking when you were Little Cub

"In trouble, again?" Paredes asks as Mapi leaves her meeting," What is it this time? Still the food issue?"

"There's no food issue," Mapi replies with an eye roll.

"If you're struggling with healthy food then-"

"There's no struggling to make healthy food," Mapi interrupts," It's fine. We're fine."

"I'm just saying, Mapi. I know Cub's properly weaned now so if it's difficult then just come over to mine. Lucía will be happy to feed you both."

"It's fine," Mapi insists," We have no nutrition problems in the house."

Paredes looks sceptical but doesn't push anymore as you toddle over, grabbing onto Mapi's legs and giggling as Ingrid tickles your tummy.

You've taken to Ingrid like flies to honey.

Paredes hasn't seen anything quite like it. You're notoriously impulsive and wiggly (she's still trying to convince Mapi to get you checked out by a professional) but you don't mind sitting still in Ingrid's arms.

She's your go-to babysitter now, even edging out Leila while Mapi's busy and you seem to love her.

"Are we still up for later tonight?" Ingrid asks as you duck back and forth between her and Mapi.

Mapi's cheeks turn pink and her voice goes embarrassingly high-pitched. "Of course! Cub's really excited. Aren't you, cub?"

"Makin' cookies 'gain?" You ask.

"If you really want to."

"Yes!"

"I see," Paredes laughs as you and Ingrid run off again," The nutrition problem is you can't say no to your kid. Cookies? Again? How many spare have you got?"

Mapi groans. "Too many. You know what Cub's like. My mama took her to a bakery last time she came to visit and she's obsessed now. I can't bake for shit so I think we've hit up every bakery in the city."

"And Ingrid came to your rescue?"

"I think Cub must have mentioned it because she turned up a few weeks ago with ingredients and they spent an hour baking together. I've never seen Cub so calm."

"And now you have too many to eat by yourself?"

"Way too many."

"Bring them in next time," Paredes laughs, clapping Mapi on the back," At least then the whole team gets the nutrition lecture."

"You know what? I think that's a great idea."

Ingrid follows Mapi's car home, having already bought more ingredients on the way to training so you could get right into the baking as soon as you got home.

The countertops of Mapi's kitchen (and every spare space) is already covered in baked goods, ranging from cookies to cupcakes to fancy bread that there's truly no hope in her eating all by herself, hence the reason she is constantly getting in trouble with the coaching staff.

"Alright," Ingrid says, commanding the room easily when you get distracted by showing Bagheera the lion on your t-shirt," Let's wash our hands please."

You go immediately over to the sink, letting Ingrid pick you up so you can reach while Mapi grabs the stool she keeps in the bathroom so you're tall enough to reach the countertops.

Mapi's in awe as Ingrid so easily gets you to follow her instructions. You're fairly unruly and impulsive at the best of times but you calm right down as Ingrid helps you break an egg into the bowl and stir it in with the rest of the mixture.

"Do you need any help?" Mapi's only really asking out of curtesy.

The first time you had baked with Mapi was also the last time when the cake mixture set on fire in the oven and the glass bowl you had mixed everything shattered.

"Why don't you just sit with Bagheera and look pretty?" Ingrid teases but Mapi feels it go straight through her body and she sits down quickly.

"Ingrid's da boss!" You giggle and Ingrid moves behind you to tie your unruly hair back properly.

"I don't think I'm the boss," She says to you and you shake your head.

"Are! 'Cause Mami's my boss and you tell her what to do! You're Mami's boss!"

Ingrid laughs, scooping out a bit of cookie dough and swiping it across the tip of your nose. "You're so sweet, cub," She says as you go cross eyed looking at the blob on your nose.

"Tha's what Mami says!"

"Well, your Mami is very smart. Now, what cookie-cutter shape are we using today?"

You end up choosing the star cutter and Ingrid helps you cut them all out before she puts them in the oven.

"I've noticed that," Ingrid says as she joins Mapi on the sofa," Doesn't she get bored?"

You're sitting in front of the oven, just staring at the cookies.

"It's normal," Mapi shrugs," You should see her watching the washing machine. It's so cute."

You watch the cookies bake the entire time until Ingrid comes over to get them out. You can't touch them just yet because they're still hot but you're pulled away by Mami making you help her box up the other things you made this week.

"Why?" You ask her.

"Well," She says," I thought it would be nice to give some to the team your snacks."

"But why?"

"Because your Mami really wants to share how proud she is of you," Ingrid jumps in," Your food is so tasty that she wants everyone to taste it too."

You gasp. "Can smash Tia Leila's face with cake!"

You're very determined to do that as you carry the box of cupcakes into the changing room the next day. Mapi and Ingrid lag behind with bags full of boxes.

"What's this?" Alexia asks with a laugh.

"Made bakery food," You say, tearing the top of the tupperware off," Tia Leila! Tia! Cake for you!"

As soon as she ducks down to take it from you, you slam it right into her nose.

[clonerightsagenda]

May I ask what the 'no sex in space' rant is? Zero G sounds like fun :<

The space sex rant is my passion. Possibly because I have no emotional investment in the act so when it gets broken down into weird biology and mechanics by the cruel forces of physics, I find it kind of fascinating.

Sticking this below the cut because it will get long. My primary source is Packing for Mars by Mary Roach, but A City on Mars gets into the same issues. Yes, at least two books have entire chapters devoted to the space sex problem.

Note that this is all assuming microgravity. Many of the problems go away if you have artificial gravity, which we haven't cracked yet beyond building centrifuges. Your Star Trek fanfics are safe. So without further ado, and in no particular order, reasons why you probably shouldn't have sex in zero gravity and it probably wouldn't be that fun if you did:

The infamous 'no boners in space'. Since we're evolved to live in gravity, our bodies compensate for it by putting more effort into getting fluids above our heart. In microgravity, that's unnecessary, so you end up with fluid shift - more fluids, including blood, in the upper body. Your total blood volume also goes down. This would make an erection more difficult, and in fact most astronauts interviewed for whom this would be relevant claimed they didn't get any. The outlier here is Mike Mullane, but having read his memoir, he is the kind of guy who would lie about that. Now, as I touched on while despairingly liveblogging Barrayar, that does not prevent you from having a good time. However less blood flow would presumably mean less sensation in general for anyone below the belt. Or if you stimulated too much blood flow, with the lower total blood volume, perhaps that 'got dizzy because I got horny' joke will actually come true.

In microgravity, body heat and CO2 don't disperse the same way they do in regular atmosphere. Astronauts have to make sure they sleep in well-ventilated areas and are also trained on symptoms of CO2 poisoning. If multiple people are in an area exerting themselves, that buildup will happen faster and would need to be taken into account. It would be super embarrassing to suffocate crammed into a closet for some hanky panky.

The laws of motion are not your friend here. I've seen videos of astronauts pushing themselves across the room with a strand of hair. If you're trying to hold onto someone, you'd either want a relatively small space (maybe not a great idea, see point 2) or hold on really well. One astronaut Mary Roach interviewed suggested duct tape. Perhaps fuzzy handcuffs are critical here. Still you're going to need to put a lot of thought into every move you make.

Space is gross. :( Right now astronauts just wipe themselves down with clothes and dry shampoo. "Skin flakes" is a serious problem. Also we're still not entirely sure why, but astronauts develop awful body odor. According to Mary Roach again, while armpits are famous as a BO source, apparently the crotch is as well, it's just that those regions are typically further from our nose. So idk if anyone's going to want to get that close and personal with anyone else while they're up there. Then again I'm sure people have hooked up in grosser situations.

I'm probably forgetting some tidbits since I just woke up, but in summary, zero gravity sex would need to be carefully choreographed, require some equipment (fan, fasteners), and probably wouldn't even be as enjoyable as its Earthnorm counterpart. It's a good thing that's not what anyone's up there for.

[javier-pena]

embers

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You're engaged to be married to a man you've never met. Arthur Morgan is supposed to escort you across the country to meet him. You should keep your distance, but the dangers of the road bring you closer and closer together with each passing mile.

Warnings: smoking | drinking | canon-typical violence | allusions to rape | reader is a virgin | loss of virginity | descriptions of injury and medical procedures (Arthur gets stitches) | reader has hair that can be pulled | hand job | oral (m receiving) | masturbation (f and m) | mutual masturbation | dirty talk | voyeurism | exhibitionism | praise kink | fingering | (unprotected) p in v sex

Notes: So there's this post ... and It has been on my mind for months so I had to write this exact scenario with Arthur, naturally. Again, this is way longer than it was supposed to be, but working on this fic allowed me to daydream a lot, so I can't complain. As always, I wouldn't have been able to do it without Dani @alexturner, who pushed me in the right direction and came up with the ending (because I'm not good at writing those)!!

***

You’re not pretty. At least that’s what everyone told you from the moment you could understand those words. Your mother, the maid she hired to look after you, the boys working for your father, the marm, the people in town. Since you were little, you’ve been hearing it over and over again. “It’s such a shame she ain’t pretty, what’s she gonna do with brains?”

The thing is, you also don’t feel very smart. If you were, you’d have found a way to leave your godforsaken town for one of the big cities in the east as soon as you could read the timetable down by the train station. You would’ve found a way to get out of this marriage your father arranged for you. Ambrose Longabaugh was his name. Ambrose Longabaugh. From what you have heard, he shares your lot: anything but handsome, but at least he has money.

No one was sad to see you go, save for your little brother, who held you tight and made you promise to come back if you didn’t like your betrothed. You had promised, knowing you were lying. It didn’t matter if you liked him or not, he was the man you were going to marry. You weren’t getting out of this. Your father had made sure of that.

Mr. Morgan is riding ahead of you, sitting in the saddle with his shoulders slumped, a cigarette dangling between his lips. You can smell the smoke on the crisp fall air, even though you’re trying to keep your distance. It’s not that he scares you – not as much as other men do, not as much as your future husband does – but you don’t like him very much. Your father is paying him to take you out west where Ambrose Longabaugh will one day take over his father’s cattle business. And Mr. Morgan is doing it without complaint, hardly acknowledging your presence. He talks more to his horse than he talks to you.

You let your eyes wander across the mountains around you and sigh. The first time you had seen them, your mouth had hung open in awe. Now you feel trapped by them. You can’t go back, and there’s only one way forward. You sigh again. No, you’re neither pretty nor smart.

“Break?” Mr. Morgan asks from up front. It’s only the fifth word he has said to you today; the others were good morning and let’s go.

“Yes,” you agree, not because you need it but because it gives you something else to do.

You stop near a small river with a shallow bank where Mr. Morgan can refill your waterskins. While he’s busy, you stretch your legs and pick up a few rocks from the riverbed to toss them into the water. The rushing of the water fills your ears, drowning out both thoughts and sounds. You take a deep, calming breath and close your eyes.

When you open them again, Mr. Morgan has taken off his lambskin coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He’s washing his face and neck in the cold water of the river, a wet stain forming on his collar, drops running down his lean, muscular forearms that are still tan from working outdoors all summer. Your face heats up with an emotion you don’t quite understand, and you turn away from him, pretending to be interested in some moss-covered rocks. You’re not supposed to look.

He startles you when he touches your arm lightly, making you turn around. You hadn’t heard him coming over the sounds of the river. His coat is back on, but you can see his neck glistening in a few places still.

“You shouldn’t wander, ma’am,” he says. That’s four more words for today.

You look around. “Indians, right?” you ask with a small laugh.

His face remains serious. “No. White men. Gangs. They like to hide out here.”

You watch his Adam’s apple move as he swallows and your throat immediately mimics his. “Then why are we taking this road if it’s so dangerous?”

He shrugs. You realize he hasn’t let go of your arm yet. “It’s fast.”

“My father –”

“Your father planned this route.”

You swallow again. “I’ll be careful, sir. Thank you.” He lets go of your arm then, and you walk back to your horse, your face now heating up with an emotion you definitely recognize: embarrassment.

You make camp later that day where the trees are standing close together. While he builds a fire, you pick at a pine cone you found on the ground. Somewhere in the distance you hear a howl, but you’ve learned that if it’s not loud enough to make Mr. Morgan look up from his task, then it’s nothing to be worried about. And he stokes the fire, eyes fixed to the flames.

After dinner, he hands you a small bottle and when the sharp taste of whiskey makes you cough, he smirks. So you take another sip, holding his gaze. He looks away first, pulls a torn-up pack of cigarettes from his coat, and offers you one. You accept, surprised.

“Don’t let my father find out you’re corrupting me,” you tease.

He only makes, “Hm,” in response.

The smoke from the cigarette burns your throat, just like the whiskey, but this time you manage to suppress the cough. “Do you have family, Mr. Morgan?” you ask, watching how he uses a branch to stoke the fire.

“No,” is his simple reply.

Now it’s your turn to make, “Hm,” before you add, “No one you’re sweet on?”

You don’t really care about the answer, why would you? But when he gives you another, “No,” a careful one, it makes your heart pound faster. Until he turns the tables.

“What about you?”

“Oh,” you say, “I don’t know, I haven’t met my fiancé yet.” And you don’t want to be thinking about him right now.

Mr. Morgan looks at you, his head cocked to one side. “Come now,” he pushes, as if you’re being evasive on purpose. “That ain’t what I’m askin’.”

You sigh. “It’s not? I’m spoken for. I have no business thinking about other men.” You don’t mean to be so frank, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. And you can tell from the look on Mr. Morgan’s face that he still thinks you’re not honest with him.

“Hm,” he makes, and you dread what might be coming next.

“I’m going to bed,” you tell him, putting an end to your conversation. He opens his mouth to add something, but you don’t give him a change. You lie down and pull your thin blanket over your body, face hot with embarrassment. The last thing you see before falling asleep is Mr. Morgan staring at the flames, a quiet smile on his lips.

Later that night, you wake up to shouts. What pulls you from your sleep entirely is a gunshot that reverberates through the forest. “Mr. Morgan?” you shout, because he isn’t sitting next to the fire anymore and you can’t see him anywhere. Then you hear a sound that makes your blood run cold, a snarl, a growl, but animalistic, wild, unlike anything you’ve ever heard. You jump up from your bedroll, ready to run, but then you remember Mr. Morgan’s warning. It’s better to stay here, in the light of the dwindling fire, than to take your chances out there. “Mr. Morgan?” you try again, this time a hiss, as you frantically search the darkness beyond your camp. It gets so dark out here at night.

A shout is your answer, a deep, “Hey!” Short and fast. The horses whinny, and you’re only now realizing they’re stomping the ground, tearing up the soil with their hooves, the whites in their eyes visible, ears pressed tightly back. You try to swallow your panic, but it gets harder with every passing second.

Then something moves between the trees and Mr. Morgan stumbles back into the camp, a gun in one hand, a torch in the other. He has a wild look in his eyes too, just like the horses, but when they land on you, he relaxes, his face assuming its usual, stoic mask. “Mountain lion,” he says. “It’s gone.”

“What does that mean?” you ask, your voice trembling.

“Chased it off,” he explains. “It ain’t coming back here.”

“The horses …,” you start.

But he walks toward the fire, toward you. “You did good,” he says, dropping to his knees next to you, so close, too close. You can smell the gunpower on him, and the sweat; you’ve never been so close to a man before, not even your own father. “Here.” He hands you the whiskey again. “It’s gone, I promise.”

You wish your hands wouldn’t shake so much. He grabs yours with one to steady, his warm skin like fire against yours, unscrews the stopper with the other, not with impatience but oh so gently. You manage to take a sip on your own, but he watches you intently for any signs of distress.

“You’ll have to get used to it,” he says, stowing away the bottle. “This land out here … it’s wild.”

You nod. Now that the initial burst of panic is dulled, you feel tears sting your eyes.

“But you’ll manage.” His voice is so calming. “You’re a brave girl.”

*******

The hooves of your horse pound out a slow, steady beat against the hard ground. You’re tired, every muscle in your body is sore, but you push on without complaint, following Mr. Morgan up a winding mountain and back down on the other side. The days are so similar they’re bleeding into one – the mountain lion … did it attack three nights ago? Five? You don’t remember. All you know is that your heart picks up speed when he looks at you, that every evening your conversation around the fire becomes a little bit longer, that you wish you could go on like this forever, never to arrive at your destination.

Sometimes at night, when you can’t sleep but you pretend to, you can hear him sing, sometimes to himself, sometimes to the horses. Your heart almost flies out of your chest when he does it. He hasn’t touched you anymore since the night of the mountain lion attack, but you wish he would. Even though everything else about him confuses you, you wish you could feel his skin against yours again; such longing, it almost consumes you.

Is this what it’s supposed to feel like? Did your cousin feel like this when she ran off with that cowboy? Did your mother and father feel like this; is that why they got married? Are you supposed to feel like this when you meet your fiancé? Or is this something else entirely? Is there something wrong with you?

“Break?” he asks once the ground is beginning to even out.

“You know, you keep asking for breaks so much I’m starting to think you don’t want us to reach our destination,” you tease.

He just shrugs and stops his horse. You halt too and climb off, your legs steady when they hit the ground. It wasn’t like that in the beginning; the first few days he had to help you off your horse and you could barely stand. It’s astonishing what a difference a few weeks can make.

You stretch, then begin to walk up and down the path. It’s cold, sitting so still up on that horse, and you flex your fingers, trying to get some feeling back into them. Mr. Morgan, meanwhile, sits down on a tree stump to write in a leather-bound notebook. You’ve seen him use it before but you don’t quite know what it’s for. He’s probably tracking your progress or taking notes on the weather.

Careful to keep him in sight, you veer off into the underbrush, looking at the trees and the different kinds of plants growing on the ground. You pretend you can read the language of the forest, looking for tracks of animals or some mushrooms you might be able to eat. Just like you’ve seen Mr. Morgan do countless of times. When you do find something, you’re not sure what to make of it.

“Mr. Morgan?” Your voice is raised as you try to keep it steady.

You hear his footsteps immediately but you don’t dare to turn around, your eyes fixed on the sight before you. He stops next to you, and you can hear his steady breathing. The knot in your chest immediately dissolves.

“Hm,” he makes.

“What happened here?” you ask. Now the tremor in your voice is all too audible.

He hesitates just for a second, weighing his options, but then he says, “Some people were camping here, a family by the looks of it.”

“Where are they?” you ask, finally turning toward him. The cold, calculating look on his face sends a shiver down your spine.

“Ma’am …,” he says slowly.

“You can tell me. I can handle the truth.”

You look back at the burned-out wagon, the torn clothes hanging from tree branches, all that blood on a log next to a cold fire pit. You don’t need him to tell you. You just want him not to confirm your suspicions.

“They’re dead,” he answers. “Killed. For money.”

“All of them?” you ask.

He winces. “If there were women …”

“Can’t we help them?” You know you can’t, but you wish there was something you could do.

“Stay on the path next time,” he growls. “No more wanderin’ ‘round … ma’am.”

“Mr. Morgan …,” you try, but he’s already trudging back toward the horses.

You spend the rest of the day in silence, riding next to each other but avoiding each other’s gazes. You shouldn’t have called out to him; it was obvious what had happened in that camp. They were a group, and you’re just two people … your father couldn’t have known about the dangers of this journey, or he wouldn’t have made you go. He would’ve found another way. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself. Because you don’t want to even consider the other option and what it would mean. When the sun slowly disappears behind the mountains around you, dread settles onto your heart, the heavy kind you haven’t felt since you were a little girl, afraid of the dark.

Finally, Mr. Morgan stops his horse. “We camp here tonight. No fire.”

“It’s so dark,” you whisper.

“The darkness ain’t what’ll kill you,” he growls.

You can’t sleep; of course not. So you watch him all night, sitting up straight next to you, not so close that you could touch him, but close enough so you’ll always see he’s there. He doesn’t sleep either but he sits very still, keeping his eyes on the path, making sure nothing evil comes out of the dark. And you wish all you had to worry about were mountain lions.

*******

Two days later, Mr. Morgan’s face is pale and you’re frozen through. You haven’t had a warm meal since you found that destroyed camp, and Mr. Morgan has barely slept. You haven’t talked at all, apart from the necessities. And still you haven’t left those mountains and woods behind you. At least the daylight makes you feel less afraid.

“Is it far still?” you ask when the silence becomes unbearable.

“A week,” he answers, looking up at the sky, “if it doesn’t snow.”

The weather is the least of your worries. “And how long before we’re past the mountains?” You hate them now as much as they awed you at first.

“Three days maybe.”

Three more days without warm food. You straighten your back. “Have you come this way before?”

“Yes.”

“Has anything ever happened to you?” You don’t know if you’d prefer confirmation or denial.

“You’re safe with me, so don’t you worry about that.” There’s something in the way he says it that makes your grip tighten on the reins.

“I’m not worried,” you lie. “Just curious.”

“Hm,” he makes before going back to observing the surroundings with caution. “Bad people are everywhere. Not just here.”

“That’s a grim way to look at the world.” You try for a teasing tone, but it sounds like you’re reprimanding him instead.

“You ain’t seen much of it then,” he replies.

“More than you know.”

He looks at you curiously, just for a moment. “You –” he starts, but a shout ahead on the path interrupts him.

“Hey!”

You almost jump out of your skin and stop your horse reflexively. That’s your first mistake. The second one is to shout, “Arthur!” Because it costs him valuable seconds, that distraction. He turns around to look at you, and then suddenly two men are on him, pulling him out of the saddle. Two more appear next to you, a young, handsome one with a dark mustache and darker eyes, and a man your father’s age, but scrawny, with a mouth full of yellow teeth that he exposes to you in an ugly grin. You pull on the reins and your horse dances nervously, ears pressed tightly against its head. And then you hear a shot.

A fifth man stands in the middle of the path, a smoking gun held high over his head. His thick, gray beard quivers as he shouts, “Everybody stay calm and no one is gonna get hurt!”

You look at Mr. Morgan for guidance and see him struggle against the two men who are restraining him by holding his arms tightly pressed against his back. His pants are dirty from where he hit the ground when they pulled him off his horse.

“Get her down from there,” the man with the gray beard barks, and before you can do anything, thin but strong fingers have closed around your arm and you tumble out of the saddle with a shout.

The man who is holding you stinks of rotting things and nicotine. He twists one of your arms until it is pressed flush against your back and uses his other hand to hold your chin, so you’re forced to look straight ahead at the man with the mustache.

“Pretty little thing, ain’t she?” he snarls, and the other man licks his lips.

“We just want your valuables,” Graybeard says to Mr. Morgan.

“We ain’t got any,” he growls.

“I’m sure you don’t,” is the calm answer as Graybeard starts going through the saddlebags of Mr. Morgan’s horse.

You roll your shoulders but the man with the rotting teeth only tightens his hold on you. His companion takes a few careful steps toward you. A lump is forming in your throat as you begin to realize just how dangerous this situation is. You try to kick back, like a horse, but you miss your captor. It only earns you a cruel laugh and a pinch to your cheek.

Somewhere to your right, you hear a dull thud and a pained groan coming from Mr. Morgan. You try to look at him, but you can’t move, not because you’re being restrained but because fear has taken over your body and you can’t do anything but relinquish control.

“Check her horse,” Graybeard orders, but the man with the mustache doesn’t move. He’s only a few steps away from you now, his eyes hungrily roaming over your body. “Now!” Graybeard barks.

“There isn’t -,” you start, but the man who is restraining you clamps a hand over your mouth. You could vomit when you taste his skin.

“There’s this,” the man with the mustache says, holding up a cheap necklace your mother gave you as a parting gift.

“Take it,” Graybeard orders.

“What about her?” the rotting man asks and shakes you.

“Her too,” Graybeard answers with a nod. “Shoot the man.”

“No!” you shout, even though it makes the disgusting man get more of his fingers in between your lips.

The man with the mustache stuffs your mother’s necklace into the pocket of his jacket, then walks over to you. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears as he grips your skirt and begins to pull it upward so your boots and then your drawers are slowly exposed. A hot tear rolls down your cheek but it only makes him smile.

“I bet you’re lovely.” His voice is deep, almost as deep as Mr. Morgan’s, but hearing him speak only fills you with revulsion. “I bet you’re all tight …” He lightly strokes your cheek, then uses his free hand to unbutton his trousers.

“No!” you shout again, but it’s muffled, and your feeble attempts to free yourself are met with an evil snicker.

Then you hear a shot and all the life goes out of your body. It’s done. You’re alone now. And if you’re lucky, you’ll soon be dead too. Two more shots ring through the forest, each one as painful as if you’ve been hit by the bullets yourself. The man with the mustache doesn’t even flinch. His trousers hang open now, and you can see dark hairs peek out from between the fabric, before he cups one of your breasts hard and licks a broad stripe up your neck.

The other man moans, low, wetly, and it’s the most disgusting sound you’ve ever heard. He lets go of you, but it’s too late; you can’t run anymore. A wet, dull sound is followed by another moan, and you know exactly what he’s doing. You’ve heard people talk about it, even though you don’t quite know what it means when a man touches himself. All you know is that you feel bile rise at the thought of it.

The man with the mustache freezes and looks behind you, his eyes wide with shock. Maybe they have a different bargain, maybe he wants to keep you for himself and feels threatened. But then, so fast he’s only a blur, Mr. Morgan rushes past you, grabs the man by his collar, and pulls him off you, landing a punch against his jaw. You blink a few times as both men go down, not sure if what you’re seeing is real or if it’s a vision your panicked brain conjured up to calm you. The man with the mustache lands a kick between Mr. Morgan’s legs, gaining the upper hand. He pulls a knife from his boot while he straddles your companion to pin him down, but Mr. Morgan doesn’t hesitate. He grabs the man’s arm and bites down until he lets go of the knife. You catch a glimpse of Mr. Morgan’s eyes and where you expected him to be all feral rage, he’s cold and calculating. It sends a shiver down your spine and you stumble back a few paces until you step into something soft that squelches on impact. You don’t have to look down to know what it is.

Despite the loss of his knife, the man with the mustache is putting up a good fight. He lands a blow in Mr. Morgan’s face, then scrambles off him, grabs the knife, and pushes himself upward. Mr. Morgan moves faster than you’ve ever seen him move, jumping up while dodging the glinting blade of the knife.

“Stay down, big boy,” the man sneers.

Mr. Morgan shoves into him with such force the knife ends up in the dirt again, right next to the two men. But this time, Mr. Morgan has the upper hand, landing blow after blow in the face of the other, grunting with grim satisfaction when he draws blood, continuing even when the man retches up blood and spits it in Mr. Morgan’s face. He doesn’t stop until the man doesn’t move anymore and his face is nothing more than a bloody pulp, entirely unrecognizable. Only then does he grunt in pain and rolls off his opponent, lying on the forest floor, breathing labored and hard.

*******

You make camp that night as far away from that spot as you could travel before the light faded. Mr. Morgan gets a fire going while you sit on a log, trying to hide your trembling hands in your lap. You haven’t cried yet but you know it’s coming. He hasn’t said anything yet, and you’re not sure he will.

In the flickering light of the fire, you can see the cuts and bruises in his face, the sleeve of his shirt drenched in blood. And when you close your eyes, you can see the five dead men, their broken bodies left in the dirt for scavengers to feed on. He did that, all on his own.

You force yourself to stand up and walk over to him. He’s not the man who calmed you down after a mountain lion attack anymore; you’ve seen him beat a man to death today with his bare hands. No, he’s someone new now, someone you have to get to know first. And when you crouch down next to him, he looks at you with dark eyes like he’s never looked at you before and you feel all the air being pressed out of you.

“Let me take a look at your arm,” you say, pulling it toward you by his hand. The dried blood on his knuckles is rough against your skin.

He doesn’t protest, just watches as you carefully roll up his sleeve to expose a deep cut, undoubtedly left by the knife. It must have happened so fast you missed it. Even though it’s not bleeding as much as it used to, each pump of Mr. Morgan’ heart pushes some more blood out through the cut.

“You need stitches,” you tell him.

Before you can second-guess what you’re doing or change your mind, you’re next to your saddlebag, looking for the sewing kit your bother gave you. Only you’ve never used it for something like this before. You don’t even know if it’ll work, only ever having read about it in books, but it’s better than doing nothing. You also grab the bottle of whiskey from Mr. Morgan’s bag.

“Drink this,” you order, handing it to him once you’re next to him again.

He takes one big swallow, then another one, his throat working to get the liquid down. You pretend not to notice. Then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand while you stare at the cut with much more focus than necessary. Taking back the bottle, you pour some of its content on the cut, drawing a low groan from Mr. Morgan that heats up your cheeks.

Your hands are shaking as you try to thread the needle. “Have you ever done this before?” Mr. Morgan asks, his face stoic as if he’s ready to accept his fate no matter the answer you give him.

“Technically, no,” you answer, finally pushing the thread through the eye.

“Huh,” he grunts.

“But I’m very good at mending stockings.” You offer him a feeble smile and he nods. “This might hurt a little bit,” you warn before pushing the needle through his skin. Holding his arm in place with your other hand, you can feel his muscles flex at the intrusion, and a short burst of breath tickles the top of your head. He doesn’t complain.

“Have you ever been stitched up before?” you ask him to distract him.

“No,” he replies through gritted teeth.

“Oh, good. Then you have to believe me when I tell you I’m doing a very good job.” What’s wrong with you?

He grunts again, but maybe, possibly that sound could be hiding a laugh.

“Still, when we arrive at our destination, you should have a doctor look at this,” you instruct.

“Eager to hear from a professional how good of a job you did?”

Your cheeks ignite and you drop the needle. “Shit.” He is laughing now, a low chuckle, as you try to locate a glint in the flickering light from the campfire. Luckily, you don’t have to look far – the needle fell straight down and is lying between Mr. Morgan’s boots. You wipe strands of hair from your face, then wipe the needle clean on your dress before getting back to work.

“No,” you answer his question, forcing your voice to sound steady. “Because I have no idea how to prevent an infection. Or if I’m even doing this correctly.”

Mr. Morgan leans down, his big hand closing around the bottle you discarded earlier, and he unscrews the cap with his thumb and forefinger. “Looks to me like you’re doin’ fine.” A big swig, then another one.

You glance up at him just to see his face looking unusually pale. “Does it hurt a lot?” you ask carefully.

“I’ve had worse,” he answers, but flinches when one of your stitches comes too close to the wound.

You blink fast a couple of times, trying to shake the image of him on top of that man, punching and punching until no trace of life was left. The memory of the sheer brutality makes your hands feel clammy. No, this wasn’t his first time getting hurt, just like it wasn’t his first time killing someone. And now the same hands rest peacefully in his lap, cut and bruised, yes, but a far cry from the deadly weapons you saw today.

“Thank you for what you did today,” finishing up with two final stitches, then quickly add, “There,” and pet his arm before he can acknowledge your words of gratitude.

He lifts his hand from his leg and flexes his fingers. “Thanks for this,” he replies, examining the stitches.

Your gaze lands on his knuckles that are covered in blood, his own and that of the men he killed. “Do you want me to take a look at your hands?” you ask, your throat tight all of a sudden.

“I’m used to that.” He stretches out one of his legs so it rests next to you, close enough that you feel the ghost of a presence next to your hip.

“I’ve never met a man who was used to so much violence.” Your eyes are still on his hands, bruised darkly.

“It was either them or us.” He shrugs.

Us. “I was sure they had killed you when I heard that first gunshot,” you tell him, lowering your gaze to your own hands that have some dirt on them, some streaks of Mr. Morgan’s blood, but that look so clean compared to his.

“And break the contract with your father?”

You laugh. “A father who selected this route knowing full well about the dangers we would face?” The silence that follows your question is filled only by the crackle of the campfire and by the sounds of creatures moving through the woods. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you,” you finally say.

“This ain’t the first time I had to save someone,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“And how did those other people repay you?” you ask, eager for his answer. Being indebted to him puts you on edge.

“Money,” is his short reply.

“I don’t have any,” you say, feeling a tug at your heartstrings. But maybe that doesn’t matter; maybe when you arrive, you could talk to your fiancé. He’ll want to reward the man who defended your honor and saved you from a horrible fate. Still, you wish there was something you could be doing for him right now. “There’s also other ways,” you say, very slowly.

“Hm,” he makes, a sound that has started to fill you with a certain warmth for reasons you can’t quite explain. Then he shifts, moves his legs a little further apart. And you’re there right between them, looking up into his face that betrays nothing except for the smallest glint in his eyes.

You’ve never even kissed a man, but you’re not stupid. You know what certain gestures and movements mean. You’ve watched your father’s hands when a woman walked past them, you’ve attended dances where everyone around you was getting drunk … growing up on a farm, you’ve seen things. But you also know that those things are wrong and they should only be happening between husband and wife behind closed doors, no matter what everyone else is doing.

It's getting harder to breathe, and you feel a tug low in your stomach, almost like an ache. You’ve never felt anything like this before and you can’t quite place it, but the way he looks at you, mouth slightly opened, his eyes deep and dark, only fuels that sensation. And when you think back to this afternoon, it becomes so strong it makes you shift on your knees.

“You’re a pretty little thing.”

It’s the second time today someone has said that about you. Whereas the first time made your skin crawl, the second time makes your cheeks heat up and your breath get stuck in your throat. You notice that Mr. Morgan unbuckles his belt, eyes locked to yours, and you make sure your gaze stays on his face. It’s only when he groans and his eyelids flutter shut that you look down and see he has his hand wrapped around himself, moving it up and down his length with sure strokes. Something in you is released at that sight.

“Here, let me,” you offer, shuffling closer on your knees until you’re trapped between his legs.

Before you can think better of it, you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. It’s warmer than you expected, feels heavier than you thought when you move your hand up in the same move you saw him use. He groans again, louder this time, and removes his hand, resting it on your arm. You tremble.

Back home, you were taught that what a wife does in the bedroom is fulfilling the duty to her husband. It sounded neither pleasant nor enjoyable, and so far, you’ve managed to push the thoughts of what is awaiting you at your destination from your mind. But your mother couldn’t have meant this, because this doesn’t feel like duty at all. You stroke the tip of his cock with your thumb, he tightens the grip on your arm in return, and you feel a surge of pride well up. No, your mother couldn’t have been talking about this.

Eager to try more, you twist your wrist on the downstroke, then lower your head and kiss the tip of his cock. He growls this time, and his hand lands on the back of your head, pushing you down. You have no choice but to open your mouth further and take him in. The weight of him presses down against your tongue, the tip of him brushing the back of your throat makes you gag as tears shoot to your eyes. He grips your hair, pulls you off, then pushes you back down again, and you got it. It’s not so different from the hand.

Steadying him at the base with a tight grip, you pull off him again, but let your tongue run along the underside, the sharp taste of him filling every corner of your mouth. It will take some getting used to, but you’re determined to get this right, and from the way his hand trembles at the back of your head, you have a feeling you might be.

You close your eyes, focusing on taking him as deeply inside as possible because he seems to enjoy that. Sometimes, when you think there isn’t any room left, he pushes you onto his cock that little bit further and then groans contently, a sound that tightens parts of your body you didn’t know could tighten. You run your tongue over the tip of him, hum around him when your mouth is full of him, just to find out what kind of sounds you can draw from him. If this is what it’s like, you can’t imagine why anyone would call this a duty.

Mr. Morgan stiffens and pushes his hips upward so you take even more of him into your mouth. This time you can’t help the gagging sound pushing past him. But instead of forcing you to take more, he grips a handful of your hair and pulls you off. Your mouth feels strangely empty for a moment, even though his taste lingers, and you blink in confusion. Was that it?

You lick your lips and look up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. But he’s quiet, only placing his forefinger under your chin to tilt your head back a little more. For some reason, that gesture leaves you breathless. And you know why a second later when his lips lock onto yours and your breaths mingle, and you suddenly understand why people would kill for this. Why he killed for you.

You can’t help the moan that comes out of your mouth, don’t even realize at first that the sound is coming from you. His hand glides to the back of your head to grip you and hold you in place, and you push yourself toward him, one hand on his arm, the other on his thigh. He licks into your mouth and you try to mirror him, feeling a strange sense of pride when he opens up for you.

He pulls away, holding you in place by the hair at the nape of your neck. “Did you like havin’ me in your mouth?” he asks and his voice is so low you barely recognize it.

“Yes, Mr. Morgan,” you answer, and you also almost don’t recognize your own.

“Oh, you’re somethin’,” he says with a wicked smile, then stands and pulls you with him.

Your legs are trembling and your knees threaten to give way when he kisses you again, pressing his entire body to yours. Just when you think you could spend eternity like this, he closes his arms around your backside and lifts you up, so you don’t have any chance but to sling your legs around his middle. You squeal against his lips, but he just carries you past the campfire toward your bedroll. Beneath your palms, you can feel the muscles in his shoulders and arms flex and tighten with each step. Something in your stomach flutters as you remember he's strong enough to beat a man to death.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’re kissing his jaw and neck, biting down on a tendon that’s jutting out with the effort of keeping you in his arms. When he rumbles deep in his chest, you flick out your tongue to lick across the spot in apology, but he drops you to your feet. You both stand there for a second, looking at each other with heaving chests. His hands come up to grip the neckline of your dress, and he pulls, a tearing sound echoing through the trees. Your torn dress crumbles to the ground around you, exposing your undergarments, and even though your first instinct is to cover up you don’t because he pulls his shirt over his head to expose his naked chest beneath, and that sight is enough to distract you from any embarrassment you might be feeling.

His pants are next, and then he stands before you stark naked. You try to touch his stomach with a trembling hand, but he grabs your wrist and pushes you down to the ground. With precise movements, he pulls off your drawers, taking your shoes with them, then tears open your corset to expose your breasts. Your breath hitches when he cups one in his calloused hand and squeezes, making pleasure spike through your body.

You kiss him again, lean into his touch, and then you discover you can make him tighten his hold on you by licking over his bottom lip. You can make him press his hard length against you by moaning in pleasure. It feels so, so good to have this effect on him, to be able to do that to him without words. Never, in a million years, would you have expected that giving yourself to a man would feel like this, would make heat blossom at the base of your spine, would make you ache between your legs. You shove your fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss, and he sighs against your lips, a sound that makes your knees weak. How can all of this make you feel so good yet fill you with a hunger you don’t know how to satiate?

You run your nails over his scalp, testing to see what other sounds you can elicit from him, when he suddenly shifts both your bodies, pushing you to the ground while caging you in with his body. Your heart hammers in your chest so hard it’s almost painful, but even when your back is uncomfortably pressed against your thin bedroll, you still crane your neck to keep kissing him. God, why can’t you get enough of him?

With a sharp slap against your knee that sends another spike of pleasure through your body, he pushes your legs apart, then draws back to look at you. His lips are red and swollen, and both shadow and light are dancing across his face in quick succession. You reach up to touch his cheek, but he catches your wrist and pins it down next to your head with so much strength it steals the breath from your lungs.

“You’re the prettiest little lady I’ve ever seen,” he mumbles.

You feel your face heat up, but he doesn’t notice how flustered you are. With his free hand, he grabs himself, then lines himself up between your legs. You watch, eyes wide, breathing so fast your head is starting to swim. What comes next is a pressure that is not painful but not quite pleasurable either. And the more it pushes, the more it hurts.

“Stop,” you say, your voice not more than a whisper.

Either he doesn’t hear you or he’s ignoring you, but he continues to push up into you, and now it’s so painful you’ve lost all sense of pleasure entirely.

“Stop,” you try again, bracing your hands against his shoulders, trying to push him off you. He’s too strong for you. “Arthur, stop!” you bellow.

And he hears you. He immediately withdraws, and you scramble to sit up, pulling away from him as best as possible on the small bedroll.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, and the concern in his voice makes you look at him.

“Yes,” you answer, hugging your knees to your chest. You wish you weren’t so naked.

“Have you ever …?” He doesn’t need to finish the question for you to know what he means.

You shake your head.

A deep, red flush creeps up his chest and neck. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t –”

“It’s alright,” you interrupt him, his apology embarrassing rather than harming you. “You didn’t know.”

“The way you were kissin’ me …” He trails off again.

Your ears prick up at the compliment. “It all felt … good,” you stutter. “More than good. It’s just …”

“I can … we can slow down,” he offers. “If you still want …”

You look at him, kneeling before you, his skin glowing orange in the light from the fire. His dick is slowly softening between his legs, goosebumps are covering his arms, but he is showing you all of himself without shame. That bold display of his body makes your blood heat up again, but you hesitate. Touching his naked skin is one thing, giving yourself to him entirely is something you’ve been warned of your entire life. And yet … now that you’ve pushed through the initial shock, you slowly realize your body is demanding to feel him again.

You nod. “Yes. I still … I want you.”

Your cheeks are fever-hot, but the way his eyes light up is worth the embarrassment you feel. Arthur moves toward you, loosening the hold you have on yourself, and you relax, dropping your knees, letting him come even closer. He smirks, his eyes darting to your lips and then back up again before he leans in for a searing kiss, and it feels like the last few minutes didn’t happen at all. Without breaking the kiss, he reaches for your wrist, then slowly guides your hand between your own legs, while you tremble in anticipation. He doesn’t touch you, but when he presses your own fingers against all that heat and wetness, you moan deeply.

Arthur breaks the kiss first. “I want you to play with yourself,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

“I don’t …,” you start, suddenly unsure.

“Yeah, I know.” He kisses your neck. “You’re gonna figure it out though.”

You take a deep breath and nod, and when he captures your lips for another kiss, you move your fingers over yourself in a motion that makes pleasure shoot through your entire body. A shaky pant escapes you and lands on his mouth, turning his lips into a smirk even while he’s kissing you.

“There you go,” he whispers.

You find a rhythm and pace that makes you feel like you’re about to explode but that doesn’t light the final fuse, and he continues to kiss you for a while before drawing back to watch the hand between your thighs. Any shame you could have felt is replaced by pure lust when you see the arousal in his eyes; you shift to open your legs further, and he raises his eyes in surprise. You shift under his searing gaze and moan when you notice his hand closing around the base of his cock.

You’ve never felt like you’re feeling right now, completely in control but also like you’re surrendering yourself to him. It’s so addictive it makes you wonder how people don’t want to feel like this all the time. “It feels so good,” you groan, struggling to get the words out because your teeth are clenched.

“You’re so pretty,” is Arthur’s answer as he moves his hand up and down his length.

You can’t help but believe him. “I love you strong you are,” you return the compliment, and before you can think better of it, you raise your free hand and cup your breast, squeezing your nipple.

His eyes lock onto your chest. “Fuck.” Pleasure shoots through you from the tip of your toes to the top of your head. “You’re such a good girl,” he adds, and it makes your heart flutter so painfully you feel like it’s about to fly out of your chest.

“Say that again,” you demand, not recognizing yourself at all.

Arthur shifts closer until he’s right between your legs, fisting himself eagerly. You can smell the sweat and arousal on him, a scent so overpowering you wish you could bury your nose in his skin and inhale it forever. “My pretty, brave girl,” he says, and when you lower your gaze, too overwhelmed by what his words make you feel, he grips your chin and lifts your head. “Oh no, you’re gonna look at me.” You blink once but don’t lower your head again. “Yeah, that’s it.” He smirks. “Look at you … so eager to please me. You should see yourself right now … goddamn prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

You do lower your gaze then because it feels like too much. Your eyes land on his cock, on the tip that’s glistening wetly, and you lick your lips, remembering the feeling of him in your mouth.

“You want me inside of you, don’t you?” Arthur asks, and you nod. His rough, calloused hand closes around your throat and you can’t help it – you move your own hand faster, a crescendo building in the pit of your stomach. “Use your words, pretty girl. I know you can.”

You swallow hard, knowing he can feel your throat move against his grip. “Yes, I want you inside of me.” Your face doesn’t heat up this time as you realize you’re not only saying that to please him. It’s exactly what you want.

He rewards you with a deep kiss, then mumbles against your lips. “Are you ready?”

You hesitate. “I’m not …”

But Arthur doesn’t let you finish. “Let’s find out together.” He leans back. “Finger yourself.” The way his eyes darken when he says it isn’t lost on you.

You shift and move your hand lower, his eyes fixed to your movements. He has stopped moving, his hand grabbing his cock, holding it between his legs. You feel yourself flutter against your fingers in anticipation at the same time as he licks his lips. And then you push the tip of your finger inside of you, past the initial resistance, deeper and deeper until you can’t go any further.

“Breathe,” he instructs and you exhale sharply. “Did that hurt?”

You shake your head before remembering he likes to hear your voice. “No.”

“How does it feel?” he wants to know.

Carefully, you pull your finger out until only the tip remains inside of you, then you push it back in. “Good,” you manage. “Really good.”

“You’re sweet when you can barely talk,” he says with a smirk and the muscles inside you clamp down on your finger. You moan and close your eyes, unable to keep them open. “You like that, don’t you?” You hear him shift closer. “You like hearing my voice. Bet you’d like me to talk you through it, too.”

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you feel something building inside you. It’s like a wave that will drown everything out. You lean back further and further until your back connects to the ground, until you can raise your hips to meet your finger, trying to get it as deep inside you as possible.

Then his hand is covering yours and he pushes you to the ground, stilling you. When you open your eyes, you’re met with his, dark with lust, and you’re rewarded with the sight of his chest, flushed so deeply red it looks almost purple. His cock is leaking onto his fingers. “Not yet, sweet girl,” he says in a voice that sounds familiar to the one he uses to calm down his horse. “You’re doing so well, but wait until …”

Arthur removes his hand from yours, but then you feel the tip of his finger right where yours is disappearing inside yourself. You steel yourself for the pain you’re about to feel, but when his finger joins yours, stretching you open, all you feel is pleasure so intense it makes it hard for you to stay conscious.

“Fuck,” you groan, a short outburst, almost like a bark.

“You can say that again.” Arthur’s voice is so husky it’s almost impossible to understand. He cups your hand with his, and then moves the both of you in tandem, pulling back out and pushing back in. You tentatively meet his thrusts by rolling your hips and he growls. “Look at you, spread open just for me.”

You don’t know why his words make you feel like they do, but the muscles between your legs are working hard to keep both your fingers buried as deeply as possible. That earns you a smirk from him and you smile back in return.

“I think you’re ready.” He grips your hand tightly and pulls the both of you out, making you sob. To calm you, he cups your cheek and presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna fill you right back up again.” All you can do is nod.

He positions himself above you, stroking himself a few times, then lining himself up. It’s easier for you to relax this time because you know what to expect, but when he breaches that resisting wall of muscles, you still feel a burn and hiss.

“Shhhh,” he makes and kisses your forehead. “You’re doing so good.”

And then he’s inside of you, stretching you open as much as you can take. His eyes flutter shut and he groans, shifting to adjust himself. “You feel perfect.”

“You’re … you’re big,” you manage, drawing a chuckle from him.

He shifts again, then pulls back out before slamming back into you, making you see stars. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he apologizes immediately.

“No,” you press out through gritted teeth. “Do that again.”

He does, and you grip his arm, burying your nails in his muscle, slinging your other arm around his back. There’s a strange taste in your mouth and you only slowly realize it’s blood from biting down on your bottom lip. He kisses you, licks over the wound, pulls a sharp moan from you. And then he slams into you so hard you scream, clawing at his skin, leaving bloody streaks down his arm and back. The pain only seems to spur him on and when you pant, “Harder,” he doesn’t hesitate.

You clench around his cock in return and he whispers, “I like you like this.” You feel yourself clench again and he groans. “You’re perfect,” he repeats. You kiss his neck, then bite it, until he pushes you back down. “I bet you’ve never had an orgasm before, have you?” You shake your head and he mimics that motion, tapping your bottom lip with his thumb. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“No,” you manage to say, your voice hoarse.

He rocks into you, not as hard and fast as before, but it makes you pant helplessly nonetheless. “Yeah, I thought so,” he mumbles more to himself than to you.

“Please,” you whisper.

He smirks down at you, then shifts his knees ever so slightly to change the angle. Suddenly, he’s brushing against something deep inside of you that makes a sob erupt from deep in your chest.

“Do you even know what you’re asking for?” he teases, but there is a strain in his voice now, as if he’s struggling to hold onto something.

“Please,” you repeat louder, unable to fully grasp the meaning of his question.

Arthur’s thumb is back on your lip and then he pushes it inside your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the tip eagerly, then suck on it, grazing your teeth over his skin. His breathing turns ragged, and the warmth of pride erupts in your chest. With a wet sound, he pulls his thumb out from between your lips and pushes his hand between your bodies until it comes to rest on that small spot you were toying with earlier. You howl and twitch and your whole body erupts. You spill over, you lose sense of where and who you are, you’re shaken by forces beyond your control. All the while, Arthur pounds into you, strokes you inside and out, and you think you hear him say, “That’s it, just let go. You’re so fucking beautiful – just let go.”

As soon as you feel like you can breathe again, he pulls out of you, leaving you aching and empty and cold. Through hooded eyes, you watch as he moves his hand up and down his cock fast until he spills all over his hand and the edge of your bedroll, gaze not directed downwards, but staring at you with insatiable hunger in his eyes. And you return that gaze just as hungrily, wondering what it would feel like to taste his release on your tongue.

Arthur stands unsteadily and retrieves his coat from the other side of the campfire. You feel the cold of the night now and hug your knees to your chest, still trying to make sense of the world. “Now, no more of that,” he says when he gets back, draping his coat over you, the weight of it making your limbs grow soft. He lies down next to you, pressing his front to your back, one arm possessively slung over your chest, the other shoved under your head for you to use as a pillow.

*******

The morning sun is warm on your face as you ride through a slowly thinning forest. The plains and your destination cannot be far from here. Your thoughts are though; they’re still somewhere behind you, stuck at a campfire, busy chasing the feeling of the man next to you between your legs.

When you reach a fork in the path, you stop your horse and look off to your right, back into the forest and the mountains. “What’s back there?” you ask.

Arthur stops his horse next to yours and looks down the path. “Never been over that way,” he answers.

“Do you want to find out?” Your voice is firm, but you don’t look at Arthur.

He’s quiet at first. “Your father –”

“– already paid you,” you finish the sentence.

Arthur nods. “Alright,” he says, then looks back at the path you just put behind you, then off to your right again. “Let’s find out what’s over there.”

***

arthur morgan taglist: @cjillian97 | @hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmsstuff | @imaginativefanatic | @joelmillers-whore | @misspearly1 | @spacecowboyhotch | @tortor-mcgee | @wickedscribbles

perma taglist: @alexturner | @amneris21 | @din-jarhead | @harriedandharassed | @martellthemandalor | @nyfeeer | @nobodys-baby-now | @od-ends | @pedrorascal | @radiowallet-writes

[toast-on-dandelioms]

What if m/c had been accepted for a scholarship abroad and just ended up stayinv there becoming the resident hero ? They did keep in regular contact with Alfred tho, seeing as he was the only family member who didnt ignore them.

Ok that is interesting and for this (which is not in the storyline in part 4) I will add another hero or two instead of Superman since he's not THAT special.

Small disclaimer: I am not sure if Green Arrow lives in Central City and where I searched told me he lives there so don't come at me that it's wrong please (I changed it to Star City so if you see it changed here is the answer)

This is based two years before you entered highschool so when you were 13 and already in Bruce's Manor.

You were there for a year and after suffering so much from Damian's tormenting you and everyone just ignoring you made you so tired and you wanted, no, needed to leave the manor and city.

You knew it was drastic but you couldn't do it anymore, you missed your mother and being sent to a home where people detest you just for existing made you feel so bad you couldn't even leave your room without a panic attack at the thought of being hurt by Damian's words or weapons or being ignored by everyone when you tried to say anything.

You applied to a few scholarship far away from Gotham to enter some prestigious schools in different cities so you could spread your choices if you got accepted.

You didn't say anything to Alfred until you received many scholarships and you chose the one in Star City, wanting to be as far away as possible from Gotham and the Waynes.

The only problem was getting Alfred to accept to send you there since he was the boss in the house, not Bruce.

You knew Bruce wouldn't care if he sent you somewhere else but you didn't want him to know where you would be going but still needed his money since you were a thirteen year old with no job or an allowance.

Thankfully Bruce just signed it without looking when Alfred showed him some random papers and off you went to your new life in Star City.

As years passed you became more social since you weren't held down by the neglect of the Waynes and you were around people who actually sought you out and didn't completely ignore you.

You kept dancing and sent all of yours training practices, plus all your small and big dance recitals to Alfred so he could see you dance since he couldn't come to every single one of them and you didn't blame him.

When you turned 15 you found a part-time job at a science company where they allowed you to work on your experiments with the supervision of an another scientist.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) you got bit by a radioactive spider that escaped from the same scientist who was supposed to supervise you and gave you the spider abilities.

Which did worry you but you learned to control your newfound superhuman strenght and also your weird sticking to surfaces and walking on walls.

Did it take a while? Yes, but it was worth it.

You also decided to become a vigilante because why not? Why not put your life in danger every night just to not receive any money compensation from it?

You're not as active as your alterego in Gotham since you actually have friends here and you're not held down by years of neglect which pushed you to help people.

You helped people whenever you could and one night, during a patrol you accidentally bumped into Green Arrow and fought with him for a while before both of you realised neither of you two were villains.

You did apologise and after a few more encounters and you pulling some pranks on Oliver because he was an easy target to prank, like come on. The man wears green and has an arrow. You can't not prank that man and call him Robin Hood.

You became his little helper, got his phone number and helped him with some villains whenever you could and especially if he let you.

You also trained your fighting with him, which got you beat up and with so many black eyes that you had to beg him to not hit your face since you couldn't keep worrying your friends and dance instructor since they were starting to ask questions and you couldn't fool them forever.

You also met Roy, aka Speedy, while on a mission with Oliver and also got along with him despite his hatred for Oliver and gained a new older brother.

After a year of helping Oliver around and training to fight decently and not only use your superhuman strenght, he finally let you come to a Justice League meeting.

You met Batman and Damian there, along with Superman and Jon to which you tried to get along with but the two of them were extremely clingy and knew a bit too much about you which creeped you out.

During the meeting you stayed very close to Oliver to avoid the two teens and also hide from Batman and Superman since they kept staring at you even while talking.

After the meeting Batman did try to approach you and you avoided him, but while walking away he just said "(Y/N)", which made you stop before walking off.

You immediately knew that he knew who you were under the mask but you didn't care that he knew.

You just ignored him and his calls, plus his sons calls. You refused to even give him a bit of attention, especially since he didn't bother you for years but now they wanted your attention?

God no, you still had dignity and self respect. Giving them attention would be like forgiving them for all those years of not even knowing you existed.

Finally the calls stopped but they started to appear everywhere you went in Central City.

You went to school? You were called in the principal office where Bruce was and scolded you lightly about putting your mother's last name when it should have been his.

Your hand started to bleed from how hard you were gripping it so you wouldn't yell at the man in front of the principal.

What you hated more was the look of love Bruce had when he scolded you, gently patting your head as he talked.

You showered at least three times before you finally felt clean after feeling Bruce touch you so lovingly.

Everywhere you went as you or as Spider, you would be met by either Bruce or one of his kids, which got even more frustrating when they would try to coax you to come back home to Gotham.

Dick would try to coax you, too into his delusional idea that you were being forced to stay here with Green Arrow even though you told him many times that it wasn't true.

He would also manipulate you by fake crying whenever you yelled at him or ignored him, making you even more frustrated because he kept on caring about himself and didn't see how you were happy in Star City.

Jason would just follow you and talk like you never left, complaining about Bruce or Damian and offered to go to a café or restaurant to catch up and see what you were up to.

Even yelling at him that he didn't care when you left didn't budge him and made him give up. No, it made him even more persistent on trying to act like you two were close and a happy family.

You also had to slam the door in Tim's face so many times whenever he would knock at the door of your apartment, you had to replace the doorknob and locks too many times to count from Tim picking the locks and you destroying the doorknob from your strenght.

Plus, arriving home to relax and seeing both Tim and Bruce in your apartment with dinner made you sick but you had to endure since you couldn't afford to change apartments since it was in the best position in the city.

Oh but Damian was the worst. He would act like he never hurt you sometimes or other times used his own past as a way to show that he had it worse than you.

Did you throw him off a building when he said that? Yes but unfortunately for you, Jon was there to catch him which made you even more frustrated.

Clark? He was decent sometimes, you met him before when he talked with Oliver and you were around but you always got a creepy vibe from him.

Especially when he kept on staring at you or gave you things like small trinkets you saw but never bought. It was so creepy that he knew what you liked, plus he kept on calling you nicknames like a father would do to his child.

Jon wasn't that bad. He did leave you alone when you asked but he also helped you. The only problem was that he acted like you were his older brother/sister and talked about times you two were together when you distinctly remember being alone when you did those things.

You did call Alfred once, he was the only one you told that you were Spider since he kept on asking why you were always full of bruises on your face and arms and you couldn't lie to him.

The call did not go well, with you yelling at Alfred that he ruined it since now Bruce knew who you were and he ruined your once happy life just because he wanted you back home.

After a while of seeing Bruce and his kids and them trying to manipulate you into going back home, plus Clark and Jon, you decided to go to the only person you trusted the most in Star City.

You went to Green Arrow and confessed to everything, you told him about your mother's death and how you were suddenly sent to a family who couldn't care less about you.

You didn't hide that you were Bruce's biological child and also showed him your scars that Damian made in the year he tormented you.

At the end of the confession you were crying, the memories of Damian hurting you with all the neglect and blatant hatred towards you made you breakdown in an ugly cry.

You kept crying even when Oliver hugged you, hugging him back with all your might as you didn't want him to leave you.

You did admit that you thought many times on going back since they kept on insisting and you weren't that strong, you couldn't resist forever with all that pressure.

By saying that, you felt Oliver freeze for a second before hugging you back and holding you close, like you hugging him with your super strength didn't faze him one bit.

What you didn't feel was the tiny prick of a needle being inserted in your neck, the only thing you last heard before collapsing in Oliver's arms were "sorry kid, can't let you leave me"

[minhosbxtch]

Waiting

Azriel x reader

Warnings: self-harm, language, starving oneself, thoughts of uselessness, slight suicidal thoughts

Come to my office. We need to talk, Rhysand spoke in your mind.

A bolt of fear went through. Shit, what did you do this time? Did he find out that you-

You're not in trouble. I just need to talk to you. He said, sensing your fear.

You made your way to his office, not bumping into anyone, thank the Mother. You were a nervous wreck right now, despite Rhys' assurances.

You creaked open the door to your High Lord's office to see him sitting at his desk, hands neatly folded in his lap with a soft smile.

"You called?" You questioned, still nervous.

"Yes. I wanted to talk to you about something," at your eyebrow raised, he cleared his throat and said, "I know about the mating bond between you and Azriel."

You froze. "You didn't tell him, right?" You whispered.

Rhys shook his head, "No. There are also wards around this office, so he can't hear a word we're saying."

You relaxed slightly until he asked, "Why haven't you told him?"

"Why did it take you so long to tell Feyre?" You shot back.

He raised his hands in surrender at your aggravated tone. "I just want to know. You seem withdrawn and a shell of what you used to be, and I just want you to be happy."

You slumped at his words. "I didn't want him to be shackled to me, especially since he loves Elain. He just seems so happy with her."

His eyes softened, and he sighed, "I know how it feels. You feel like you'd burden him with the mating bond."

"Well, there's that, and also I want him to choose me. I don't want him to just want to be with me because of the mating bond. I want him to love me regardless of the bond," you confessed.

He nodded and asked, "How long has it been since you found out?"

"Since Elain and Nesta became Fae," you ground out, wincing.

Knowing about the mating bond, you must watch him fall for Elain. He rescues her from Hyburn, giving her Truthteller, all the glances, their walks around the garden, and the happiness on his face whenever she showed up.

It was agony. You finally realized how Rhys had felt watching Feyre.

"Does anyone else know?" He asked quietly.

You nodded before saying, "Cassian and Eris."

"Eris? You told him?"

You shrugged and said, "He sorta guessed. When you and him were meeting in Hewn City and I was there he talked to me after and asked why I seemed like a shell. He guessed it was Azriel but didn't know we were mates until I told him. Cassian was a similar story. I made them both swear to not tell."

Rhys nodded in understanding, knowing your past with Eris. The two of you had been friends long before the incident with Mor and remained friends long after. You were the only reason he wasn't dead. No one else knew of your friendship with the Autumn Court heir but Rhys.

Eris had found you over the Autumn Court border, injured, and instead of taking you to his father, he took you to a cottage in the woods and nursed you back to health before helping you get back to the Night Court.

"Thank you for telling me. I swear to not tell as well."

You felt another tattoo form next to the two identical tattoos on your bicep. The tattoo was the same for each.

Rhys peered at his new tattoo and chuckled softly. It was a half of a heart mostly concealed with what looked like black flames.

You suppose that's what your heart felt like right now. Broken and burning in silent agony.

Rhys nodded at you and said, "Azriel should be coming in here in a few minutes if you want to slip out before he gets here."

You nodded your thanks and stood up to leave to get your training in for the day. Cassian had taught you ages ago and now expected you to train yourself now that he was busy training others.

You felt the mating bond grow stronger as it sensed Azriel coming down the hallway. You quickly turned around to go the other way before he could see you.

You practically jogged to your room and got dressed in your leathers and headed out. Cassian usually trained from breakfast to lunch and Azriel trained at night so you would be undisturbed.

You saw Emerie and Gwyn still out there from this morning, Nesta was nowhere to be seen. You gave them a quick smile as you went to pick up a sword. They both smiled brightly back. You liked and respected all three of them.

You didn't specially seek them out, not wanting to intrude. They had a special bond that you couldn't stand. It was nothing against them but when you hung out you always felt like an outsider. They had gone through things together do they of course would be close.

You channeled all of your anger at Azriel, at Elain, at the Mother, at the world into the sword as you swung again and again and again at the practice dummy.

When Cassian was teaching you he said it was a great way to get anger out and he had no problem letting you swing for the entire practice as long as you had good form. He would let you battle the dummy occasionally stopping you to correct your form. Cassian did the same thing with hand-to-hand combat.

He understood how therapeutic it was. He and his brothers did the same thing, just on each other. But he didn't want to be on the receiving end of your sword. When getting your anger off he volunteered to be the dummy. He could handle you easily with hand-to-hand combat, blocking your punches. But your sword was difficult for him. Your sword was just a fast extension of your arm, he received several scratches from being your dummy before he resigned.

After an hour you switched to hand-to-hand combat, your weakest spot. You were too lost in the routine to notice the sun was quickly going down. You just kept punching and kicking and punching.

You paused to catch your breath when you realized how long you'd been out there. You'd missed dinner from the sound of your stomach. Oh well. Wouldn't be the first time.

You went inside to go shower but as you walked to go to your room you quickly paused. The Inner Circle was all in the living room laughing and drinking. They looked so happy. Maybe you weren't needed. Maybe you could just leave permanently and nothing would change.

Then you spotted Elain with her head on Azriel's shoulder. Both of them looked happy. Something inside of you broke at that.

Instead of taking your usual route through the living room to get upstairs, you went around the back way so no one could see the tears brimming in your eyes.

You were numb. All the anger, the sadness, and the frustration were gone. You didn't feel the water as you bathed, didn't feel the clothes you put on, and didn't feel the blade as it tore into your skin again and again and again.

The only thought in your head was Dang at the sight of the blood on your arms, stomach, and thighs as you stared in the mirror blankly. Not caring you took a towel and wiped the blood off but it just kept coming.

You took another bath and wrapped your cuts. They were layered over steal healing ones and scars. You knew this wasn't good but you didn't care.

You got dressed and just laid in your bed until sleep pulled you under.

-'~{~}~'-

You woke up to the stinging and burning under the bandages. Bleary-eyed, you stumbled to your bathroom and pulled your shorts and shirt off to see the bandages.

You opened your cabinet that had the bandages in it and found that you were almost out. This would probably be the last change left. You didn't really care about dressing your cuts but if one of them accidentally opened in the night or the day you couldn't have anyone asking questions about if you were ok.

You would have to go to Velaris to get new ones. You also would have to make another excuse for what you needed. Maybe you could convince Cassian to drop you off.

You finished the bandages and put on leggings and another sweater. You could ask Mor but she'd probably make you try on a dress that was too revealing and might show the bandages. No, you couldn't have that.

After splashing your face with water, you headed out to get coffee. That was going to be the only thing you ate until dinner since you probably wouldn't get to skip today.

Mother, how did Elain do it? She ate normally and still remained the perfect size. While you barely ate there was never any change. How was she so insufferably perfect? She was as beautiful as a flower herself, incredibly kind, and perfect in every way. She couldn't blame Azriel for being attracted to her.

Poor Lucien though. Honestly, maybe you should just get with him and leave both Azriel and Elain in the dust.

You knew neither of you could do that but it was a nice wish though.

On your second cup of coffee, Feyre came in and smiled before digging into a breakfast of biscuits and pastries.

"Do you want any?" She asked, between mouthfuls.

"No I already ate," you lied with a smile.

She nodded and smiled back before going back to eating.

Honestly, all of the Archeron sisters were perfect. Nesta included. She might have been prickly at first but now she belonged there as much as her sisters did.

Well, you could ask Feyre to take you down to Velaris. She might have another painting class.

"Are you going down to Velaris today?" You asked your High Lady after taking another sip of coffee, black, it was bitter but it had fewer calories that way.

She paused her eating to offer, "Yes. Would you like me to take you?"

You smiled gratefully before answering with, "If that's not too much trouble for you."

"It never is. Just let me get ready first," Feyre responded kindly.

"Of course."

Suddenly Azriel came in and the bond between you both came alive in his presence. Clenching your teeth you filled up your coffee cup for the third time, keeping your back turned towards him.

Feyre gave you a questioning look at your reaction but thankfully Azriel didn't notice. You could hear Feyre and Azriel talking but paid no attention to your conversation and you watched your coffee fill up.

At a touch at your shoulder, you snapped around and winced slightly to see Feyre looking concerned before asking, "Hey, did you hear what I said?"

You blinked before saying apologetically, "Sorry I drifted off. What'd you say?"

"I asked if it was ok if Azriel came with us."

"No yeah, it's fine," you said despite the drop in your stomach. Maybe that was from hunger. You couldn't remember the last time you'd eaten.

-'~{~}~'-

An hour later, the three of you were in Velaris.

"Here I got to get to the studio so I'll see you later," Feyre said waving goodbye.

You waved back and turned back around to walk away before Azriel asked, "Are you okay? You've seemed off lately."

Mother wonder why. Maybe because my mate's in love with another female that's perfect as can be and there's fucking way I can even hold a candle to her.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just tired," you lied. You being tired was always your excuse. Well, it was telling the truth partly at least.

Azriel nodded his understanding before you walked away to look for things to disguise why you really came.

Unfortunately, Azriel still followed you as you weaved around the market.

That just meant you had to buy a shit-ton of other stuff to make it look like you came for another reason.

You went from store to store until you had three bags full of stuff you didn't need but wouldn't arouse suspicion. Two of your bags were full of books while the third held a couple clothing items.

With all the extra shit I bought bandages shouldn't seem too suspicious.

You went to the small store that you always bought from and got 4 rolls of bandages and some pastries. This store had everything from books to instruments to random alcohol. It might've been a little shady but oh well.

The only thing Azriel bought was metal cleaner and another dagger sheath.

With four bags full you were exhausted. You had to talk to way too many people today. You just wanted to go home and take a long nap.

Feyre luckily only had one class today and was done rather quick after getting a bite to eat. Thank Mother she didn't invite you. It would've looked weird if you didn't eat.

After she winnowed the three of you back you set the bags down, your arms tired. Azriel picked two of them up and helped you carry them to your room.

With him in front of you, you had to stay back far to not brush his wings.

"What the fuck is this," Azriel growled in front of you as he entered your room.

Fucking hell please no. Shit, shit, shit.

You in your tiredness forgot to throw away or hide the bloody towels from the previous night.

Azriel turned around and looked you over as if trying to find where the blood was coming from.

He took a deep breath and asked, "Where is all of this FUCKING BLOOD FROM?"

Your eyes widened. You'd never heard him raise his voice. Faking a calm image you just shrugged calmly and said, "I don't know."

Azriel's eyes burned into yours trying to assess if you were lying. You just held his stare, trying to act normal.

Oh Mother, he definitely knew you were lying. He was fucking spymaster of the Night Court. The Shadow of Death. Still, you played calm.

Instead of breaking the silence you just stood there, your stare cool and composed against his, burning with fury.

"Well this is your room so obviously you have to know," Azriel said coolly.

"Well I don't and you're right, it's my room, so it's none of your business," you hissed.

He threw up his hands in exasperation and yelled, "Well there's blood all over these towels and you're not on your cycle so what is it then?"

Thank Mother you shut the door.

"Get your damn nose out of my fucking business," you yelled back.

"Well you've been moody and now there's blood all over your towels and you haven't been at meals so just tell me WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

"WELL THAT'S WHAT I'M TRYING TO FIGURE OUT YOU DICKHEAD AND YOU AREN'T HELPING," you screamed, tears threatening to escape.

He paused, "You haven't been... hurting yourself, have you? Right?"

You stayed silent trying to reign the tears back in.

"That's why you needed more bandages and why you winced when Feyre touched your arm why you've been covering yourself up and why you haven't been eating..." Azriel's voice trailed off as he looked back at you, "But why?"

The question lingered in the air for several moments before repeated more firmly, insistent, "Why?"

You looked back up angrily, and with the most emotion you've had in days said, "Because my mate doesn't fucking want me. He wants someone else. I've watched them fall in love for almost two years. Two fucking years I've watched and waited. Nothing changed. Nothing. Fucking Changed."

Azriel was shocked he knew you'd been off for a while but he'd just figured it was the war.

"Do you realize what that does to a person, Azriel?" You let out a bitter laugh and a tear slides down your face. "It tears you apart from the inside. You try so hard to hold yourself together but then you crack and the cracks get larger and larger until it consumes you. And then you're spiraling and you can't get out and no sees, no one notices. Do you know why? Because they're already happy. They have all they need. They're so blind with happiness that they don't see you drowning until it's too late."

Your face crumples, "And your mate," your voice broke, "and your mate... they don't give a fuck. They don't even notice you. You try so hard to be kind, and nice, and you try to be beautiful, to be skinny. Like the one he loves."

And then you break.

Your knees give out and you land harshly on the floor, sobbing. You tuck your knees to your chest and sob into your hands.

At first, Azriel just stands there, listening to your heartbroken sobs. No these were more than heartbroken, they were full of despair and hopelessness.

As he stared at you some part of him twisted in agony, flailed to be let out. He froze as he realized what it was. A fucking mating bond.

He was the one responsible for your sobs that wracked through your body. He was the one responsible for you not eating. He was the reason you thought you weren't enough.

He dropped to his knees in front of you and gently reached out for you. You didn't react until he pulled you into his arms, cradling you, letting you soak his shirt in your tears. You slumped in his arms, not having enough energy to resist.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and said, "I'm so so so sorry. I... I thought it was supposed to be 3 brothers and 3 sisters."

You didn't respond but your cries had become less violent.

He continued to stroke your hair and whisper how sorry, how stupid he was forever even thinking about Elain.

He felt you through the bond. Your sadness. Your hopelessness. Your self-hatred.

His heart broke at the thought that he did this to you. Your mate, who was supposed to love unconditionally, forever, did this to you. This wasn't even the full extent of what you felt, yet this fraction was enough to make him feel hopeless.

He held you until your cries turned to deep, calm breaths of sleep. He carefully picked you up placed you on the bed and kissed your brow before leaving.

He walked down to the kitchen where Rhys sat. He gave him a nod and said, "I know now."

Rhysand froze. Azriel couldn't speak the words so he let down his mental shields so Rhys could see.

After, Rhys remained silent, eyes wide.

The silence stretched on until Rhys said, "I knew," Azriel's eyes snapped to him in surprise while he continued, "I had a suspicion and then she confirmed it when I asked."

He held up his hands before Azriel could erupt, "She asked me to keep it a secret."

"Show me," Azriel demanded.

Rhysand relented and showed him everything.

Azriel rubbed his eyes before walking over to the kitchen where he made a plate of leftovers from last night and grabbed a glass of water before coming out and starting up the stairs.

"Oh and Az," he turned around, "you need to tell Elain about this." There was a look of warning in the High Lord's face.

Azriel pressed his lips together. He knew he would have to. It was inevitable.

"I'll talk to her later," he said while walking back up to his mate.

His mate. His mate that he'd ignored for the past two years as he pined after someone that had their own mate.

Mother, he felt awful.

Well, he deserved it.

-'~{~}~'-

You woke up alone in your bed.

How the fuck

Your thought was interrupted by Azriel, your mate Azriel, opening the door clearly struggling while holding a plate and a glass of water.

He looked up at you and saw you were awake and had noticed his entrance.

There was a long awkward silence until Azriel broke it by clearing his throat and saying, "I brought you some food and water."

You responded with a simple, "I'm not hungry."

"When was the last time you ate then?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

You just shrugged and repeated, "I'm not hungry."

"I don't care. You're going to eat this. I don't care if I have to shove it down your throat, your eating," he said tersely.

You two just stared at each other, until you sighed and took the fork, and began to eat.

Azriel visibly relaxed as you shoveled bites of mashed potatoes, mac & cheese, green beans, and chicken in your mouth.

"I also brought you this," he said quietly, motioning to a bowl filled with nothing but bread and a plate that had a generous slice of chocolate cake on it.

You started on the bread and could've melted at the taste. He had brought you every bread you thought the House could make. There was garlic bread, cheesy bread, rolls, sourdough, and various bread sticks.

You were in fucking heaven.

You almost offered Azriel a piece before remembering that wouldn't end well.

You were stuffed before you started on the chocolate cake, but that didn't stop you.

Once you were finished eating, Azriel spoke, "I'm sorry again. Just please give me a chance. This isn't just because you're my mate. I see you now. You're sweet and kind and funny and obviously a goddess-"

Before he could finish you had kissed him.

You kissed him hard and passionately after years of longing. Azriel reached up and gently cupped your cheek and brought you onto his lap to deepen the kiss.

There would be a time to ravish and worship you later. But right now he would show you how much you meant to him.

After you pulled away you closed your eyes as he cupped your face.

Pressing a kiss to your forehead he whispered, "I know how long you've been waiting and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for even looking in Elain's direction. I know there's no way to fully make it up to you but I'll try. If you want me to wait, I'll wait. I'll wait however long you want. I'll do whatever you want. Just to please you. To make you happy."

"I know full and well I'm not worthy of you," as you tried to protest he pressed a finger over your lips, "No, trust me, I'm not. First of all, you are kind and loving. You were kind to Elain even though it would've been easier to hate her. Second, you are gorgeous."

To help prove his statement his hands traveled up and down her body, not enough to make her uncomfortable, but enough to show he meant what he said.

"And third everyone loves you. How could I not? Hell Nesta loves you. Also, you're smart, sarcastic, funny, Mother I could go on." Azriel said counting with his fingers.

You smiled softly and said, "Preferably don't."

"Honestly I'm the one that doesn't deserve you."

Your eyes got sharp at that.

"Excuse you, I don't know where the fuck you got that idea from, but that's not true in the slightest," at his raised eyebrows you took a deep breath and said, "Let's see you're brave, witty, selfless, caring, smart, and an actual good male."

His eyes lightened with each word and with a smirk, he asked, "Can I get another kiss then?"

I mean how could you resist? He brought you food.

[saythenametotheworld]

I Can See You

Genre: workplace romance ; oneshot

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Reader

Warnings: explicit sexual content (18+)

Notes: 16k words, song prompt was I Can See You by Taylor Swift. Had a bad writer's block and wrote this on a whim in the middle of the night while I was high on Speak Now TV and fueled with cold coffee. Synopsis: After a wild, unforgettable hookup with Jung Jaehyun, you were convinced you'd never see him again. Apparently, you were wrong because why is he strutting into your office as your newest coworker?

"So, are you going to Tiff's birthday party? We'll go to that new bar downtown. The one that recently had a big opening."

You shook your head without glancing at your coworker, Jenna. Your eyes were focused on the task flashing on your computer screen. "I have plans with my sister."

"I see. That's too bad. You haven't gone out with us in a long time. I thought I'd be able to convince you this time."

You gave her a quick glance and an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I've been busy."

Jenna narrowed her eyes at you. "Are you sure you didn't get a boyfriend? You used to be the life of the party. Now you rarely ever show up. I mean, even though your sister has moved in with you, I don't think that's enough reason to suddenly change your habits."

"No, Jen. No boyfriend. I love partying with you girls, but lately, I just don't feel like it. Do you know what I think about every day when I clock in for work?" you grumbled at her curious expression. "Clocking out."

"Oh my god, you're getting old," Jenna faked a gasp that made you laugh.

"I'll make it up to you though."

"It's fine if you don't. But do let me know when you're feeling up to it again." Jenna flashed a wide grin. "We'll tear this city apart when you do."

Your chat was cut short when you spotted your department's head walking into the office. Jean rushed to her desk and there was a quick shuffle of feet before everyone settled in their own spaces. You eyed your department head and saw that he was coming in with someone else. It must be the new analyst who's officially replacing the last one who resigned recently. That's great because Tiffany's been going through double her usual workload as the only data analyst on your team.

"Good morning, Team!" your department head greeted. "Today's a good day."

Indeed it is, you think so too. It's probably even the best day in the office, given the immaculate sight before you.

"My, my. Look at that..." Jenna discreetly tapped on your shoulder. "A tall, handsome gentleman has graced this tiny workspace with his presence."

You just shook your head dismissively despite also thinking the same thing. When your eyes flitted back to the two men standing by the doorway, you found the new guy's eyes fixated on you. It was like you had been hit by a freight train, the nerves making your heart beat wildly and your eyes widen ever so slightly when you recognized him. Jung Jaehyun.

"This is Jaehyun. Starting today, he will be joining our team as our new data analyst. I trust all of you to help him settle down and get to know our company. I also expect all of you to get along well."

"Yes, sir!"

"Welcome Jaehyun!"

"Welcome to the team!"

Your coworkers immediately gathered around him, greeting, introducing themselves, and welcoming him into the team. Jenna slides towards you in her chair.

"Is it just me or have I seen him before?"

"I'm sure it's just you," you lied, chuckling nervously as you cleared your throat.

Jaehyun was courteous, greeting every single one of you and shaking hands with everyone. You notice him lingering a little longer by your desk but pay it no mind and treat him like it's your first time meeting him. He examined your face as if he was trying to see if you really didn't recognize him at all. That look made you a little impatient, especially after flashes of memories displayed in your head; ones where he was giving you the same intense gaze while you were straddling him.

"It's nice to meet you, y/n." He smiled before leaving your desk and even after he was gone, the way he said your name replayed in your head like a broken record.

"You think he's hot, don't you?" Jenna teased. You had been trying to focus on your job but Jaehyun's desk had to be across the room, right within your line of sight. He was going through some papers with Tiffany, seemingly getting his first taste of his new job post.

He was just as dashing as you remembered, in his complete set of suit and neatly styled hair. Although when you first met, he didn't have his coat or his glasses on. He probably doesn't even need those unless he's reading or something. You know his eyesight works well, judging by how clearly he can navigate even in the dim lights of the hotel room you locked yourselves in a few months back. The memory made you squeeze your legs together, feeling a nervous but euphoric rush run down your heart to your stomach. You cleared your throat, tugging on Jenna's arm to excuse yourself.

In the restroom, you checked yourself out in the mirror and washed your hands for no reason. That night with Jaehyun was like a fever dream, almost surreal. What's even more surreal was meeting him again, even in an actual dream. After that night, you regretted escaping in the morning while he was still asleep. You regretted not giving him your phone number when he asked for it and also not asking for his. You never saw him again after that, even when you tried going back to the place you first met him. You've come to make peace with the fact that you will never be able to see him again, or even meet anyone like him. Yet now he comes strutting into your office and introduces himself as your new coworker? You can't tell if you're being rewarded or screwed over.

"So, Jaehyun..." Tiffany was beaming when she approached you and Jenna by the pantry. "I invited him to come with us tonight and he's totally down."

"You invited him?" Jenna exclaimed in disbelief and Tiffany nodded. "He's a guy."

Tiffany shrugged nonchalantly. "And? It's my birthday. Besides, Carl and the department chief are coming too so technically, this isn't a girls' night out."

That seemed to have convinced Jenna. "That makes sense."

Tiffany turned to you and started batting her eyelashes. "So, is my favorite colleague coming tonight?"

You chuckled at the flattery. "I would love to—"

"Ah," Tiffany cut you off, covering her ears. "I don't wanna hear it."

"Tiff..." you lilted but she just pouted and shook her head.

"I know exactly what comes after 'I would love to', y/n," she ranted, looking sulky. "It's my birthday."

"I know that but it's also my sister's birthday, so..."

"Oh." Tiffany softened at you after hearing your reason. "I didn't know we had the same birthday."

You just shrugged. Tiffany went on to suggest celebrating together but you declined because you've already made a reservation in a nice restaurant and you'll be with your parents. She tried charming you to agree to meet them at the bar after you're done with the family dinner and you could only say you'll try but won't make any promises. Honestly, knowing Jaehyun would be there too piqued your interest. Now you're curious to know what would happen at the bar, but you held it all in. You're simply just tired and would rather go home after a nice dinner than spend energy on socializing until late. Not even the hot specimen will be enough to convince you otherwise.

You had a hearty family dinner and Tiffany had her party. Judging by the stories on their social media, you can tell your coworkers had plenty of fun. Strangely, as you swiped through their posts, you didn't feel any ounce of envy at all. In the past, you would've been the organizer of this party. You would be coming home wasted, or not come home at all. But instead, you're wrapped in your blankets, scrolling through your phone on a Friday. You do feel bad about turning Tiffany down, but you won't swap this peaceful weekend for any rowdy, noisy, and dizzying nightclub.

Jenna was right. You're getting old. But you also know sooner or later, they'll succumb to the same lifestyle as yours right now.

Your finger pressed on one picture in Tiffany's long array of stories, the one where Jaehyun was posing with your colleagues. He stood out the most, with his pearly white skin and tall height. In his hand was a bottle of beer, his cheeks and chest were rosy due to alcohol and the rims of his eyes were pinkish. Your eyes focused on his lips, plump and red under the flash of the camera. Your mind spiraled again, falling into an immediate recollection of the one-night stand with Jaehyun. The weather was cold at the time, but Jaehyun's skin was hot against yours. His eyes were fiery with lust, staring you down and scanning your entire being as if he were trying to memorize you. His arms were strong, and so were his chest. You remember how the high came as quickly as it left, and how it was the best part of the whole thing. It was an intense night out, and an even intense hook-up. You will never forget that, nor will you be able to compare it to anything else you've had before. That night with Jaehyun was so good that it almost felt illegal; like a vice that will get you addicted to it if you're not careful.

You tossed your phone across the bed, taking deep breaths to calm your raging hormones. You would never admit to anyone, even to yourself, that part of the reason you stopped going on night outs was because of Jaehyun. Everything about him has been imprinted in your mind that nothing about your nightlife satisfied you anymore, especially not the guys who tried to humor you.

"Fuck my life," you mumbled to yourself, dreading Monday as much as you're looking forward to it. Jaehyun will be there. That idea made you feel giddy and nervous at the same time and you hate feeling overwhelmed, especially about a guy.

Monday rolled in like clockwork and you imagined yourself bumping into Jaehyun at the building entrance. Obviously, you didn't, but you did catch him inside the elevator. He gave you a small smile as you stepped into the elevator with a few other employees. You stood right next to him, your shoulders brushing slightly because the lift was packed.

"Good morning," he greeted casually and you tried not to collapse on your knees.

"Good morning, Mr. Jung."

Jaehyun's smile widened. "You act like we don't know each other."

"Pardon me, Mr. Jung," you chimed, smiling sweetly at him. "But I would rather keep things professional in the workplace. So, wherever it is that you remember knowing me from, I'd appreciate it if you don't bring it up at work."

Jaehyun pursed his lips, his brows forming a knot. "I was talking about the way you addressed me just now. You're the only one who calls me that here. Everyone else calls me by name."

You opened your mouth to retort but then closed it again and avoided his gaze. Jaehyun's grin didn't leave his lips until you were out of the elevator. That annoyed you a little, knowing he was amused about you feeling awkward. You sat in front of your computer all day, looking pissed. Jenna chatted with you several times but you just gave her the bare minimum of your attention. By 3pm, your coworkers were chatting randomly among themselves and while most of them found Jaehyun to be the most interesting one in your bunch, you drowned in your own work instead of participating. You feel awkward enough seeing him around, and even more so because you know you want him. You want all of him. But given that your office has a rule against dating coworkers, you can only dream. You wonder if you can take more of this agonizing situation, and you wonder how much his presence would affect your daily office life.

You must be delusional or have high self-esteem because, for the next few days, you were convinced that Jaehyun was as antsy as you were. Several times you caught him staring at you intently, with his forehead creasing and his lips pursed, not even avoiding your gaze like he meant for you to notice him staring. Even around your coworkers, you can see him watching you with those eyes. You're not oblivious to the meaning behind those gazes and you're not ignoring them either. You acknowledged them, every single one. You gave him the same exact look with the same exact intention. Each time you brushed past each other, regardless of how close or far apart you are, he always made sure to graze your arm, or your elbow, or your shoulder; especially your shoulder when you're wearing something that exposes them. Each time your name is mentioned in your small office, his eyes follow the direction of your desk. And your desks just have to be positioned right across each other's. Far apart, but face to face.

You know he wasn't being discreet and you hoped he would because sooner or later, people will start to notice how he paid attention to you. You can tell by the way your colleagues would randomly tug him because he was in a daze staring at you, and the way someone would always clear their throat to prompt him.

One night, during overtime, when you had to cram some paperwork for the monthly audit, you were alone in the pantry making coffee for yourself when Jaehyun walked in. You held your breath for a moment, giving him a nervous smile before reverting your attention to the coffee machine.

"Evening," he greeted, his voice deep and throaty, damn attractive.

"Evening," you greeted back, watching him reach for a mug from the cupboard. He stood there with you, waiting for the brewing coffee, but your senses were on high alert because of the proximity. Your shoulders were almost touching and his hand on the counter sat close to yours.

"Seeing any light at the end of this tunnel?" he asked, referring to the loads of work everyone had piled up.

"The only light I'm seeing is daylight. We'll be here until the morning," you huffed, sagging your shoulders as you glanced down your wristwatch. It's 11pm but you eventually stopped caring about the time when you saw his pinky finger linking with yours.

"Well, if you need a hand, just let me know."

Your eyes were fixated on your linked fingers but you still replied. "I'm sure you have plenty on your plate as it is."

"How about you try not to decline someone's good intentions," he chimed, letting go of your finger to properly place his hand over yours. "Especially if it's mine?"

"I don't think you mean good intentions, Jaehyun," you purred, challenging his bluff. His lips lifted into a smile, revealing a set of dimples that would have looked cute if only he wasn't staring at you like he was ready to devour you at any moment.

"As long as we're on the same page, I don't care how you label my intentions."

You stared at each other for a while, conversing with your eyes and seemingly coming to an agreement. Your self-restraint had always been thin, but right now it's at its thinnest and your rationality is working hard to remind you that you're in the office and anyone can walk in on you anytime.

The coffee machine beeps, signaling that the coffee is ready. You drew your hand from under his hold and were about to grab the kettle when Jaehyun yanked your hand back and pulled you into his arms, locking you there.

"Jaehyun!" you scolded in a hushed voice. He lets you go after a soft whisper in your ear that had his lips brushing on the sensitive skin. The pantry door opens and you jolted a little in surprise. Jenna lets out a big huff.

"If I die today, know that I loved working with all of you," she said dramatically.

Jaehyun chuckled, grabbing the kettle and pouring himself a coffee. "Hang in there," he comforted Jenna as he poured some on your mug too.

He left after that while you stood rooted on your spot, your mind in shambles because of Jaehyun. Jenna had to shake your shoulder to prompt you.

"Are you okay?"

You flashed a fake smile. "Yeah. Of course."

Jenna gave you a pitiful gaze. "This is killing you too right?"

"Right," you sighed, taking your mug from the countertop. "Let's have some more of this and hope we get through the night."

"Amen," Jenna quaked.

You go back to your desk, but your mind cannot focus on work now. Your heart started beating wildly in your chest the moment you were alone with Jaehyun, and it hasn't stopped since. You tried not to pay him any attention, but he was right across the room so it was impossible. When your eyes met his, he lifted his ID card to show it to you, and that made you look away. You grabbed your headphones and played music to drown your thoughts and hopefully focus on your task. But Jaehyun's melodic voice was still in your head.

'Did you know everyone at the motel knew my name when I stepped out the morning after?'

Fuck him. And fuck motels with crappy soundproofing.

Jaehyun was still smug about you getting flustered by what he said. Now you're thinking he did that to see how much of an effect he has on you. Why bother? He already knows he had you in a chokehold.

"Hey, still swamped?" Tiffany asked sleepily, sinking her chin on your shoulder. You leaned your head on hers and sighed.

"Halfway there, but I'm just finishing up on this one file. I'll work on the rest tomorrow." You were all required to finish work tonight, but after seeing how late it had gotten, your chief eventually told everyone to go home, saying he'd ask the higher-ups for an extension.

"Yeah, it's impossible to finish everything tonight," she grumbled. "Don't stay too long though. No job is worth dying for."

"I know," you sighed, giving her a comforting smile. "See you tomorrow, Tiff."

"See you."

Half of your office is now vacant and the only ones left are you, Carl, and Jaehyun who seemed to be working at a steady pace while still giving you a hard tease. You ignored him altogether, eager to just finish this one paper. But then you caught him yawning from your peripheral view, making you peer over your computer screen to watch. He took off his tie completely and tucked it away before unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt. Then he flexed his arms and rubbed his nape, seemingly trying to shake off the drowsiness. The way he closed his eyes and threw his head back while massaging his neck is getting you riled up. You told yourself to look away, but your eyes were fixated on the masculine display before you. It was also at that moment that Carl stood up from his chair with a hand over his belly. His hurried steps caught you and Jaehyun's attention and you watched as he exited the room and slammed the door close behind him.

Jaehyun's eyes fell on you, his expression smug as ever. With a huff, you rose to your feet, tossing your headphones on the desk before you walked straight toward Jaehyun. He seemed taken aback and confused, frozen on his seat when you pushed his swiveling chair and sent it bumping against the wall. A smirk formed on his lips the moment you grabbed his collar.

"Whoa, whoa," he chuckled, even his voice is driving you insane. "What's with the aggression?"

You silenced his cocky attitude with a hurried kiss, straddling his lap while he grabbed your waist and kissed you back. It didn't take long for the making out to elicit an erection from him. When you gave it a grind, Jaehyun pulled back in surprise. The flustered look on his face gave you confidence.

"Why? What happened to the cockiness you've been giving me all day?" you challenged, running your hands through his neatly styled hair. "Don't tell me you're good with just words?"

He grabbed your hands and locked them behind you, hissing as he snapped at you. "Don't tempt me, y/n."

"Like you have been tempting me all day?"

Jaehyun smirked, leaning in to kiss your collarbone. "How long before Carl comes back from taking care of his business?"

"Long enough," you replied, trying to free your wrists from his hold but Jaehyun was infinitely stronger than you were.

"Good. Be quiet," he whispered to your skin, eyeing the CCTV at the far corner of the office. He gently pushed you off his lap before pulling you into the pantry door and shutting the door close.

The rendezvous with Jaehyun might have been a bad idea. It didn't only go against what you personally believed in, it also went against your company's code of conduct. You had expected the next day after to be the most awkward, but contrary to what you initially thought, things weren't that bad at all. You kept everything professional and not in a forced way. Jaehyun was cordial, and so were you. It helps that you were all busy chasing the deadline for the audit too.

"Coffee?" Tiffany asked when she passed by your desk on her way to the pantry. You smiled at her, catching Jaehyun's gaze from his desk.

"No, thanks. I'm good."

Yes, you kept everything professional between the two of you, but you haven't forgotten the events of last night just yet. Eventually, you will have to stop avoiding going to the pantry, but you will surely never look at it the same way again.

What could be worse than dating a coworker? Hooking up with them. The no-strings-attached guarantee of hook-ups may sound like a good thing, but it's not when your hookup is your colleague. AND if you hooked up at the office. The chances of your little rendezvous happening again were high. You knew that and you were right.

Coffee? -jjh

You stared at the note for another second then glanced at Jaehyun's direction. He was already eyeing you, his brows lifting as if seeking a response to his query. You mouthed a 'no' before crumpling the sticky note and tossing it in the trash bin under your desk. Jaehyun just grinned, shrugging as he rose to his feet and headed for the pantry. Your eyes followed him, sighing when he disappeared into the door.

"What's wrong?" Jenna whispered in your ear, startling you because you never noticed how closely she was sitting next to you. She chuckled at your surprised reaction. "Girl, you should really slow down on those espressos."

"Indeed, I should," you agreed, laughing awkwardly before resuming your work.

Hooking up with Jaehyun was a bad idea and you had decided it would never happen again. That was a lie, of course, and it was proven to be when you found yourself making out with him in the copy room; your back leaning on the copier for support while he ravaged your lips and your neck. Several times, you couldn't suppress the moans that escaped your lips and several times, Jaehyun had to laughingly remind you to be quiet. On another occasion, he pulls you into the fire exit to make out, where he also had you weak on the knees all day just by going down on you for a good five minutes. The pantry would also be a venue for more than just that one time Carl had a bad stomach. Notes passing became a habit too.

Soon, you and Jaehyun had sullied the secret spaces on your office floor. You've memorized the areas where people never usually went to, the blind spots behind cameras, and the dark corners around. Overtimes became more frequent for you, with most of it being spent with Jaehyun between your legs or yourself bent over the pantry table or the copy machine. Surely, you gotta stop doing this at one point. But at which point exactly? Neither of you ever discussed that. You're not in a kind of relationship where you have to talk about this stuff anyway. As a matter of fact, you never even talk about the hookups. You just find the opportunity at random and then you both grab it each time it appears. That's how it has been for the past few months, and it doesn't look like things might change anytime soon. Or so you thought.

"You look gorgeous!" Tiffany praised, the moment you met her in front of the elevator. "Is that a new dress? Did you go shopping by yourself?"

"Thanks, but this isn't new or anything. I've had this for a while now. Barely wore it though," you replied, looking down at the dress you took your time to pick out this morning.

"Well, you need to wear it more often. You look great in it," Tiffany affirmed so you thanked her again.

At the office, Jenna uttered praises about your outfit too, throwing in a nice comment about how your hair was styled. You haven't really noticed it but these days, you've been paying more attention to your appearance. Not that you never cared before, but lately, you've taken an extra hour from your daily routine and dedicated it to looking great every day at work. Now that you're being praised for it, you had to admit to yourself that the reason for this might have been Jaehyun.

"Are you seeing someone?" Jenna asked while you were having lunch at the pantry. Your eyes briefly met Jaehyun's, who looked at you like he too wanted to know your answer.

"No. That's so random. Why'd you ask?" you chuckled, shaking your head and poking your food with the fork.

"I just had a feeling that you might be seeing someone. You look great these days," Jenna chimed.

"Agreed. You're literally glowing, y/n."

You shrugged, feeling shy because of the attention being focused on you. "I'm just feeling great these days. You know, skincare, working out, good sleep and stuff."

"And stuff?" Tiffany repeated, grinning playfully. "Is it the good stuff?"

Jenna snickered. "Must have been some satisfying stuff."

You chided them sternly, shaking your head at their teasing as you reluctantly glanced at Jaehyun. His head was bowed down as he was looking at his food, eating quietly but the grin on his lips made you kick his feet under the table. Carl jolted next to Jaehyun, whimpering as he reached down his leg.

"Ow, y/n. What was that?"

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," you blurted and gave him an apologetic smile. "Something brushed my feet. I thought it was a rat or something."

The rest of the day went with Jaehyun still giving you a teasing grin. You just rolled your eyes at him each time and refused to deal with it. In the afternoon when you were about to clock out, he pulled you into the fire escape, giving you a quick kiss.

"Stop. I have no time for this," you chided, hitting his chest. Jaehyun just smirked and you saw that as him challenging you. "I'm serious. I have plans and I'm gonna be late."

Jaehyun tutted and then sighed. "That's too bad. I was gonna ask if you'd like to have dinner with me."

"Dinner with you?" you repeated. You heard him clearly, you just weren't expecting that to come out of his mouth. "Just the two of us?"

Jaehyun looked around. "Let's see. There's you, me, and no one else around. Yeah, that means it's gonna be just the two of us."

You scoffed. "Stop playing around. I'm busy."

You were about to leave when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to his chest. He then pressed soft kisses on your neck. "How about tomorrow?"

"I don't know. I'll check my calendar," you quipped, rolling your eyes. "I'm a busy woman."

"Come on, I'll pick you up," Jaehyun chuckled, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips before tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. Somehow, his actions and the way he's looking at you felt affectionate, making your heart race. "Assuming you don't want to leave the office together. But if you're okay with that, we can just go right after clocking out."

"Why would you want to have dinner together?"

Jaehyun looked at you like you just asked him the stupidest question he's ever heard. "Why not? Is it not allowed?"

"No," you replied but then shook your head. "I mean, it's not that it isn't allowed. It's just... weird."

"Weird? The good stuff is fine, but dinner is weird?"

"Good stuff?" you hollered, hitting his chest as you felt your cheeks flare with embarrassment. "What good stuff are you talking about?"

"That's what you girls called it," Jaehyun laughed, trapping your hands so you'd stop hitting him. "Alright, I'm sorry. That was ungentlemanly of me."

"You're far from being a gentleman, Jung Jaehyun."

"Okay, I know why you think that way. So, maybe you'd be curious to see me be the gentleman that I am and have dinner with me. Tomorrow, after work."

You rolled your eyes and sighed in defeat. "Fine. I'll think about it."

"Great," he lilted, fishing his phone from his pocket and handing it to you. "This is the part where I ask for your number. Though, I know I should have done that a long time ago."

You scoffed as you took his phone and dialed your own number. After that, he kissed you again and you ended up making out for a few more minutes before you hurriedly stepped out of the door back into the building. You didn't expect to see Jenna when you pushed through the door. Her bright smile was a contrast to your surprised expression.

"Oh, hi! Are you leaving now? Should we go together?"

You were just about to respond when Jaehyun stepped out of the door behind you. Jenna stood there confusedly, eyes moving from him to you and him and back to you again. You grabbed her arm and led her away with a burst of awkward laughter.

"Yes. We should leave together," you blurted, dragging her away. "I was actually on my way to see my mom. Would you like to come with me?"

Jenna's face lit up. "I'd love to! I haven't seen her in ages!"

"Good. She'll be glad to see you too."

Dinner with Jaehyun? This year is really full of surprises for you. Jaehyun went from being a man you thought you'd never see again to picking you up at your apartment on time for a dinner date. This was impossible a few months ago, but now there he is, standing by his car in a nice suit and neatly styled hair as he waits for you to come down.

"There you are," he chimed, greeting you with a sweet smile and a peck on your cheek. You kissed him back, thanking him after he opened the car door for you.

"So, where are you taking me?" you asked as he occupied the driver's seat.

Jaehyun chuckled, probably because of the way you phrased your question. "Where am I taking you? You make this whole thing sound so insincere."

You just shrugged, not denying his observation. "Sorry, just not used to this at all."

"I don't blame you," he replied, shaking his head. "The way we got into this relationship is unconventional."

Relationship? You hummed. Well, whatever this is that you have with him, it is considered a relationship, just not the roses and dinner dates kind. Still, here you are, pulling up in front of a nice restaurant. Jaehyun was attentive to you, opening doors and pulling chairs out. You know better than to assume he was an actual gentleman. His telling you he'll show you how much of a gentleman he was has kinda ruined it for you. Whatever this dinner was for, you decided not to overthink it anymore and just enjoy the night.

"To be fair, I was hoping not to see you again after that," you told him over steak and wine. You were talking about random things when the first time you met him was casually brought up. "I don't really like being nice and friendly with one-night stands the morning after."

"Is that so?" he questioned, brows furrowed but he had an amused smile on his lips. "I thought we had something going on."

You scoffed. "Something going on? Jaehyun, come on. You're not expecting to form some kind of connection with a girl you met at a nightclub. Well, except maybe the physical kind."

Your statement had Jaehyun throwing his head back as he laughed. "God, y/n, you have no idea how adorable you are."

Your cheeks flared at the compliment, but you chose to act aloof and just roll your eyes. "Now, you're just simping."

"Wait, what happened to the witty flirt who swept me entirely off my feet that one night at the club?" he asked so you shrugged.

"That time and right now are different. I was trying to flirt with someone then, now I'm just enjoying dinner with a coworker."

"A coworker?" Jaehyun's smile turned mischievous, dropping his fork gently on his plate so he could use his hand to wipe the corner of your mouth with a napkin. "Just a coworker?"

A coworker you have occasional quickies with. "Don't flatter yourself, Jaehyun."

"How can I not? Having a date as gorgeous as you are is very flattering indeed."

This time, it was your turn to let out an amused laugh. "It's amazing how well you use words to charm people. Is that a skill?"

"It might be but I'm not too confident in that aspect. I'd say I'm more well-versed in other uses for the mouth."

You choked on the wine and did so violently that you had a hard time breathing. Jaehyun was quick to offer you a glass of water, but mischief never left his lips. You glared at him because of that. "Whatever happened to being a gentleman?"

Jaehyun just wiggled his eyebrows, laughing after you rolled your eyes at him. Fortunately, he dropped the teasing and you were able to eat in peace. A huge part of you expected the night to extend until after dinner. You imagined all sorts of scenarios, all of them leading up to you and Jaehyun alone in an actual bedroom this time. It could be his place, or yours, maybe a hotel room. And as you were making out with him in the car right in front of your apartment, you pictured both of you naked on your bed and your mind went as far as waking up in the morning with him beside you.

So when he bade you a reluctant goodbye, and wished you a good night's sleep, you couldn't even hide the disappointment on your face.

"Everything alright?" he asked, noticing your silence as you sat there dumbfounded.

"Yeah," you muttered, still in a daze. Embarrassment soon crept up on you, making you look away and reach for the car door. "Good night, Jaehyun."

"You're not gonna invite me in?"

The way your head immediately turned to him and your face lit up was embarrassing, but your body was aching to be one with his so you ignored the shame. "Would you like me to?"

"I was waiting for it," he chimed, gently pulling you by the neck to kiss you again. When he broke away, he looked apologetic. "But we have work tomorrow and it's getting late."

"You're right," you chuckled nervously. "Duh."

Jaehyun smiled contently, giving you one last peck on the lips before letting you go. "See you tomorrow?"

You flattened your lips together, eyeing him curiously as you asked, "You know we can't date in the office, right?"

"Of course. It's a workplace. Not a dating spot," he chuckled and you sighed exasperatedly.

"No, I meant we can't date coworkers. It's a rule in the company."

Jaehyun looked like he was hearing about this for the first time. "That's a thing?"

"Oh, you didn't know?" you chuckled. "That's fine. It's not like we're dating or anything, right?"

"We're not?"

You groaned in frustration. "Okay, you know what? We're not having this conversation. I'm gonna go."

Jaehyun didn't stop you from exiting the car, but he bade you goodnight before you stepped into your apartment building. The dinner was pleasant but not that you were alone, you realized what a disaster it had been. Thoughts flooded your mind, all of them about Jaehyun; his dinner invitation, his intentions, the subtle implications in his statements, and what's going on in his mind. You thought maybe he was just teasing with his subtle hints. Surely he can't be serious about it, right? He's a grown man who knows how to properly communicate. If he wants more than what you already have right now, he can tell you directly without the mixed signals.

Then again, what if you're both just adults with communication issues? Admittedly, you too have no idea what you want out of this setup. Sure, you enjoy the thrill of it but one way or another, one of you has to be responsible enough to put an end to this.

That being said, you found yourself finding the right opportunity to bring it up with Jaehyun. Unfortunately, work kept both of you busy for the following days after your first date. So much that he can't even find the slightest opportunity for a quick rendezvous around the office. Other than work-related subjects, quick greetings, and fleeting glances, you have yet to speak a proper conversation with Jaehyun.

"Hi," Jaehyun greeted as he rounded the long conference room table. "You're here early."

You panicked on your feet, standing up in surprise at his sudden appearance. Doing so, your hand that was sitting on your lap hit the edge of the table so hard that you thought a bone was broken. Groaning in pain, you clenched your fist in hopes that it might alleviate the pain. Jaehyun rushed over to you, gently taking your hand in his to examine it.

"Why are you so clumsy?" he chided softly, blowing on the reddened skin. "Does it hurt?"

"No," you replied. It did hurt a while ago, but now that you were moving it, the pain has gone and you were relieved to know you didn't actually break a bone. More importantly, you are currently exhilarated because this is the closest you've gotten to Jaehyun in the past few days. The whiff of his perfume was faint, but it was enough to make you feel euphoric.

Jaehyun eyed you curiously, his forehead creasing with concern. "Are you sure? Does it hurt if I do this?" With gentle hands, he pressed on the reddened spot.

"Jaehyun, should we stop this?" you asked directly, and the astonishment on his face was evident.

"Stop this? This?" he asked back, motioning for your hand. You sighed, flattening your lips tightly together. Jaehyun's face darkened. "Oh, you don't mean that, do you?"

You pulled your hand back, shoulders sagging in frustration. "See, this is the problem with us. We talk in codes instead of communicating like grown adults."

He opened his mouth to speak, but the door opened before he could say something. Your co-workers walked in, chattering like busy bees. While that was happening, Jaehyun was moving back to his seat. The meeting began after quick greetings and work dragged you away from a proper conversation once again.

"GUESS WHAT?!" Tiffany exclaimed when she found you and Tiffany in the pantry. Her eyes gleamed with excitement and she was jittering like she'd explode if you didn't respond to her immediately.

Jenna was the one who asked, "What?"

"There's a secret couple in our company!" Tiffany said briskly, in a single breath. Your ears rang warning bells. "And it's from our floor."

"From which department?" Jenna asked.

"No one knows yet, but apparently, Olive from Marketing saw two people making out in the fire escape."

At this point, you were sweating bullets despite the cool office. You wanted to remove yourself from the conversation but there was no excuse to leave. And to be honest, part of you wanted to know what people were saying about this.

"Oh my god, who?" Jenna was completely invested, it seems.

"They could either be from the same department or separate. But what if they're from ours?" Tiffany squealed.

Jenna appeared to think. "That's a possibility but who could it be? It's not like we know two people who are weirdly close to each other. Ones who act all sneaky and jumpy from time to time. And also keeps sneaking glances at someone from across the room."

You were stirring your coffee slowly, quietly listening without looking at them. But then you noticed they'd stopped talking so you glanced at them only to realize that they had been staring at you.

"Why? What's up?" you asked dumbly, still a little jittery.

"Well, would you look at that? It seems we do know someone," Jenna grinned knowingly and you could feel the color draining from your face. You and Jenna eyed each other, her looking like a predator who just found her prey, and you feeling smaller and smaller. You knew that she now knows. Feeling caught, you gulped the entirety of your coffee and belched.

"Sorry. I'm gonna go," you told them.

Jenna snickered. "Oh, okay. I'm gonna follow you then."

"Wait! Hey! Who is it?" Tiffany called out, following the two of you out of the pantry. "Girls! What do you know?"

Fuck the universe, you told yourself. The moment you left the pantry, your eyes caught Jaehyun who just entered the office. He did a double-take upon seeing you, stopping in his tracks and walking toward you. Jenna nudged your elbow a little too obviously, so you nudged her back.

"Hi," he began, smiling at the girls and then back at you. "Carl passed me on to you. He said you were in charge of this before so I should come to you for help."

You peered at the file he was handing to you and then turned to Tiffany. "Yeah, I did. But Tiffany worked on this after the previous analyst resigned. I just helped a little."

"Oh? Which file is it?" Tiffany questioned, also looking at the papers. "Yes, I can help, but y/n did the work on this entire project. It was already perfect so I didn't change anything on it and just submitted it as it is."

"You didn't?" you asked Tiffany who shook her head in response.

"Great. Will you help me update it then?"

"Oh, she'll help you just fine," Jenna giggled, nudging you forward. "She's really good at her job. Just don't go sneaking around."

"Jenna!" you chided but your friend just laughed, grabbed Tiffany by the arm, and walked away with a wave.

You groaned in frustration, snatching the file from Jaehyun's hand and mumbling to yourself. Jaehyun inched closer.

"Everything alright?"

"Jenna knows we hooked up."

"Jenna?" Jaehyun repeated, taken aback by your confession. He looked at Jenna who was still walking away with Tiffany. "She did seem like the type to catch on quickly."

"She's sharp when she needs to be," you replied, also glancing at your girl friends. "But she's not the most observant in our office. If she noticed something was going on with us, others will soon realize it too."

"Are you free tonight?"

You glared at him. "Did you even listen to a word I said?"

Jaehyun shrugged, tucking his hands in his pockets. "We can talk about it over dinner if you're down. It's on me."

You rolled your eyes in disbelief, then turned on your heel to leave. He calls out your name so you waved your hand in the air. "Fine. Whatever. Just go away for now."

Jaehyun was grinning fondly, but he heeded your request and walked the opposite way.

Dinner was quiet. Jaehyun kept chatting you up, and he had to keep prompting you because you kept drifting away into an absentminded daze. It's not that you didn't want to listen, you just had something in your mind that's making you dissociate with your company.

"Y/n," he prompted again, now looking concerned.

"Sorry. You were saying?"

Jaehyun exhaled calmly. "Nothing important. Would you like me to drive you home and call it a day?"

"What? No, I..." you paused, sighed in defeat, and then massaged your temples impatiently. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," he replied, smiling sweetly. He reached for your hand on the table and squeezed it. "Just let me know if I can help."

You shrugged. "I'm just really tired right now."

"I know. Work hasn't been the easiest for all of us."

"Right," you chimed, looking down at your food that you barely touched. "Actually... I really think we should stop this."

Once again, Jaehyun's handsome face darkened with concern. "Is there a specific reason why you keep saying that?"

"Nothing!" you blurted. "I mean, yes! Of course, there is! We can't keep doing this as coworkers. People from work are soon gonna notice."

Jaehyun shrugged. "What's wrong with dating a coworker?"

You laughed derisively. "Aside from the fact that it's a spoken rule to not date a coworker, we are also not dating. I thought we both knew that?"

"We're not?"

"You see that?" you told him, stern and annoyed. "That's our problem. Despite being so intelligent and charming, you always played dumb whenever I bring this up."

Jaehyun exhaled sharply, letting go of your hand and straightening his back. "It's a serious question, y/n. I am actually under the impression that we're already dating."

"Having sex occasionally does not mean we're already dating, Mr. Jung Jaehyun."

"Then at what point do we start dating?"

At this point, you were fuming because of frustration. You couldn't tell if he was pretending to be dumb or if he was actually clueless. Although, the look on his face told you he was genuinely curious about the answer to his question.

"Come on, Jae. You've dated before, I'm sure you know this isn't how it goes."

"Indeed I have but..." he paused, looking away with a creased forehead. "I never had to spell it out to them."

Oh, to be Jung Jaehyun, charming and gorgeous enough to pull any girl he wants. He probably never had to chase after someone he liked. They all probably fell head over heels for him immediately. Like you did.

"Do you like me then?" you asked straightforwardly. If you were to be asked the same question, you would say 'yes' in a heartbeat. That's because you do like him, a lot actually. You don't have deep feelings for him yet, but you feel a romantic spark with him that could lead to something.

"I won't sleep with someone I don't like, y/n."

"It's a yes or no question."

"Yes!" he pressed on, laughing at you like you should've already known the answer. "What do you think?"

You sighed, slowly processing the situation before you. "Won't you ask me if I liked you at all?"

"No," he replied curtly, poking his food with the fork.

His answer made you scoff loudly. "What if I tell you I don't like you?"

A grin formed on his lips as he looked up to meet your gaze. "Then I'd call you a liar. You like me, y/n. I know."

"You're awfully confident," you bluffed, crossing your arms over your chest to challenge him. "Where is that coming from?"

Jaehyun smiled cockily, leaning back on his chair with an air of confidence. "It comes from the way you held on to me tightly whenever you're in my arms."

Your jaw dropped open. Embarrassed, you covered your mouth and looked away. Jaehyun didn't stop.

"The way you trusted me enough to keep doing what we've been doing these past few months. Even the way you look at me from across the room. My confidence comes from those."

You took a deep breath and faced him again. "Okay. You can shut up now."

"That's why I thought we were already dating, y/n," he continued. "I thought we liked each other enough to call this dating. I was just beginning to treat you the way a girlfriend should be treated but work is keeping both of us apart."

You were quiet because you didn't have anything to say, so you just let him talk. Like always, he is composed, confident, and well-articulate. Had he explicitly asked to date you, you would've said 'yes'. Then again, your relationship didn't start in a meet-cute kind of way. It didn't blossom beautifully like cherry blossoms in spring. So he had a point. To be honest, you had no idea how it was supposed to go given the situation. But you would still have preferred if you two just talked about it like proper adults.

"Should I just quit?"

"What?" you asked, not because you didn't understand him but because the question was downright ridiculous. "Why would you quit?"

Jaehyun pouted. "Because I want to be a proper boyfriend."

Boyfriend. Did he actually just say that? And is that an ecstatic giddiness you're feeling?

"You're way in over your head, Jae," you ridiculed, successfully hiding your elation behind aloofness. "You're not my boyfriend."

"Alright, then, how do I become one?"

Just ask, you thought. You didn't want to have to spell it out for him. If you did, you would think he was only asking because you told him to. "How do you not know?"

"If I ask you now, would you say 'yes'?"

"You'll never know unless you try."

Jaehyun straightened up in his seat, reaching for your hand again as he gazed into your eyes. You stared back, letting his deep, dark brown eyes lure you into a beautiful abyss--the kind that's impossible to escape once you fall into it.

"Be my girlfriend, y/n."

You blinked. "Oh, that's not exactly asking."

"No, it's not. That was me making it official with you." Jaehyun's self-esteem is impressively baffling. It almost feels like he's got you wrapped up in his finger. In fact, it feels like he knew exactly that things would go his way, no matter what. He knew what he wanted, and he also knew you wanted the same thing, it seems.

Nevertheless, a voice in your head is screaming a protest. He's a coworker. Indeed, he is. The sex may be phenomenal, but he's still a coworker.

You could abandon your beliefs and take a leap. Jaehyun could be worth the risk of breaking office rules. Not to mention you've already broken said rules anyway, even making a sacrilege of your workplace. Though secretly, it was still scandalous. You never knew you'd be the type to engage in something so risky. It didn't even need any convincing, you straight up just did what was done. You gotta admit though, you liked every second of it; the risk, the thrill, not to mention Jaehyun in his entirety.

Your eyes flitted over to him. His sweet smile will make people assume he's a gentleman, which might be true if you didn't know what he was capable of doing in a hidden but still public space. You remembered the first time you had sex in the pantry; it was quick, almost fleeting. But it was unforgettable and you were absolutely satisfied, so you kept doing it. His aggressive thrusts, hand tight over your mouth to keep you from making any noise, the urgency on his face, and the release that comes crashing through. The image that registered in your head made you squeeze your thighs.

Jaehyun tapped twice on the back of your hand. That was when you realized your mind had wandered elsewhere and was dazed. "What's on your mind, babe?"

Babe? "You."

He didn't even flinch, nor was he taken aback. He just tilted his head a little, and asked, "And why is that when I'm right here in front of you?"

You stared at his lips, craving their warmth and the way they felt on your lips, on your neck, and on the skin of your inner thighs. Your breath hitched and a moan almost escaped your lips because of the vivid memory. You looked away from him and started fanning your face, worried your lewd thoughts were showing.

"Do you want to get out of here?" you breathed, meeting his eyes again. Jaehyun shook his head, moving his glass so the red wine would swirl.

"Don't ask, baby. You know I'd do anything for you."

"Should we just go, then?"

Jaehyun licked his lips, savoring the rich wine. "That's still asking. Assert yourself, babe."

You stood up at once, grabbing his hand on the table and dragging him up. Jaehyun almost choked on the wine he was still drinking, but he quickly put it down and tossed the napkin on the table. You weren't paying him any attention, eager to just leave the restaurant as soon as possible. When you reached the sidewalk, you stopped and looked around.

"I must say, that's one way of asserting yourself," Jaehyun quipped but you ignored his comment and pointed to a certain building around the block.

"Let's go that way," you ordered, and wasted no time discussing plans.

Jaehyun was more than happy to oblige. When you reached the hotel, he was the one who checked you in using his name and his card. You'd barely gotten inside your suite before Jaehyun had you up against the wall, his lips crashing into yours urgently while his arms held you strongly.

You kissed hungrily like you'd been starved for days, which was true because you hadn't had any alone time with Jaehyun for a while now. You ran your hand up his muscly arms to his broad shoulders. Jaehyun reached over to your ass and lifted you off your feet while you wrapped your legs around his waist.

"Take me to bed," you breathed, almost in a whisper. "Please?"

"Anything you want, baby," he grinned, biting his lip as he strode over to the king-sized bed. He laid you down gently, caressing your cheek and letting his hand wander from your face to your clothed breasts. He cupped it and gently squeezed it, and his eyes never left yours even for a second. You pushed yourself up to kiss him and as you did, your dress slipped off of your skin. Jaehyun reached for your back, then you found your bra leaving your body the same way your dress did. When his fingers found your nipple and gave it a good squeeze, you let out a moan that made his face twitch. "God, you're so beautiful."

His mouth went to where his fingers had been, sucking, pulling, and teasing at the sensitive bud. Each contact electrified you to the core. His hands are everywhere at once until they find the cloth of your lace underwear. "Can I do--"

"Jaehyun! Less talking, more doing," you interjected, your voice urgent and your tone pleading. "Please."

He chuckled a little. "So polite."

You wriggled out of your panties as he undressed, seemingly taking his time to stall you on purpose. You hated the smug look on his face because you knew he was taunting you. He knew exactly that you were desperate for him, and that you'd beg if he pushed you hard enough.

Jaehyun hovered over you, staring at you intently with lustful eyes and a cocky grin. You tried not to fall for it, but you needed him so you folded.

"Jung Jaehyun, I swear to god if you keep this up, I'm walking out that door," you threatened, You would never do that, but you'd like to see if it would have any effect on him.

Jaehyun inched closer to your face, planting a tender kiss on your lips before moving his head all the way down between your thighs. Without warning, he started lapping on your cunt, squeezing your thighs in the process. You didn't even try to muffle your moans, instead, you screamed them out. Your stomach was doing somersaults and your head was flying on cloud nine. Just as you were about to feel the release coming, Jaehyun stood on his knees and looked down at your confused expression. He flashed a grin that made your belly flutter. There he was, hovering over you with a body that looked like he was some Greek god sculpture, except that his size was nowhere near that of any Greek sculpture.

You stretched up your arms and Jaehyun fell into them. He kissed you again, needily. And when he thrust himself into you, you cried out in sweet surrender; rocking against his hips, kissing his shoulder, his neck, his chin, and then his lips like you'd die if you didn't. The release hit you like a waterbomb, making you dig your nails into Jaehyun's skin. And then he too cried out of release before he collapsed on top of you, panting.

When you awoke, Jaehyun was still beside, you playing with your hair as he watched your eyes fluttering. You blinked several times, trying to make sense of what was happening. The civility of it all, the fog of affection in the air, his sweet smile, and the warm glow of admiration in his eyes.

"That was an excellent dinner," he quipped, making you smile. "How about some dessert?"

You scoffed then hit his chest. But Jaehyun just gave you a good-natured laugh before gently flicking your forehead.

"I meant real dessert," he scolded softly, motioning to the table across the room. There sat a course of desserts and fruits, as well as a champagne bottle in a bucket of ice.

"Oh," you blurted.

"I'll give you the other dessert later," he added so you glared at him again. Jaehyun was quick on his feet, jumping down the bed and running towards the table before you could even try to hit him. You couldn't help laughing at the unexpectedly goofy display. You weren't discouraged though, if anything, you liked him more because he was adorable.

You sat on the bed and noticed you were wearing a nightgown. You recalled falling asleep after the sex and had faint recollections of Jaehyun telling you to raise your hands so he could dress you up. You thought that had been a dream but looking at the silky dress on your body, you now realize it wasn't.

Delectable food waited for you on the table. Despite being apprehensive about it at first, you gobbled the good food. Over conversations, you also emptied the bottle of champagne and that had you pawing at each other for a while before you both ended up back on the bed, moaning under the sheets.

You spent the weekend in that hotel room; chatting, eating, and goofing around. The fact that you're not shoving your tongue down his throat every hour was surprising. But then you realized that you've learned more about each other in two days of being alone together than you did the past six months.

You strutted into the office with a beautiful glow at work on an early Monday morning. Your steps were light and you were humming happily as you sat in your cubicle. Jenna was quick to notice your ecstatic demeanor.

"Did something good happen this weekend?"

A smile crept on your lips. "No. It wasn't good. It was amazing."

Jenna mirrored your grin, pushing her chair closer to yours. "Why? What was it? Did you and Jaehyun go on a date?"

"How did you-" you stopped, sighed, and rolled your eyes. "What do you mean?"

She nudged your shoulder. "Oh, so you did. Is that why he was in a hotel all weekend?"

Your eyes widened in surprise. "How did you know that?"

Jenna covered her lips, looking like she had been caught. "Ah, that slipped out. Excuse me."

Her chair slid back to her desk to escape you. Intrigued about how she knew about the hotel, you followed her to ask but before you could speak, your department head tapped on your desk and asked you to see him in the meeting room.

"We'll talk later," you told Jenna before following your superior.

Jaehyun entered the office just as you were passing by the doorway on your way to the meeting room. He flashed you a sweet smile which made you giddy. You smiled back before disappearing into the meeting room. That was the beginning of your hidden relationship. It was so much different from your sexual rendezvous, this was more exciting. The secret glances, mouthing endearments when no one is looking, brushing hands or shoulders on purpose, and the contentment of being close to each other when you happened to gather together with your other coworkers. Each day, you leave the office separately only to end up in each other's embrace at night. In the morning, you arrive to work separately too, eagerly waiting for the day to be over so you'd be together again. It was fun and exciting, so much so that you felt like a giddy teenager experiencing your first relationship ever.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this," Jaehyun complained, nuzzling his nose on the crook of your neck. He kissed your skin and inhaled your scent. "I miss you."

"You miss me? We see each other every day," you chided softly, turning so you were face to face with him. You snaked your arms around his neck and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. Other than the pantry, this file room has also become your secret meeting place. "We practically live together since you're always at my place."

Jaehyun exhaled sharply, unconvinced. "That's not enough."

You tapped his chest twice, pulling away from him. "We're not kids, Jaehyun. Let's make do with what we get."

Jaehyun sighed, leaning on the shelves and then crossing his arm over his chest. "We can get more than this, you know?"

"How do you suggest we do that?" you questioned curiously. You're not convinced that his idea will be a good one but you wanted to hear what he had to say.

"I could try talking to the HR about the ban."

You scoffed. "That's your big idea?"

Jaehyun just shrugged. "Not really. It's part of the idea. Would you like to meet my parents?"

Your brows are tied in a knot. "Out of nowhere?"

"Yeah. I told them I am dating this intelligent, charming, and lovely woman. They can't wait to meet you."

Well, that was sudden. Despite your previous physical relationship, you haven't been official for long but he's already talking about meeting his parents. Jaehyun had to leave before you could give him an answer because a coworker walked into the file room. You seemed unnerved about the invitation but you were actually ruminating on it all day, weighing the pros and cons of this meeting.

That night, Jaehyun couldn't go to your place because of a prior engagement. But when he called you right before going to sleep, you told him you'd love to meet his parents. There should be no pressure, it's just a brunch. You told yourself to relax and not overthink it.

And so the weekend came. Jaehyun looked majestic in his Prada cardigan, leaning on his car as he waited for you in the parking lot of your apartment. He greeted you with a sweet smile and an even sweeter kiss, followed by a compliment on your hair and your outfit.

"You smell nice too, damn," he added, smelling your neck and tightening his hug. You just giggled, letting him sniff you all he wanted. It was all cute and adorable until he was pulling you by the waist and pressing his crotch on you. "Should we just stay in?"

You laughed heartily. "Let's go, Jaehyun."

"Call me 'baby' and I'll listen to you."

"Baby," you obliged but your tone was stern instead of endearing.

Jaehyun threw his head back, groaning. "God, that backfired. We really should just stay in."

You pushed him aside, opened the car door, and then locked yourself in his shotgun. Jaehyun was grinning when he rounded the car to sit in the driver's seat. He wasn't done flirting with you though because as soon as he was inside, he pulled you into a kiss--long, sweet, passionate. Oh, how he made you feel so beautiful.

He drove halfway across the city, locking your hands together and singing along to the song on his stereo. When you finally reached your destination, you were in awe of the luxurious home before you. You had an inkling that Jaehyun might have been rich but not this rich. His family house is hidden behind a high fence, probably ten feet high, and inside was a literal mansion surrounded by well-kept landscaping. If you're gonna be honest, the display of wealth made you nervous.

"Intimidating, isn't it?" said the familiar voice of a woman. When you spun to see who it was, your jaw dropped upon seeing Jenna walking towards you and Jaehyun. She grinned at your shocked expression. "It's scarier inside."

"Jen," Jaehyun chided. "Don't scare her."

"Jenna?" you exclaimed. Your friend flashed a silly grin.

"I knew something was going on between you two."

You shook your hands to dismiss her. "Wait, before that. What are you doing here?"

Jaehyun interjected. "She lives here."

You did a double-take, checking if you heard it wrong. Jenna let out a hearty laughter. "Sorry, hon. I would've told you but that would ruin the whole point of being undercover."

"Undercover?" you echoed, touching your temples. "Wait, how about explaining it to me like I'm five?"

Jaehyun and Jenna laughed before the latter guided you inside the house. On your way, she explained that she and Jaehyun are siblings. And that the company's CEO was their older brother. It was straight out of a soap opera and Jaehyun assured you that your reaction was understandable. He also apologized for not telling you about it sooner.

"It's fine, I was just... surprised, I guess?" you blurted. You reach the garden area where a group of people are happily chatting at a dining table. Jenna walked ahead of you, tapped an elder woman on the shoulder, and told her you had arrived.

This elder woman was beautiful and had an air of elegance about her. She stood up from her chair to welcome you.

"Hi, Mom," Jaehyun greeted, giving his mom a peck on the cheek. "This is my girlfriend, y/n."

"Hello, y/n. Wow, Jaehyun wasn't lying when he said you were very lovely." His Mom beamed at you, and contrary to what you expected, she was warm and sweet, ushering you to sit next to her at the dining table while asking you about the journey here.

You met his brother, a face you were so intimidated to see because you knew he was the Big Boss of your workplace. He was cordial and well-mannered, and so was his wife. You didn't ask about his father but based on their conversation, you figured out that he had passed away. You knew better than to ask. Brunch hasn't started yet, but you were already gathered in the garden. At first, you thought it would only be you and them, but a group of people arrived and you found out you were meeting Jaehyun's extended family too.

"We're Koreans. Family means so much to us," Jenna told you. "Not all of us are close though."

Brunch began shortly after their cousins arrived. The food was great and the conversations were engaging enough. Most of the attention was on you because apparently, you were the 'first girl he brought home in three years' according to Jaehyun's brother. Jenna confirmed it too. After the satisfying meal of hearty Korean food, you all dispersed to your own little circles. Jenna dragged you to the patio, chatting with you and apologizing for not telling you about her relationship with Jaehyun. You told her it was fine and that you understood why she had to do it. Jaehyun followed closely behind you two.

"So, are you gonna marry my brother?" Jenna asked and the question made your heart race.

"Stop calling me that. It's giving me chills," Jaehyun interjected so Jenna hissed at him.

"Shut up, I'm not talking to you."

You nervously laughed. "We just started dating."

"Yes, so, is he a marriage prospect or not?" Jenna pressed on.

Jaehyun was the one who said, "We haven't talked about that yet."

"Jaehyun, go away," Jenna complained, pushing her brother but he didn't budge. Jaehyun pulled a face at her to which she responded by lunging her tiny frame at his large physique. They bickered for a moment while you watched in fondness.

Then you said, "He's right, we haven't thought that far ahead."

Jaehyun grabbed his sister's wrists to stop her from hitting him, and then he stared at you, looking befuddled. "We haven't?"

You stared back at him, wondering if you had said wrong. "Have we? I know we haven't. Did I forget?"

"No, you didn't," he replied, letting go of Jenna's arms and straightening up. "I mean, we haven't talked about it yet. But I was already thinking that far ahead."

You blinked, surprised by his confession. Jenna snickered and said, "You can't say that so openly, dear brother. You're putting her on the spot."

"I'm putting her on the spot? You're putting her on the spot! You started this discussion!" Jaehyun whined. You couldn't help laughing at the rare sight. He'd always appeared well-mannered, calm, and collected. Seeing him bicker with his sister made him even more endearing.

"Why not? You guys aren't getting any younger. This is an important question to ask!"

While the siblings bickered, your thoughts screamed loud enough that they deafened you from external noises. Marriage was never an issue to you, you can get married anytime you want as long as you want to. But only now were you realizing that you've gotten old and this was in fact an important question to ask.

Still, now is a little too early for it. Truth be told, you don't know if you want to take this relationship to that level yet. Sure, you're in love but with marriage, love is not the only factor that needs to be considered. Jaehyun is from an affluent family with influence and money, you don't know if you want to be a part of it. Even if you did want to be, you're not sure if his family would want you for him. So far, they had been nothing but nice. Then again, it will be no surprise if these families have criteria that you might be too middle-class to comprehend.

"Baby," Jaehyun prompted, nudging your shoulder. "What were you thinking?"

"You," you replied absentmindedly. Jaehyun grinned coyly.

"Really? We're in the middle of a family gathering, but I think can make up a good excuse to leave."

You rolled your eyes at his lascivious thoughts. "No that's not what I meant, dumbass."

Jaehyun chuckled. "That's a shame. I was ready for it. No, actually, I'm always ready for it."

"For what?"

He pressed his nose on the side of your head, sniffing your hair before whispering, "For my naughty little girlfriend who randomly gets these sudden urges to ride me till I'm spent and dripping."

Your face flared at the lewd image that formed in your mind. Holding your cheeks, you walked away from him in embarrassment. Jaehyun laughingly called out to you. "You'll dry me up in no time, baby."

You glanced back at him, scandalized. "Oh my god, be quiet!"

"What?" he mimed, looking around. "No one heard me."

"I did and you're gross," Jenna grimaced before walking away too.

It's been a week since the family luncheon. Aside from the fact that you now know Jenna and Jaehyun are siblings, nothing much has changed in your relationship. You admit that it was weird with Jenna at first, in a way that whenever you have your usual girl talk, you suddenly remember who she was and just daze. It took some getting used to. Same case with Jaehyun who gets ordered around the office for being a newbie and him doing everything he is told to do like he's not the literal son of the company's founder. You realized just how much humility these two have and how impressive it was that they were raised this way instead of the regular snobbish rich kids.

Your boyfriend's identity had you ruminating about the future of your relationship. What would be the reactions you'd get if people found out you were dating a coworker--especially if it's revealed that he was actually the CEO's brother? You'd surely be called a Cinderella, scoring a jackpot by dating a billionaire's son. People might think it's magical, while most will assume you were in it for the money. Either way, the possibility of your life being put under public scrutiny terrifies you.

"GUESS WHAT?" Tiffany barged into the meeting room, startling you and Jenna. You clutched your heart, beating rapidly in its cage while Jenna gave your coworker a stern look.

"You gotta stop with the dramatic entrances, Tiff," said Jenna.

"Jung Jaehyun just got named CHRO."

Jenna scoffed. "Yeah, and Jung Jenna just became COO. Jaehyun would die and get reborn again before he takes an executive role in this company. Shut the door."

Tiffany shook her head as he approached you, pushing the door close as she went. "I'm serious. Check the company page. They just announced it."

You toggled on your tablet and pulled up the company portal. And there it was, the announcement of the company's latest personnel changes. Jung Jaehyun was indeed the Chief Human Resources Officer.

"Why would he take that job?" you questioned, genuinely curious. Jenna told you before that Jaehyun was supposed to come in as a department head since his education and experience made him qualified for the position, but he still chose to do the undercover thing. Now he's suddenly a CHRO?

"No way, he's not!"

"Apparently, he is. And guess what was the first thing he asked to change in the company policy?"

"What?" you and Jenna asked in a chorus. Tiffany ducked to toggle on the screen and opened another announcement.

"He abolished the dating ban among coworkers. Effective immediately."

Your jaw hung open, while Jenna started laughing like a maniac. Then she said, "Jung Jaehyun, that sly little bastard."

"Does that mean he has a girlfriend here?"

Jenna eyed you. "Yeah, he obviously has a girlfriend here."

"Or he could be sympathizing with the people here who want to date but can't because of the ban," you suggested, trying to challenge Jenna.

"Yeah, like you," Jenna teased. You just rolled your eyes, giving up on challenging her. "He must really like this girl to go through this much trouble. I didn't know he could do something admirable."

"No way!" Tiffany exclaimed, eyes still glued to the screen. You and Jenna turned to her. "Jaehyun is the CEO's younger brother?"

Jenna exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes. "Oh, boy. I guess this is where it starts." She walked away, bidding you quick goodbyes before disappearing to the door. You and Tiffany stayed, waiting for the meeting to begin.

The next few days at work were filled with excited chatters and gossip. During the company's annual staff meeting, Jaehyun and Jenna are introduced as family members of the company. Their positions were also made official, sparking up a debate among the employees on whether they deserved their posts or if it was plain nepotism. You didn't join any of these discussions, but when you're alone with Jaehyun, you'd tease him for being a nepo baby and he'd just laugh at it.

"Should we go to work together today?" Jaehyun asked, nuzzling his nose on your neck.

"No," you replied briskly, scoffing as you pulled away from him. Jaehyun, a lot stronger than you were, grabbed your waist and pulled you back to bed with him.

Your apartment has never been this warm. Love emanated from the walls and you've never felt this content with a relationship. Jaehyun seemed to have made this small studio apartment his favorite place to be and you're not complaining at all. He would spend the night here almost every day. You would sleep in each other's arms, and wake up still cuddling.

"I made coffee," Jaehyun would boast in the morning. "And pancakes too but they're not as fluffy as the ones from the breakfast cafe."

"I love the pancakes you make," you would tell him.

And he'd say, "Thanks, I love you too."

He'd ask to drive you to work but you'd decline. It's been three months since he became head of HR, but the people at work are still clueless about your relationship. You liked it that way, but you also feel bad for Jaehyun who would often invite you to lunch or for coffee. It's not that you don't want to, it's mainly because you'd rather not be talked about. Jaehyun seemed to just take it in stride. He'd ask once in a while, and if you declined, he'd give up and try again next time. He's been most understanding of your reasons.

But then again, he's Jung Jaehyun; he will never let up until things go his way. That said, he walked into your office on a Wednesday afternoon, with a massive bouquet of red roses in his hand, and an even bigger smile on his lips. Your colleagues went into a frenzy, hurrying over to greet him and chat with him. Questions were thrown his way; ones like, 'What are you doing here?' or 'Is there anything we can do for you?' and 'Can we help you?' And then there are also comments like, 'I knew you looked familiar! You were the CEO's brother!' or 'You should have told us who you were!' and 'Man, I didn't overwork you, did I?'

Jaehyun was courteous and greeted everyone back, but after he was done with the pleasantries, he locked his eyes on you--his target. He waded through the crowd, his feet walking straight to where you were sitting quietly in your cubicle. You had hoped he would ignore you, or that no one would notice you. But that was impossible since you knew he was there for no other reason except to see you.

"Are those flowers for someone?" one of your colleagues asked and you mentally cursed him for asking because now, everyone's curious who the flowers were for.

"There you are," Jaehyun beamed, peering over the cubicle. You smiled sheepishly, taking a peek at your coworkers' shocked expressions.

"Can I help you, Mr. Jung?" you smiled back, hoping he'd take your cue and stop whatever he was trying to pull.

"No. I'm here to pick you up. We have dinner plans, remember?" he grinned, seemingly enjoying the way you're all flustered and shy. "You look great. Looks like we can go straight to the restaurant without changing."

"You're having dinner? Is it a company dinner?" Carl questioned, his hand raised in the air like an elementary student.

Tiffany was quick to slap his hand away. "Gosh, Carl, you're so clueless."

Jaehyun offered you the flower. "Shall we go then, my love?"

You've never heard a crowd gasp in unison before, but now you have. Cheeks burning in embarrassment, you took the bouquet and pushed yourself up. Jaehyun had a content smile on his lips when he offered to hold your hand, which you accepted.

"Jung Jaehyun, you really are a sly little bastard."

"You love me for it," he chimed.

And so, hand in hand, you and Jaehyun walked out of your office as a couple.

[fin]

[lowkeyrobin]

Omg mcyt when their crush asks them out, but the reader is just surprising chill? Like, it's so casual it's insane just a "Hey, you wanna go out sometime?" while scrolling through sm and chillling lmao

oooooo okay okay I see the vision ; thank you for requesting!!

MCYT ; nonchalant ask-out

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, & quackity

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

you were sitting on the train to go visit some friends for a stream

you were sitting next to the window, facing the back of the train, while he was on the opposite side, also sitting next to the window, although his backpack was perched so he could rest an arm on top of it

you turn to him and just kinda ask as you're passing a field of cows

"you wanna go bowling sometime? like, as a date? it's fine if you don't wanna" you shrug

Tommy just blinks as his cheeks get a little red

"Uh, sure. I mean, yeah!"

you guys get to where you're going and while he's with tubbo, more secluded from you, tells him about it

"y/n like, casually asked me out on the train and I said yes! I don't know what happened, it was so weird"

"they're concerningly laid back about everything, you know this"

"...true"

TUBBO

you were at a conservatory (flower museum basically) and enjoying all the pretty flowers and plants

you turn to him like "Hey, would you ever go out on a date with me?"

he's silent for a moment before he responds

"is there a right answer?"

"genuine question"

"uh... sure"

he just texts Tommy like "bro y/n just casually asked me out at the flower place wtf"

he's slightly concerned but you enjoy the rest of your time at the conservatory and get a bunch of great pictures

RANBOO

you were doing a stream watching flushed away

lots of laughter and fucking around considering you were on the couch sitting next to each other with a camera in front of you

"what is happening right now???"

"hey, Ran?"

"hm?"

"you wanna go to dinner sometime? like a date?"

chat explodes and you're trending on Twitter before he can even respond

"uhm, uh, yeah, sure"

"cool"

they later tweet a "that was unscripted, and weird. y/n is never streaming w me again"

you reply with "yeah, sure pal"

"okay y/ns steaming w me tmr night stay tuned!!"

FREDDIE BADLINU

you guys + harry were making puppets at his place for a little prank, and making your friends into puppets as well

you were making him while he was making Tommy, and harry was making kermit (??), making some conversation for the camera

you're mostly working on the floor next to Harry because the table wasn't big enough for the three of you

you look up and just kinda blurt it out

"Hey, Freddie, you wanna go rollerskating sometime?"

harrys the first to speak "what the hell?"

"sorry, bad time"

"wh-no, actually, I'd love too" Freddie smiles

he later edits that with some music like it's 2019, pixel meme glasses and all

"got a date, wwwww"

NIKI NIHACHU

you were both playing on the qsmp, and taking care of em

niki passed over some food bc you were building something for her and ran out of food

"Hey, niki, would you ever go on a date with me?"

"wh- oh, uh, I mean, yeah!"

"cool"

her chat explodes and so does yours LMAO

ppl clip it and it's a hot topic on qsmp tumblr for a week or so

you tweet after stream "date ideas, GO"

niki responds with "you have to come here first, y/n/n 😭"

ALEX QUACKITY

you were out exploring the city together for a little vlog on your alt channel

you were talking and having a good time and whatnot, exploring stores and restaurants and parks

"hey, Alex, would you ever like, date me, I guess?"

"yeah- I mean, uhm, I guess so"

"cool"

when you guys get back to the hotel he instantly gets on a call w some friends, whom are streaming, and quickly rants about it, leaving you nameless tho

you see the clipped bit on YouTube the next day and can't help but smile cause honestly w move

[perfinn]

you're out of touch, i'm out of time

aegon ii targaryen x reader

wc: 3.3k

summary: you have a tendency to pick up strays, but when you pick up the king of westeros (who was supposed to have died hundreds of years ago), things begin to get a little complicated

cw: NSFW, f!reader, aegon being a creep (shocker), aegon being deeply pathetic (also shocker), aegon is drunk or possibly hung over, attempted sex (aegon begs for a handjob but doesn't get one)

read on ao3, divider by saradika

You’ve always been too nice. You’re aware of this unfortunate fact, though you staunchly refuse to admit it’s a weakness. Has this trait left you without necessities from time to time because you gave them to someone who needed them more? Yes, but you sleep better at night knowing that that homeless girl had sturdy new shoes, even if you had to walk home barefoot. You can always handle a bit of discomfort if it means improving someone’s day marginally. It’s not as though you’re without any sense of self preservation– you know when to say no, or when to walk away. When someone is out for their own self interest, or just plain dangerous. 

You’re smart about it. Mostly. Sometimes, though, your sympathy gene takes over, and you approach the danger because you feel there’s more beneath the surface. So far, it hasn’t put you in any troubling positions. Still, first time for everything. And as you stand on the edge of the pavement, toes of your shoes swinging down into the gutter as you sway back and forth, you wonder if you’re about to break your successful streak.

There’s a man in the busy city street, raving and desperately trying to get someone’s attention. Usually, he’s the type you’d regretfully ignore for your own safety, but he seems different. He doesn’t seem like the usual King’s Landing crackheads. He’s dressed too nice, for starters. Strange, yes, but still nice. In fact, it looks to be better quality than anything you own. And he’s young– which isn't uncommon in this situation, but it always makes your heart ache when they’re young. 

He looks desperate, terrified, and as another person ducks their head and walks past him, you feel yourself moving toward him. You don't know why. Maybe because you know if you leave now, you’ll not sleep tonight for the sheer guilt of passing him by. He spots you making your way over and turns to you, seeming to hope against hope that you’re going to acknowledge him. 

“Hi,” you say in a calm, even voice. It's a tone you’ve gotten quite good at. You’re not professionally trained by any means, but these things generally come with the territory. “Let's get you out of the road, okay? You could get hurt.”

“What the fuck are those things?” He demands of you as a car stops to let you take him across. You wave your thanks to the driver, who looks mildly disgruntled, and take the young man gently by the arms to get him onto the pavement. “Where are the horses?”

You know he must be confused, so you’re gentle with him. “There's no horses,” you say, still holding his arms as he finally looks away from the disappearing car and into your eyes. He looks so deeply afraid, but you notice he does take a moment to look you over. You let him, trying to see the best in him and hoping it's just curiosity. It doesn't matter right now anyway, you tell yourself. “Are you okay?”

“No!” He snaps. “Course I’m not bloody okay! Where am I?!”

“You’re in King’s Landing,” you say. “Let's get you somewhere quiet, okay? Are you hungry?”

“This,” he laughs in disbelief, looking around. “Is not King’s Landing, I know what King’s Landing looks like!”

“Okay,” you nod. “I believe you. Let's go sit down, I’ll buy you something to eat.”

The man looks at you with what you think is an offended scowl, but the offer of food does seem to intrigue him. “And wine?”

“No,” you say, and he deflates. 

He scratches at his chin, but nods in agreement. “Yes, fine.”

You smile, a bit of relief easing the worry in your ribs. Sometimes people won't cooperate, or they’ll turn you away when you say you won't buy them booze or give them money outright. This young man seems to be content enough without wine, so you wave your hand and lead him down the road toward the nearest fast food joint. 

He follows behind you, panicked eyes still looking around as though he's never seen the world before. It's not wonder, but something close to anger, indignation maybe. You make it to a diner you like, opening the door for him. He's clearly astounded by the ugly cacophony of colours inside, but you can't blame him. You don't come here for the aesthetics. 

“Go sit down?” You tell him gently, framing it like a suggestion as you point to your favourite booth. He scowls, but does as bid. 

The teen behind the counter takes little notice of your strange company. It's King’s Landing, he's probably seen something ten times as strange already today. Once you’ve paid, you join your new stray, sitting down across from him and folding your hands on the table. 

“So, what's your name?” You ask him, and he looks away from the bustling street outside the window to stare at you in what you assume is disbelief. 

“What’s my name?” He echoes, leaning slightly over the table. “Are you serious?”

You blink. That’s… not a question anyone’s ever been mad at you for. You learned quickly which questions to steer clear of to avoid pissing people off.

He scoffs, leaning back in his seat and tapping a dirtied fingernail against the peeling surface of the table. “Aegon,” he says, almost experimentally. Like he's testing the waters. 

You nod politely, and tell him yours.

He stares at you. “Nothing? Aegon? You’ve not heard the name Aegon?”

“Well, of course I have,” you say, confused smile pulling at your lips. “It's a common enough name. I think I knew a guy in school named Aegon–”

“You have been to school?” Aegon asks, eyebrows shooting up and a laugh spilling from his mouth. He leans back, dragging his hands over his clammy face. “Have I been drugged?!”

You’d put serious money on that being a resounding yes. 

“This is crazy,” he says, leaning forward again. He says your name slowly, glancing around before his eyes land on you. “Can you tell me what's going on?”

You bite your lip, thankful when the cashier calls out your order number. You rush to get up and get it, fearing you may be way out of your depth this time. He talks like he’s never seen the world before, and his comment about you having gone to school… none of it makes any sense. You’ve never even had the thought of dropping someone off with someone who’s better equipped to handle problems of this magnitude, but Aegon has you really considering it. When you return with the tray of food and set it down, Aegon has the specials menu in hand and is squinting at it. 

“I got you what I usually get,” you say, setting the tray down and placing his wrapped burger in front of him, leaving the fries on the tray. “Aegon, I want to help you, but I’m at a bit of a loss.”

“That certainly makes two of us,” Aegon says, unwrapping the burger curiously. “What meat is this?”

“It’s beef,” you tell him, unwrapping your own. He watches as you take a bite of yours, and he nods as though in satisfaction before taking a hefty bite of his. “Aegon, I want to understand what’s going on in your head. Can you just…”

You’re not sure how to say it, really. It’s invasive, and you don’t want him to feel like you believe he’s crazy, or lying.

“What’s your deal?”

He chews slowly on his burger, eyeing you suspiciously. “My deal,” he echoes, lips turned down in a scowl. “Is that I’m the King of Westeros.”

You nod slowly, biting into your burger so you don’t have to answer right away. You hope if you stay silent long enough, he’ll feel compelled to keep talking. 

“King Aegon,” he says slowly, like you’re the deluded one. “Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, Protector of the Realm, all the rest. Are you serious?”

You swallow your mouthful and nod. You’re not particularly well versed in history, but the titles ring a bell. It’s some sort of messiah complex, you’d wager. Trying your best not to seem dismissive, you pull out your phone. “Let me see,” you say. 

“What’s that?” He asks, leaning forward and trying to snatch it from you. You move it out of his way, yelping softly in contrition. 

“My phone!” You say. “I’m just looking you up, Aegon.”

“You’re what?” He says, looking horrified. “Give me that!”

“Dude, no! Let me just–” You stand up from your seat to be out of his reach, hurriedly typing the name he’d told you into the search bar. “Look, I know the name Targaryen, that’s the Conqueror's name!”

“Yes! Aegon the Conqueror!” He cries. “You’re finally making sense!”

“What? No, I mean Daenerys!”

“Who!?”

“Aegon, sit back down!” You snap, and he pauses in his pursuit of your phone, stunned into silence by your firm tone. Slowly, he returns to his seat, picking up a fry to eat it. 

“Only because I want to,” he says childishly. 

You frown at him, shaking your head before looking back at your phone as it pulls up the results for your search. 

‘Aegon II Targaryen, also known as Aegon the Elder, was the sixth Targaryen king to sit the Iron Throne, succeeding his father, Viserys I Targaryen, as Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.’

The search pulls up a picture as well, one of those terribly done paintings from the dark ages. It’s hard to say whether the Aegon in front of you looks much like the one in the painting, but he does have the same pale blonde hair and violet eyes. He’s a lot more pathetic than the portrait, too. He has the qualities of a wet cat, and you hate that it’s somewhat endearing. When you keep scrolling, you find a painting that can’t have been contemporary. This is a more detailed portrait, likely from half a century ago, where Aegon is covered in burns and lies dead in a carriage. 

You look up, meeting the wary eyes of the confused but un-burned man before you, and slowly sit back down. You know that he isn’t actually the king from nearly a millennium ago, but there’s an uncanny quality about him that makes you want to doubt the logical truth. His clothes, for one. You don’t know many homeless guys with such fine embroidery on their clothes. And there’s his features… you know them to be Valyrian, but rarely does anyone still pop up with the stark blond and violet irises. You remember well enough from your high school history classes that the Targaryen dynasty had those features.

“What does your little brick do?”

You blink, looking down at it and pulling up the contemporary portrait – part of you tells you not to show him the other. He scowls at it, but nods. “Seven hells, that’s not flattering. Where did you get this miniature? You have this and yet claim not to know me? What game do you play?”

You sigh. He truly doesn’t understand, does he? 

“Aegon, what year do you think it is?”

He rears back and regards you with more suspicion. “129 AC,” he says.

“And what were you doing before this?” 

“I will not tell you that,” he says. “You’re one of Rhaenyra’s spies, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know who Rhaenyra is,” you say softly. “I’m sorry, Aegon, I’m not a history buff.”

“History–” He stops, and goes deathly silent for a long moment, as though the whole situation is finally processing for him. You wonder if it’s the stench of wine that hangs off him explains his slow processing. “What year do you think it is?”

You tell him the year, even tack today’s date on for him. He stares are you, and you can see his brain buffering yet again. 

“Seven hells,” he murmurs. You find you share a similar sentiment. 

He picks up his burger and begins to eat it slowly. He’s silent for a long while, eyes seeming far away as he contemplates. You try not to stare at him, but it's no easy task. 

“This is going to sound crazy,” he says after a long while. “But I believe I may have travelled… through time.”

“I’d say so, yeah,” you respond. At this point, it's the only explanation. You’d usually say something about eliminating all the impossible options, but that just doesn't work here. Time travel is impossible, or it should be. And it's possible Aegon is just suffering from a deeply intense messiah complex. But that doesn't seem right. Your instincts haven't led you wrong before, you’re not about to ignore them now. 

“What am I going to do?” asks Aegon.

You want to tell him you’re going to try to find a way to get him back to his own time, but you’re struck once more with the image of him burned and twisted, dead in a carriage. How can you send him back to his fate knowing his grisly end?

You take in the man in front of you, this historical figure you’d never heard of until five minutes ago, and bite your lip. “We’ll figure it out,” you promise him. “You… can stay with me until we do.”

That’s probably dumb, and you’ll probably regret it. But not more than you would regret leaving him out on the streets.

“I suppose,” sighs Aegon like he’s spoiled for choice. You get up to ask for a bag for your food, glancing back as Aegon chews sadly on his burger. 

You get Aegon back to your place, and he wanders into the flat ahead of you. You watch him go with a soft huff, rolling your eyes. If everything else hadn’t convinced you, his attitude is proof positive that he’s from the past. He has all the entitlement of a prince and none of the consideration of those around him that modern men have (sometimes) gained. 

Your flat isn't much, two bedrooms and mostly paid for by your university. You had a flatmate for a time, but their sudden withdrawal left you without anyone and the school doesn’t seem to have noticed. Aegon can stay in the empty room until you figure him out. 

Aegon’s standing in your living room, staring in wonder at the decor you’ve collected over the course of your degree, at your television, maybe he’s just looking at all of it. He’s turning in a slow circle, eyes narrowed. 

“This is very nice for a commoner. Very strange, but it is not… disgusting.” He pauses in his assessing, looking between you and the ridiculous tapestry you purchased one night after far too many drinks. “Who is this man?”

“Oh, he’s this guy from a movie,” you say, not really processing that he won’t understand what a movie is. He stands there, dumbstruck, while you go to put your leftover food in the fridge. 

“A what?”

“Just… don’t worry about it. There’s going to be a lot for you to take in, but with any luck you won’t be here too long.” You come back over to him, taking him in. He looks out of place standing here in his king’s threads. “Let me get you something to wear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this,” he says, shifting and taking in your clothes. “Where is your father? Your husband?”

“My father is in my hometown, and I don’t have a husband.”

“You live without a man?” He eyes you suspiciously. “A whore?”

“Okay,” you say, gently grabbing him by the shoulders and walking him over to the sofa. “Sit here, I have some men’s clothes lying around. Do not move.”

Aegon huffs, rolling his eyes and sitting back with folded arms. You wonder, as you go into your room to find something for him, if he’s heard the word ‘no’ very much in his life. It wouldn’t seem that way, but sometimes the way he reacts to you telling him off leaves you thinking otherwise. He’s a bigger mystery than you’ve ever faced, but something tells you he’s worth it.

You emerge after a while to see him flicking through the book you’d left on your coffee table, frowning. He looks up when you enter, setting the book down. “Your home is peculiar,” he informs you. 

“I know,” you say, handing him the soft clothes you’d found. “Student housing is kind of a lottery. You can get changed in the spare room, if you want. I’m going to go shower. If you get hungry, your leftovers are in that big white box there, okay?”

“Yes, yes, whatever.” 

You watch him enter the near-empty bedroom and shut the door, heaving a heavy sigh before you go off to your own room. You don't shower. Instead, you pull out your computer and set out to learn all that you possibly can about Aegon. 

What you learn twists your stomach into knots so tight you feel that they would trap the nausea that grips your throat from escaping. Aegon was no saint, no, but what you find is that his life is steeped in tragedy. If he believes himself to be king now but remains unburned by his cousin’s dragon, he must be near the end of his life; but the worst of his troubles have yet to begin. 

It is strange to think of the pathetic and bratty man in your flat as growing into the role of a king, if one could say he ever did. He seems nothing but a lost young man, unloved but for the power he afforded his Hightower family. 

The reports on him are so extensive and exhaustive that an hour has passed before you realise you haven’t been disturbed. You get up from your desk, wondering if Aegon has somehow wandered out of your flat and back onto the street.

When you open the door, you’re greeted by the sight of your kitchen cabinets strewn open, and your cheap bottle of vodka now empty on the counter. Aegon is sprawled on your sofa, cradling a novelty ceramic beer mug you won in a pub quiz in your first year. 

“Seven hells,” you mumble, going over to him and snatching the cup from him to be met with his whining protests. You sniff the cup, nose scrunching in disgust at the acetone-y smell. “Not even a mixer…”

Aegon looks up at you, trying to reach for the cup and whining your name. At least he changed into the sweats. The King’s Landing University jumper rather suits him, actually. 

“Please,” he says, looking even more closely akin to a wet cat. He seems on the verge of tears. “You’re pretty, do you know?”

“I’ve heard,” you say, setting the cup down on the coffee table and turning to him.

He grabs your wrist, tugging you closer with surprising strength considering how sloshed he is. “You’re so pretty,” he whispers. He almost sings your name. “Will you get me off?”

“Wh- Aegon!” You snap, tearing your wrist away. “No!”

“Please! Just your hand, you’ve got such soft hands!”

“Aegon,” you hiss. “No. You’re drunk. Even if I wanted to, that wouldn't be okay. You don't know what you're saying.”

Aegon pouts at you, falling back against the sofa and letting out a soft hiccup. “That doesn't make sense.”

“Maybe not in your time,” you say, grabbing him a blanket and laying it over him. “Gods- just- just try to get some sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning when you're fully sober.”

“I’ll die before that,” he says, snuggling up to the soft blanket with a ridiculous cartoon of a wolf on it. Another of your decor purchases you thought would be hilarious in the moment. You grab his cup and pour what’s left of the vodka into the sink before gathering up your remaining bottles and vowing to take them to the cabinet in your room with a lock. 

“Maybe. But if you vomit on my carpet, you’ll be paying the cleaning bill, your grace.”

[marikosenwrites]

bungo stray dogs dating headcanons

a/n: note this is for all dazai ranpo atsushi chuuya and akutagawa (in that order) simps <3 my bbys they're all short

warning: names called, kind of ooc(?)

gn!reader

dazai osamu

✧this guy is head over heels for you

✧literally

✧will protect you in anyway possible after losing odasaku (sobb)

✧let's say you're in the agency so he sees you like almost everyday

✧you're the motivation that makes him go to the agency??

✧asks you to do a double suicide with him when you least expect it

✧you say, "some time."

✧DAZAI POUTS SO HARD

✧you chuckle, and ruffle his hair.

✧suddenly. he sits on your lap leaning his head on your shoulder-

✧SLEEPS the day goes by so quickly, and soon, it's already time to get off work and go to dinner with him

✧so you wake him up, "'samu? you said you reserved a table at the restaurant nearby, right?"

✧he jolts up excitedly. "yeah, i did! we're leaving, kunikidaa~"

✧you wave to kunikida on the way out and head for the restaurant

✧yall have a great dinner <3 and head back to the dorm, whereas you and dazai share a dorm!!

✧you take a quick bath and so does dazaiii he is so unbelievably fast

✧he sleeps like a koala. you're his tree.

✧you sometimes almost suffocate and then you wake up and kinda move dazai away from you

✧he grabs tighter.

✧shit ya gonna die but...

"n/n... don't leave me...stay..."

edogawa ranpo

✧you accompany ranpo on any case possible, if kunikida lets you go with him.

✧often times he does, and you're grateful for that

✧though there was this one time that you couldnt accompany ranpo on his case because you had to go for an urgent mission kunikida assigned you

✧he ignored you for so long 😭

✧"r-ranpo... i'm sorry, i had to attend the mission..."

✧he doesn't reply, unlike his usual self

✧you just hug him from behind and hand him a snack, a gesture saying that you're sorry

✧eventually he gives in and leans into your hug

✧you guys chill on the couch while eating popcorn

✧"y/n, y/n, do you wanna hear how the world's GREATEST detective solved today's case?" he asks you enthusiastically (is there a typo)

✧as a good partner, OFC you say yes then he rambles on and on while you eat popcorn and occasionally feed him some

✧you guys soon head to sleep

✧not after you guys take a warmmm bath together in your bathtub, though

✧as you tuck him in, you also give him a big kiss on his forehead, like you always do

✧and get in the bed yourself

"mm. much better. night night, sugar."

nakajima atsushi

✧this guy is so soft for you

✧protect him please and thank you

✧though ofc he wouldnt want you to face akutagawa by yourself

✧that's the only thing he wouldnt want you to protect him from

✧though, it would be nice if you protected him from kunikida's wrath of hell

✧he would come and find you to get to work, if you aren't already living together already

✧you guys walk hand-in-hand to the agency or if you live far, you guys meet up at the train station

✧he sits next to you or near to you in the office

✧kunikida's always complaining how he's always talking to you to his therapist (if he has one i feel like he needs one though)

✧is always paired with you on missions

✧"n/n! are you sure you're okay?" atsushi asks you worriedly.

✧"atsushi, i only bumped into a mannequin by accident-"

✧"are you sure??"

✧you OFTEN need to reassure him that you're fine and it was just a small scratch or something like that

✧he asks multiple times during the day and when you guys sleep he's just like searches for scratches that you're hiding not very obviously cuz he's worried

✧likes holding you when you sleep and you just lean into the crook of his neck like <333 you help him get rid of his nightmares

"good night, n/n... sleep well..."

nakahara chuuya

✧best fucking partner i swear

✧head over heels for you part 2

✧is kind of worried about protecting you if you get targeted by the public

✧only kind of though *wink wink*

✧his ability can protect you well and protect the city

✧if you ever get missions, asks you to send all the files to him just in case you go for more than a day and no one knows where you went

✧"baby, make sure to send me the files before you leave for the mission, alright?"

✧"mhm... i'll make sure to send it tonight, then. just in case i forget tomorrow morning."

✧you don't get lost too often though so he doesn't get to shine TwT

✧when you do though, chuuya gets very very worried and heads to the location to find you

✧always checks if you're okay, if you're heavily injured, fights the guys in like one minute and he's done and then carries you back to pm hq

✧if you're not as heavily injured but still injured (which is often the case if you're lost), still ends the guys in one minute and gets a bandage out of nowhere

✧when he gets home with injuries

✧you get to place kisses on them no matter where they are what they look like

✧sleep with you asking you if you want the big spoon or small spoon

✧you often choose the small spoon

✧rare occasions are that chuuya is heavily injured

✧you and chuuya sleep peacefully <3

"good night, doll. sweet dreams."

akutagawa ryuunosuke

✧akutagawa is clueless about almost everything in a relationship

✧except for that you share affection, i guess??

✧you're always paired with him in missions

✧if you're not akutagawa demands a refund from mori lmao

✧he has gin teach him on the basics of relationships, like what you should do while sharing affection and stuff

✧when you're hurt in a mission he picks you up with rashomon no matter what or how bad your injuries are/injury is, he doesnt care and you need care immediately

✧after picking you up kills the bad guys like "RASHOMON!" that kills them "HOW DARE YOU HURT Y/N?!"

✧"ryuunosuke?? it's only a scratch??" you looked confused to him.

✧"any wound is a fatal wound for you. you don't have an ability, y/n." he states bluntly.

✧you would just kind of bonk his head (so cute omg) and then be like "hmph"

✧he prepares an actual bath for you with bath bubbles and all

✧refuses to join you though he's not used to being completely uncovered in front of someone, even his family/lover

✧after a lot a bit of convincing, you manage to get him in the bath tub with you, relaxing

✧you guys finish bathing with some relaxing in each other's arms

✧he sleeps with a shirt on def but with like boxers on only though

✧he feels better with the shirt cuz rashomon

✧he cuddles you like he's protecting you and stuff

"i love you, y/n. always know that. good night."

a/n: also hoped you liked this! you're always free to request, as long as its in my abilities and i have the time.

©all banners, dividers, and stories are made by marikosenwrites and the pictures in it are from pinterest. i own none of the BUNGO STRAY DOGS/BUNGOU STRAY DOGS/文豪ストレイドッグス characters mentioned here.

[toomuchracket]

falling for you (flatmate!matty x reader)

promptober day 10, and there was nobody else i could have written this for. a fluffy but slightly angsty pining lovesick moment, before the two of you are actually flatmates and you're just babies on nights out in manc. i hope you enjoy!

p.s. yeah, i know the pic is the wrong era for this, lol. but it's alllll about the vibes <3

matty's trying his damnedest not to stare at you right now.

he's failing miserably, though. the copious amount of alcohol in his body is rinsing all the sense out of his brain - well, what little you hadn't already stolen from him when you met him earlier outside your halls of residence, all made-up and glowing - and he really cannot tear his eyes away from you, saying bye to your friends at the door of the nightclub.

matty blinks, and self-awareness hits him like a freight train. nah. he's being weird. he needs to get a grip.

but then you turn towards him, waiting on behalf of both of you in the cloakroom queue, and you smile, and all thoughts about stopping looking at you fly out of matty's head. how can he be expected to focus on anything but that face of yours? the vodka's made your beautiful eyes softer, and a combination of marlboros and mac lipstick have made your lips pouty and kissable. well, more so than usual, matty thinks.

he's so distracted by your beauty that he almost doesn't hear the cloakroom attendant shout him up to the window. stumbling slightly - he'd say over his own feet, you'd say due to drunkenness (and you'd be right) - matty exchanges his two tickets for the jackets you and him had been all but forced to wear to prevent the freezing october air getting to you, and wanders over to you. wordlessly, in a well-rehearsed routine, he slings his own jacket over his shoulder as he helps you into yours.

you murmur a thank you. "you hungry?"

for you, yes. for a kebab, no, matty wishes he could say. but he can't, so he just shakes his head.

"neither am i," you say, helping him zip up his leather jacket. your dexterity has been diminished by your drinking, and one of the fringes on the sleeve of your own coat gets stuck between the metal teeth of his. clearly, your brain has also been affected by the alcohol; you frown at the zip, unable to see why it won't move. "huh?"

matty smiles, moving to help you. "got caught on your coat. sorry, darlin'."

"oh, s'fine. thanks," you reply, as you're unstuck once again. with a smile, you hold a hand out to matty. "shall we?"

like he'd ever say no to you. "we shall."

and the walk back to your uni begins.

if it had been raining, matty would have done the gentlemanly thing and sprung for a taxi. but it isn't, for once; actually, he thinks, it's kind of a perfect night. the sky is inky-black, devoid of any clouds, and the two of you are just drunk enough that the streetlights look just as pretty as the stars you can't see from so far into the city like this. he's more thankful for the cold air now than he was before the two of you went out - after the close heat of the nightclub, and the internal glow of the however many shots you did, the coolness is welcome. that, and it forces you to secure matty's hand in your own for warmth, which is maybe the most perfect aspect of the night, in his opinion.

naturally, then, a pang of heartbreak hits him when you break the hold to rifle through your handbag. when you procure a half-empty pack of cigs, though, it dissipates.

"want one?" you ask, holding the open end of the packet towards matty.

"no thanks, sweetheart," he says. he isn't lying: the thought of anything clouding his vision of you, even cigarette smoke, is unbearable. but then a spark of an idea crackles somewhere in his brain - whether it's in spite of or because of his tipsy state, matty isn't sure, but either way it tells him he shouldn't be so quick to refuse. so, tentatively, he continues speaking. "i'll gladly share one with you, though."

you take your time answering, slowly pulling a cig from the pack and shoving the rest back in your bag, then digging around for your lighter. matty chews his cheeks during this performance, terror that he's overstepped a friendship boundary of some sort beginning to creep up his spine. but then you shrug, and say "alright", and he's fine.

well, he's not fine, actually - the next words that leave your mouth are "need your help to light it, though, matty". 

fuck. his hands so close to your jaw, close enough that he could take hold of it and kiss you before his brain could convince him that it was too much of a risk to your friendship? that's dangerous.

god, he's so drunk. and so definitely in love with you.

what matty is first and foremost, though, is a good friend. shoving down any and all romantic and/or sexual thoughts about you and your lips as best he can (which is, admittedly, not very well), he turns to face you and takes the lighter from your hand. "c'mere then."

when you oblige, silently, and look up at him with your lips parted and those sparkly doe eyes of yours, matty bites the inside of his lip so hard he feels it bleed. christ. this was perhaps a bad idea.

but the cig is right there, waiting to be lit, so he takes a deep breath, cupping the lighter as he flicks the flame into existence and brings it to your mouth. the orange glow illuminates you quite beautifully, and suddenly matty's head is filled with thoughts of you across from him, like you are now, but sat at a candlelit, white-clothed table with a glass of wine and a fancy dinner before you. and, if he's being honest, also with thoughts of you underneath him, face blissful and softly lit by the candles dotted around the room as he fucks you slowly and tenderly.

for fuck's sake. you're his best friend. he can't be thinking of you like that. why can't he stop thinking about you like that tonight? maybe he's going insane. he has no idea. but whatever is compelling him seems to lessen as you step back and exhale the smoke. "thank you, babe."

babe? that's new. but not unwelcome, not at all. matty feels his heart flutter at the pet name.

"s'alright," he smiles. now it's his turn to hold out a hand. "shall we keep going?"

"mhmm," you quickly take another puff of the cig, before sliding it between matty's lips with a giggle and taking his hand; you have to tug him forward a few paces before he regains control of his brain, but he quickly manages it, and the walk home continues.

for the most part, it's uneventful, aside from the alien feeling of your hand constantly in matty's. that is, until he tries to be clever and inhale the cig mid-conversation, and ends up exhaling directly in your face when you turn to listen to him without him fully noticing.

you cough a little bit when the smoke hits you, and matty panics (and internally facepalms. what a fucking idiot he is) as he throws the cig on the ground and stamps it out. "shit! i'm so sorry, sweetheart, i didn't mean that! you alright?"

"s'ok, i'm ok, don't worry," you assure him, waving away both his fretting and the lingering smoke. when it clears from in front of your face, matty's heartbeat increases as he takes in your amused smile and your even-more-sparkly-than-earlier eyes. you're beautiful. you're fucking glowing. and you're tucking yourself under his arm and cosying into his side as you walk. jesus christ. "this is a lot better for us, don't you think?"

matty's cheeks lift into a smile. "definitely."

it really is better, matty thinks, walking towards the front door of your halls with you snuggled into his chest. much like every other aspect of matty's life, you fit seamlessly into his side - you just feel so right there, so natural, as if the two of you were biologically designed to be together. maybe someday, he hopes, you will be; not two best friends traipsing into uni accommodation for a post-night out sleepover, but a pair of lovers heading home after a date.

he doubts that'll actually happen, given that he'd have to go through the impossible task of telling you how he feels first, but still. it's a nice distant daydream, one he's still giddily thinking about when you unlock the front door and pull him through several more until you reach your bedroom.

you groan when you flick the light on and see the state of your bed, makeup palettes and hair products and failed outfit options strewn across it. matty immediately jumps into problem-solving mode; anything to stop you being unhappy, after all. "where do you want all this stuff, darlin'?"

"the fucking floor," you grumble.

"so… where i'm meant to sleep?"

your head snaps up, and you catch matty's eye in the mirror as you take your earrings out. "well," you turn to face him, your expression… nervous? "you could just, y'know, share the bed with me."

oh. matty can feel his heart pounding in his ears, diminishing the volume of your continuing (and frantic) monologue: "i mean, i know it'll be tight cos it's a single, and you've always insisted on sleeping on the floor even when i've offered to let you have the bed, but it's really cold tonight and i wouldn't mind the extra heat, and at least if we're sharing i know you won't be freezing and you'll be comfy, yeah?"

"ok," matty says, despite barely registering anything you said in his fugue state. he's drunk, and lovesick, but he's not an idiot. "yeah. we'll share."

your face breaks into a relieved smile. "ok. good. um, before that, would you…?"

"oh, of course," matty darts over to you as quickly as he can, while you turn to face the mirror again and lift your hair up. slowly, with fingers fumbling just as much from nerves as from alcohol consumption, he undoes the zip on the back of your dress. the perfume still lingering on the back of your neck clouds his brain with every breath he takes, and the organ threatens to completely shut down when matty pulls the zip down low enough to reveal a lack of bra clasps underneath your outfit. once he's finished undoing you, he steps back while he still has the ability to do so, turning away from you. "there you go."

"thank you," comes the reply from behind him, followed by the sounds of fabric rustling and drawers opening. matty busies himself with carefully clearing your bed, only turning back round when you tap his arm; he smiles when he sees you in a big t-shirt, hair shoved up messily and makeup half-removed, holding out a pair of sweatpants he recognises as his. "you left these here last time. i thought you might want them to sleep in. and i did wash them, before you ask."

you roll your eyes as matty presses the trousers to his nose anyway as a joke - when he registers that his clothes now smell like you and your washing powder, however, it stops being funny in favour of being lovelorn-inducing. but his smile quickly returns when he properly notices the design on the t-shirt you're wearing. "i cannot believe you're wearing a drive like i do shirt to bed. thought you were more proud of me, to be honest, darlin'."

"of course i am, but it's comfy," you protest, brow furrowing in the most adorable way as you frown. it softens wistfully as you continue. "and it reminds me of home."

weird, matty thinks. you're not from- oh. christ.

he's home, to you. 

what a fucking thought that is. matty's not quite sure how he's managing to stay sane, but he smiles, pulling you into a tight hug and stroking your back. "that's very lovely of you, sweetheart."

"s'just the truth," you reach up on tiptoe to pat matty on the head, before pulling away. he misses you immediately. "you wanna get ready for bed?"

does he ever. 

matty nods, kicking his shoes off and quickly undressing while you climb into bed. despite the fact you've seen him in shorts and nothing else before, he wonders if he should feel self-conscious as he strips to his underwear in front of you; something's definitely different with the two of you tonight, matty's sure of it, and he can't quite tell if that's a good or bad thing. probably good, although that might be wishful thinking on his part, just like the way he's convinced your eyes linger on his torso with interest in the mirror when he takes his shirt off.

anyway. clad in his sweatpants and no more, matty climbs into your single bed. he tries to get as comfy as he can, facing away from and without touching you - whether that's to ensure your space and comfort or to stop himself from agonising over how much he likes you, matty has no idea. he isn't comfortable in the slightest, but he'll endure it.

you, on the other hand, have other ideas. with a sigh of "daft boy", you move forward so your body is against matty's back, slinging an arm and leg over his front and spooning him. "is this alright? i figured it was the best way to keep us warm."

"it's perfect, sweetheart," matty replies, and he isn't lying. despite how much it hurts being so close to you and repressing how he really feels about you, matty's surprisingly chill about the way you're clinging to him. cautiously, but feeling compelled to do so, he brings his hand up to stroke your thigh; when you hum contentedly, matty rests it there. "goodnight."

"mmm, night," you yawn out, the blanket of sleep falling on you fast. "love you."

matty smiles, half sadly, half dreamily. "love you too, darlin'."

the next day, he writes a new song.

[folkvangr-seidr]

Runaway

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Summary: you end up in a city you hate but maybe the company makes it worth the while.

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: none?

a/n: this is my first time writting for Jenna and english is not my first language so keep that in mind <3

It was 4am and you were stranded at the airport. your flight was delayed due to a raging storm and you decided to stay the night instead of booking a room. you were used to airports by now anyway.

Your job required you to travel a lot. You were a firefighter and you also worked as a volunteer with the IFRA (International Fire and Rescue Association) so yes, you spent a lot of time wandering around airports.

You were training some mexican units and the weather was horribly hot, so as soon as the job was finished you found yourself desperate to find a way back home. You knew there would be no direct flights from Mexico to Iceland in fucking November so you settled for a connecting flight via New York.

That's how you ended up slouched over a small table questioning every decision you ever made.

You knew the weather in Iceland, you weren't born there but it was the place you proudly called home. So you knew this storm could either be over in a few hours or block all the flights for at least a week. You didn't like that thought though.

You looked around and saw a large group of people walking towards some free seats near you so you made the smart decision of getting up and gathering your small suitcase and the book you were reading. You were not in the mood for chatting with strangers and you felt the need to move your legs anyway so you plugged your headphones in and started walking with no direction in mind. You found a much quieter and less crowded corner and you unconsciously sped up in hopes to get there before someone could spot the couple of empty chairs under some burnt lights. You were lost in your thoughts and inmersed in the music until someone bumped into your side, throwing you off balance and making you drop your book. You turned around to see a small figure crouching over and picking up your book.

"I'm sorry" it was a beautiful voice.

She looked at you and smiled and you just froze.

"Sylvia Plath, huh?" she smiled and your eyes became fixated in the small dimples on her cheeks.

You just nodded, somehow keeping a sense of calmness in your words when you spoke.

"Would say it's my toxic trait but I like to think it's more like my biggest flex."

She laughed and you found yourself unable to look away from her.

"I'm Jenna" she simply said, extending her hand.

"I know" you answered meeting her hand in a soft handshake. "I'm Y/N."

She just smiled, not breaking eye contact.

"It's a beautiful name" she said, disentangling your hands. "Now, Y/N, please tell me we can share that secluded corner for awhile?" she sounded a little desperate despite the playful tone and the lingering smile.

You motioned for her to go ahead and she took a couple steps forward before looking back at you.

"You coming?" her smile made you feel warm inside.

You followed her and sat in one of the chairs, ready to pull your phone out and go back to your playlist.

"There you go" Jenna said handing you the book. "Did you get here too soon too?"

You frowned at her shaking your head.

"My flight was delayed" you answered. "When's yours supposed to take off?"

"In a couple of hours" she said tiredly.

You couldn't help but laugh, earning a fierce glare from Jenna. "She looks cute" you thought.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" you said, still laughing a little.

"No, you're not" she retorted with a smile. "So… Where are you flying, Y/N?" She asked curious.

"Iceland" you said with a happy sigh. " But seems like the weather doesn't like my plans."

"Sure" she snorted. "Iceland seems like an amazing destination, though. Business or pleasure?"

"Neither" you said "well, for pleasure I guess."

She looked at you with a weird look, like she was trying to decipher some kind of mystery.

You cleared your throat and tried to explain.

"I live there. Well, at least when I'm not working or on a mission. I usually go visit whenever I have a few days off."

"A mission?" she said, as if it was the only thing she heard.

"Yeah, well" you touched the back of your neck, unsure. "I'm a firefighter so sometimes we volunteer to go on training or rescue missions."

"Really?" she said, her eyes shinning with a strange glimmer in them.

You nodded, not knowing what to say.

"And you live in Iceland? Whoah" she gestured with her hands while mouting the word "mindblowing".

You had to laugh at that.

"Yeah, but I spend most of the year working on England or traveling, you know" you explained.

She nodded at that.

"Seems like your full of surprises, Y/N" she smiled at you.

You checked the time on your phone only to be met with a notification saying "CANCELLED FLIGHT 18-705".

"Fuck" you cursed under your breath. "They cancelled my flight."

Jenna looked at you serious but didn't say anything until she saw you getting up from the chair.

"Where are you going?" she asked scrunching her face.

"It's almost 6am, I'm getting you to your boarding gate and then I'm calling a friend to see if I can crash at her place" you explained with a smile.

Without saying anything she got up aswell and checked her phone for the info she needed then she started walking toward the gate without much thought.

Until some guy grabbed her arm and started screaming about how he got so lucky to run into THE Jenna Ortega. Her face was showing clear signs of discomfort and… pain? Was the guy hurting her? You inmediately stepped toward them and took his wrist in your hand and with just enough force you made him let go of her.

He wasn't happy, the looks he was giving you made it clear but he wouldn't try anything by the slight fear in his eyes.

"Maybe you should try asking first next time" you said coldly before leading Jenna away from him.

She was quiet and wouldn't look at you and you wondered if she was maybe angry because of what you did?

"I'm sorry, I was out of place but he seemed like a bit too much" you started, smiling tentatively. "I'm really so…"

"Don't be" she cut you off, still not looking at you. "He took me by surprise" she admitted. "Thank you" she continued lifting her face to look at you with some sense of… fondness?

She seemed genuinely grateful and you couldn't shake the feeling that accompained the thought of this kind of situation happening to her everyday.

"It was nothing" you said shrugging it off.

You continued walking toward her boarding gate in a comfortable silence.

"This is me" she said with a nervous smile.

"Be safe" you said. "Have a nice flight, Jenna."

You turned to leave but her voice made you stop.

"Wait" you turned again, now facing her. "Thank you, Y/N."

You smiled at her starting to walk backwards as people you assumed wanted to board the very same plane started filling the space and when you could no longer see her you turned fully determined to find the exit and then call Gio to ask for a ride and a couch to crash on.

Meanwhile, Jenna got seated on the plane when a thought came into her mind.

She forgot to ask for your phone number!!

[n3ptoonz]

hellooo it's okay if you choose not to write this!! but like im going thru it rn & was thinking how would the mk men be with someone who thrives off of being validated? i'm thinking raiden, kung lao, smoke, but anyone else you want too! kinda like some fluffy pick me up content :(

ofc i can do this, seems easy enough and i hope you're doing alright anon <3 if not at the moment, this feeling won't last forever!

mk1 hcs: how raiden, kung lao, smoke, and rain give praise/validation to their s/o

no warnings just fluff, more bullet points than usual since i'm doing four characters (and writing for them har har har) i use praise and validation interchangeably here if that's okay

hope this is good!

Raiden

raiden is almost always giving you praise and validation for just about anything

your skill, how well you cook, if you don't cook how well you help him out, to even how well your cleaning is

a swift "wow, you're amazing" "do i tell you i love you enough?" "how did you do that? impressive!" are in order whenever he deems fit (literally all the time)

don't let him find out you're down about something, because you're not leaving this house until he sees that smile

he holds you close more often and whispers cute things to you. some jokes, some things are more personal/targeted comments of validation

"you do know that i love you, right?" "you're the best thing to happen to me." "whatever has you down, we're in this together."

don't be surprised when you wake up one day and there's baskets full of freshly picked fruit on the dining table too. he hates to see you frown, so he does everything in his power to hear your laughter again

Kung Lao

as much as he loves receiving validation and being told he's the best at any given moment, he loves giving it too

for him it's usually on occasions where he really means every single word he's saying. like if you were to finally get a move you've been trying for like a week, he's your number one cheerleader

"i saw that out there, you're doing so well!" "shit, where'd you learn that from?! teach me!" "i am so proud of you"

if you're down, he's dropping everything to be by your side, if he can. whatever plagues your mind is an enemy of his now

he holds your hand(s) and is surprisingly very patient with you. well, is it really surprising when he professes his love for you every chance he gets?

"i'm here for you, love" "whenever you're ready, i'm always listening" "do i need to beat anybody's ass? just say the word."

he would also bring fruit (yes, he stole raiden's idea) and offer to train with you more for comfort or to tease you to take your mind off things (code word for endless flirting)

Smoke

when it comes to tomas, contrary to the popular belief of him being a smug thug that beats up old ladies, he's from shy boy city. population: him

on both ends he doesn't know how to react/isn't that good at giving praise. he'll either stumble over his words or do something else to show you he cares. it's really only when it comes to you cause he has to be confident around everybody else

he'll give an enthusiastic thumbs up from across the room, walk past you and whisper "great job!", or wait until it's just you two in the room so he can pepper your face with kisses (i need him so bad)

but hold up...you're feeling down? nah, that simply won't do. his shyness is gone and he's a little too ready to bring someone's head as a treasure if someone hurt you

"are you alright? i've got your back." "i would do anything for you" "i love you so much, don't forget that."

he would try his best efforts to spend more time with you and do more things around the house. hell, if he really had it his way you would never lift a finger ever again

Rain

rain is a man of few words. the way he operates is he doesn't really feel the need to keep saying the same thing over and over again, but that changed with you

now it wasn't a huge change, but he definitely had no opposition to letting you know when he noticed you, and he knows you'd do the same if not more

"i like what you did there, keep it up" "how did i get so lucky?" "you make me great at what i do"

he finds out you don't feel too hot? prepare to know what royalty feels like, because that's how he's going to treat you. technically you have a walking water-cooler at all times, so now you're definitely never doing anything yourself again

"i've got it taken care of, don't you worry about a thing" "your wish is my command." "if someone did something to you, they will regret it. i promise."

behind that calm and cool demeanor he was lowkey freaking out because he doesn't like seeing you down. he'd offer to make all types of natural medicines or potions, and when you tell him you just need him around, he's fine with putting work off until you feel better

a/n: i found out a few weeks ago charles from rdr and rain mk1 share the same va. i KNEW he sounded familiar mm mm mm

[queers-gambit]

When Pride Married Prejudice part two

[ part one ]

[ series masterlist ]

prompt: moments at the beginning of your marriage.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 8.6k+

warnings: cursing, nothing but filler and fluff, marriage smut, stop giving author internet access cause literally what is this ? not edited.

Your wedding was something small by other royal comparison, but neither you nor Aemond seemed to mind; he was the one who wanted it much smaller, but the King was feeling festive. So, the whole of the court was invited - minus your family, which felt glaringly obvious.

You married in the Sept and hosted a banquet in the Red Keep's Great Hall. The King hummed along with the music, tapping his fingers in rhythm, before exhaustion set in and he was being escorted back to his rooms. The Queen departed soon after, and your new husband lead you away rapidly right after that. Behind you, there were a few inappropriate comments hurled your way; but Aemond was quick to shield you from them.

He moved his body as if to physically protect you from their vile words, an arm protectively around your waist to guide you forward; your first sign of his deep-running loyalty.

When you got to your new shared chambers, you found the room in disarray - gasping your shock and wondering if someone had ransacked his room. "Were you robbed?" You had asked.

"No," his cheeks flared, "I was trying to move things around, make room for you, but I realized I did not know what you would arrive with, so, it has come to... This..."

"So, what I'm hearing is that your room needs organized, huh?"

He smirked at you, "I'll order us some wine, but yes, if you'd like," he gestured you forward.

That perhaps was your second sign of his unwavering support of you.

The third was when, during your room-rearrangements, he promised to not share your bed, "unless you ask me to."

His hands also idly toyed with your own, the two of you facing one another; his fingertips tracing down the scar on the palm of your hand. He was quiet as he did, but you weren't bothered - he was usually always quiet.

Anyways, your marriage wasn't consummated that night, but you got to know Aemond on a much deeper level after proposing a drinking game where you each told three statements - two that were truthful, and one that was a lie. It made you both snicker gently and lounge on the bed together after the room was put in relative order.

He did not share your bed, as promised, for a full week after your wedding; but he spent time with you after his training sessions in the courtyard. Apparently, his mother thought it important you and he bond, so, Aemond was excused from afternoon lessons in favor of spending time with you. You both liked to stroll through the gardens, sometimes with a book shared between you both; other times, with an escort through the city streets.

But only eight days after your wedding, there was a rapid knock at your chamber door, and just as you rose from your vanity to answer it, your husband was entering. He swung around to shut the door and lean on it for a moment, making you smirk. "Well, hello there. Nice fo you to pop in, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry for the intrusion, my Lady," he sighed, shaking his head, "but Aegon was being his usual self and I needed to get away - then apparently he followed me and I didn't need him seeing me waiting..."

You nodded, "You know, you're allowed to stay here, too. I would not put you out."

"I do not wish to crowd you."

Your shoulders shrugged, "I think I'd like it, actually."

"Oh?" He breathed.

"Sure," You nodded in agreement. "I mean, we should get used to one another, should we not? I do not wish to put you out."

"Lady - "

"Please, stay?" You pouted dramatically. "C'mon, maybe I'll let you do my hair, huh?"

He chuckled and pushed off the door, glancing at the hand you outstretched. Aemond slowly reached for it, taking a moment to breathe before speaking softly, "I did not mean to interrupt you."

"You're not," You assured softly. "I was getting ready for bed, but between you and me, I'm kinda into this book right now."

"So, you're not tired?" He smirked slowly.

"I'm almost afraid to answer that," you eyed him up and down. "Why?"

"Perhaps you'd like to get dressed? We can sneak out," he sighed some. "Think I could use some air, thought perhaps a walk around the city would do us both some good?"

Your grin slowly stretched as you considered his offer. "All right, yeah. But we go in disguise."

"You think we'd walk around, bare?"

You shrugged and moved for the wardrobe. "I only mean to show you some places and it wouldn't be exactly proper if word reached the palace of our misdoings."

"I thought I was sneaking you out?"

"You are," You assured with a grin, "but perhaps I'll show you a thing or two while we're out."

"All right," he sighed, nodding softly and wiping his palms on his pants nervously. "Whatever gets us out of here."

"What did your brother say that upset you?" You asked, eyeing him slightly before moving for the changing screen. "C'moooon, I know you wanna tell me. I can see it on the tip of your tongue."

He chuckled some, "He's just tiresome."

"Noooo, really?" You mocked gently as you changed from your nightdress into something plain.

"We were at dinner..."

"Mhm."

"And he had choice comments about something that doesn't pertain to him in the slightest."

"Might I ask what that was, husband?"

There was silence as you laced the trousers on. "Our marriage," Aemond finally admitted.

"Hmm," you considered, situating the tunic. "And what was said? What were these choice comments?"

Aemond sighed heatedly, "Something - I don't even know. It was about how you won't let me near you, how this marriage is like all others and it's a farce, telling me to get used to you being absent - and that my one obligation is to put a babe in your belly, but it was the way in which he spoke that drove me up the fucking wall."

"Mhm."

"As if he even gets an opinion on this..." Aemond ranted as you stepped out from the screen, moving for the vanity again to wrap your hair up in a tangle of scarves. "As if his own marriage isn't some sham!"

"Is it?" You wondered gently.

"They were betrothed as children, Helaena's never known different but Aegon does as he pleases - no matter his marital status."

"So, your older brother doesn't respect you," you sighed gently, still fixing your hair to hide it. "But you know what's different now?"

"Hmm?"

"You've a wife who does," you turned to smirk at him, hands dropping to slap your thighs gently, "and Aegon can be jealous all he wants. It's not gonna be a concern of ours, we don't live the same truths."

He paused for a moment, nodding, "You're right..."

"But when you're feeling stressed," you offered your hand again with a grin, "your wife is here to sneak out with you for a bit of fun."

He chuckled and took your hand with his, "We'll need to stop at my room."

"Kinda hate that, but okay," you mused gently, letting him lead you from what was supposed to be your shared quarters. However, just as you were about to pass into his room, Amira rounded the distant corner, and your husband called for her.

"Could I ask for a discreet favor?" He asked, opening his door to lead you both inside.

"What is it, my Prince?" Amira asked, looking you up and down. "Oh, no, you're sneaking out, aren't you?"

You only shrugged with a broad smirk, making her sigh as your husband found his cloak. "Might you bring my things to our room?" He asked your hand maiden.

"Oh," she blinked, nodding, "yes, of course, my Prince. Um...?"

You smirked at her, "I didn't realize the lengths my husband went to to ensure my comfort, so, I've invited him back to our rooms."

"Oh, that is good to hear," she breathed, patting your shoulder. "All right, yes, I'll move your things, my Prince. Might I ask the reason for discretion?"

"Aegon's a dick," you shrugged, making Aemond say your name in reprimand. "What? Am I wrong?"

"Well, no - "

"So, that's the reason," you told Mira, "and we'd appreciate Aegon, you know, not knowing about this, so discretion is paramount."

"I gotcha," she winked, nodding with assurance. "I got this... Yeah, I got this... This is nothing..."

"Mira?"

"Hmm?"

"You got this?" You checked, Aemond tucking his hair beneath his hood.

"Oh, yeah, for sure," she sighed, waving you off. "Just be careful tonight, please. The city's changed, Princess, lots of crime has gone up in rate. Stay close to your Lord husband."

You chuckled, "Maybe I'll save his arse, you never know."

"You'll probably start a fight and he'll have to rescue you," she laughed you off. Aemond offered his hand silently, leading you to a hidden passage at the back of the room.

It was easy enough to sneak through the back passages of the Red Keep, and you quickly realized that this must've been common enough for Aemond - given how well he knew his way around. When you broke free of the Keep, you breathed deeply.

"All right?" Aemond checked, tightening his hand in yours.

"Mhm," you assured, needing to jog slightly to keep up with his long legs and quick pace. "Where to first, Princey?"

He chuckled dryly, leading you down around a few turns. "Perhaps a drink?"

"Hmm," you considered, peaking around alleyways.

"No?"

"I didn't say that," you chuckled. "But could we go this way?" You pointed.

"Why?"

"There's a few fun vendors this way," you smirked, leading him away. For the remainder of the night, you and Aemond crept around King's Landing - hopping around taverns, and you're pretty sure you didn't stop smiling once since leaving the Keep.

Aemond seemed different, too.

He was quiet, still. But he was relaxed, kept a hand on you at nearly all times. He chuckled when something was funny, smirked when someone made a fool of themselves, but mostly, he sat beside you all night. His legs straddled the benches to keep you close to his body, and you'd feel his idle touch as time passed.

Touches to your hand, waist, ribs, back, shoulders, and once even, he smoothed his hand over the back of your head in an affectionate gesture when you had made a particularly funny joke.

It was as if your warm touch reassured him.

So you did not mind, and in fact, found you reveled in it. It was your first real indication that his love language was primarily physical touch and while words did not come easy, his touch lingered.

And when you snuck back into the Keep, the ale you both consumed made your steps clumsy and for you both to snicker as you tried to shush each other. When you fell into your room together, you noticed Amira had, indeed, packed the Prince's things and moved them into your rooms.

It became a comfort that for each night the following five days, Aemond would read aloud from your book as you organized his belongings and clothes around the room. He liked pausing to consider the passage read, making the both of you bicker gently - even if he didn't have a varying opinion, he liked pushing you to see how far you'd go to make a point. You caught onto his game and didn't find it as annoying as when Jace or Luke did it.

Then came your first 'family' dinner that you'd attend at Aemond's side. He paced nervously by the window, watching the sun sink, and you perused your wardrobes for something to change into.

"You're nervous," you mentioned softly, laying a gown out to the bed.

"A bit," Aemond agreed.

"Is there reason, husband?"

He sighed, turning from the window with hands behind his back. "Father's not doing well..."

You nodded slowly, "He's been on a decline for quite some time now."

"And now it's enough for Mother to call for weekly family meals," he sighed, wiping a hand down his mouth.

"'S all right," you assured, "might be kinda nice."

"Nothing's really nice with Aegon around," he frowned, shaking his head to send some strands of gloriously long hair around his shoulders.

"Still mad about what he said?"

Aemond sighed, shrugging some. "In truth, I am unsure what I feel."

You nodded slowly, "That's alright. Family's a confusing matter."

"It is," he eyed what you had laid out for him.

"Yet, I must ask for your forgiveness," you smiled at him, stepping closer as he slowly turned to lower himself onto the bed. He reached for you, taking your hands to pull you between his wide-set legs.

"For what, my wife? I have not been wronged," he sighed, fiddling with your fingers.

"I have let you endure this alone the past two weeks," you spoke gently, slowly raising your hands to pet over his silver locks. "That's not what a wife does, hmm?"

He let his own hands raise to gently wrap around either of your wrists. His eye examined the one as his fingers caressed your skin, leaning in to gently press a kiss to the appendage. "It is of no trouble," he told you, "because you're here now, yes?"

You smiled at him, "Yes, I am here now. The support of a wife, something your brother does not know - should you need to use that to your defense."

He chuckled and tugged you so your hands went to his neck and his own settled heavily on your waist. "Something tells me with you there, wife, I will have little reason to defend myself."

You chuckled at him, giving his cheeks a quick squeeze, "Yes, yes, you get a wife and personal attack dog - aren't you lucky?"

"Terribly," he smirked, leaning forward slightly to rest his forehead against your stomach. He groaned, "Must we go?"

You chuckled and let your arms wrap around him in a hug, folding slightly to peck the top of his head. "Yes, we must. C'mon, it will not be for long."

He sighed, "Might I use you as an excuse?"

"Depends on the excuse used," you teased gently.

"Hm... What if I cited newlywed duties?" He picked himself up to stare up at you with a growing smirk.

"I think I'd kill over from embarrassment," you gasped, nudging his shoulder; making him grin at you. You found, each day, he loosened up - but always tensed up when others were around. When it was just you two, my Gods, he was entirely different; making you feel grateful that you could see him as such.

He sighed and let his hands settle back on your waist, "All right, maybe not. But, perhaps, I could say it to Aegon? Yes?"

You chuckled, hands caressing his jaw to force his eye to your own. "All right, yes, but do not let your Mother hear - please. Or Father. He's still my Grandsire and while I know he knows what happens in a marriage, he does not need be reminded."

"All right, deal," he agreed, sighing again.

"It will not be so bad, come now, we should change," you chuckled, gently pulling away from him. His hands fell from your body, and you instantly missed the warmth.

Though, after changing behind the screen, his hand was back in yours to lead you from the room. You swung your conjoined hands gently, smiling at him when he offered you a curious look. He ended up cracking a smile, unable to help it, but quickly sobered up when you arrived at the private dining room.

It was mostly just an outside terrace with a long table, but it made do for tonight's gathering. And with the fortunate weather, you were almost excited for the meal, if only for the location.

Aemond lead you both in stoically, and surprisingly, you were the last to arrived. Even Viserys beamed, teasing, "Well, this is a surprise."

"Apologies, Your Grace," you offered instantly. "We did not realize the time."

"No, no, no need, I was once newly married," he chuckled, waving you offer as both you and Aemond froze momentarily. You were quick to laugh at the King's joke, and with your hand to Aemond's arm, discreetly directed him towards the only two chairs left at the head of the table. Apparently, it became Aemond's common seating arrangement after the loss of his eye, but you didn't mind much.

Otto was in attendance, and Heleana greeted you happily; all but jumping from her seat when you neared her. You kissed her cheek in greeting, giving her a loving squeeze.

Aegon looked mildly annoyed but hid it behind his cups of wine, slouched in his seat; and making you ponder what seed he came from, since surely, it was not Royalty.

"Here," Aemond muttered to you, dishing something onto your plate. "You've gotta try this."

"It looks strange."

"Just a taste," he nodded, smirking at you. You sighed, eyeing the food with disinterest. "Come now, you mean to say you do not trust me?"

"Well, that's a loaded question."

He chuckled, "Let this be a test, then. Go on, just a taste. For me?"

"Well, way to guilt me," you teased him, nudging his arm before taking a taste from your fork. You pondered the feeling on your tongue, manicured hand over your lips as you chewed and considered the flavors. "It is... Strange."

"Is it?" Aemond smirked.

"I do not think I dislike it," you nodded at him, "though, I am unsure if I like it, either. Hang on," you moved for another bite, and before long, you'd finished the bit he'd spooned to your plate. "What was that?"

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly, "You told me on our wedding night you fancied those mangoes from Pentos, did you not?"

"I did," you nodded, narrowing your eyes at him at you glanced at the dish. "Do not tell me..."

"Apparently, stewed mangoes is popular over there," he shrugged a bit, glancing up to his family to ensure they were all still in their own conversation. They were.

"Would you do me a favor then?"

"Hmm?"

"Bit more?" You smirked, nudging your plate once. He chuckled and reached for the dish, dolloping another spoonful before you scooped a bit of rice to your plate and mixed them together.

"How's that?" He wondered in genuine curiosity when you tasted the new dish.

"You know what?" He nodded at you. "I don't hate it. Here, try it."

He nodded slowly and took up his own fork to try a bit, making your head cock in wonder as you waited for his opinion. "'S not terrible," he agreed with you, chuckling dryly before reaching for his goblet.

"So," Viserys boomed down the table, making you jump slightly. "How is married life treating you both?"

You smiled at the King, "You've raised your son well, Your Grace." Your eyes cut to Alicent, knowing she was who truly raised the children. "Married life is... Going well," you glanced at Aemond.

"Like a built-in companion," he mused to the table, taking a sip as Viserys chuckled.

"It is good to know you are getting along," he granted. "Surely, we'll see your face more often, Princess?"

"Of course, Your Grace," you agreed.

"Good," he nodded, smiling lightly.

"Unless my brother actually manages to get it up," Aegon snickered into his, oh, maybe, third cup in an hour? "Then, we'll never see you, will we, sister?"

"I'd mind my tongue, Aegon," you mused, taking another small bite of your meal. "Might start to sound jealous. Though, we know your brother has the injury and one less eye, you've always been jealous of him, heaven't you?"

"Aegon," Alicent warned when his face heated in anger.

Aemond chuckled a bit and let his hand drift to hang off the arm rest. You silently reached for his hand, finding relief when it fell naturally to your lap - turning over for you to hold. The other hand rose his goblet again.

"Do you think you'd like to take lunch sometime this week?" Heleana asked you, leaning over. "I've some questions of my own," her voice lowered to explain.

"Sure," you agreed easily, nodding at her with a smile.

Aegon rolled his eyes, "Oh, what questions could she answer? She's been married all of two weeks."

"I wouldn't take that tone, brother," Aemond warned.

"Boys," their Mother snapped. "Not now."

"Not ever, hopefully," You offered a sweet smile with your words.

"I'm not quite sure how it was done in your Strong Family," Aegon sneered, sitting up in his chair, "but here, we - "

"If your only means is to insult a silly rumor pertaining to my family, then, I'm afraid you might want to silence yourself," you chuckled, staring your uncle down with anger burning your gut. "You are only making my point for me."

"Please," Alicent asked of the whole table, "can we not get along for a single meal?"

Your hand tightened in Aemond's, asking him, "Surely, this is not common?"

"What, sweetheart?"

You paused at the use of the nickname, finding you enjoyed it more than you should - before finding your voice again, "Your brother thinking it is appropriate to speak in such a manner?"

He smirked at your tactic to publicly embarrass his brother, nodding at you, "You will grow used to it, sweetheart, I promise."

"Hmm," you mused, leaning into his arm more as his hand released yours in favor of holding your inner thigh instead.

"So," Otto cleared his throat, "how're you finding the city, Princess?"

"Very well, yes, thank you," you assured with a nod of your head. "Aemond and I might've gone out almost everyday this past week."

"The weather held," he shrugged a bit, cheeks heating at the knowledge that his family knew he was soft on you. It was obvious, if the time together was any indication.

"It was nice," you assured, one hand holding his forearm and giving a squeeze. "I'll have to take you sailing some time."

"You know how?" Otto asked in surprise.

"Yes, my father and his father took me out," you smiled softly. "Taught me how to fish, too, if you'd believe it. Never thought I'd live long enough to watch Corlys Velaryon fish for his own meal. But I must admit, it was incredibly satisfying. Father and I caught this sort of tuna," you told Otto - who was staring at you with the slightest amount of pity, "it must've weighed some 80 pounds." You chuckled at the memory, sniffling lightly, "Father and I nearly fell in trying to wrangle that bad boy from the waters."

It was quiet for a moment before Aemond cleared his throat, lowering his voice, "We did not yet find the time to extend our condolences for your father, my wife. And how sorry we all are for your loss."

"Mother got your letter," you nodded softly. "But thank you for verbalizing it."

With a returning nod, your husband tried to focus on his meal; but before you could, his sister was starting a new conversation. He was quiet most of the remaining meal, just content to listen; and any time Aegon got lippy, even Alicent started to sit back - because your wit outmatched all of their own. You easily fended the boy off.

Heleana simply adored you, and let that be known.

Viserys was oozing pride, as if taking personal responsibility in the match made between you.

Alicent smiled and actually asked a few questions to better know you.

Otto was just as ever - kindly, old, and soft spoken. He also knew some really good riddles that you liked to try and work out - his grandchildren giving up on most of them. Imagine your surprise when you asked, "Is it a mountain?"

And Otto beamed, "Yes! Dear girl, yes! I've been telling that riddle for months and none has solved it!"

It was an overall nice dinner, but truly, by the end, you were exhausted from keeping appearances. There were a few times you wanted to snap at your brother-by-law, but held your tongue; doing little to hide the irritation in your tone when you shut him down.

When Viserys was taken away for bed, Otto escorted Alicent away, and to your surprise, Aemond ushered you to your feet, "C'mon, come with me."

You let him pull you by your hand, jogging again to keep up with his long strides. When you were out of the dining room, you looked around and wondered, "Why're we in a rush to get to bed?"

He chuckled, shaking his head, "Got something on my mind."

"Wanna share?"

"In our rooms," he nodded, glancing at you only as he kept his quick pace - ignoring your whine of annoyance. The moment the doors opened, he pulled you in and shut them after you - pushing your body against the wood as his nose pressed into your neck.

"Aemond," you gasped in shock, holding onto his shoulders; not pushing him away.

"I-I wanted to let you come to me," he rushed, hands bruising your hips. "Yet I do not think I can wait longer."

"What changed?" You smirked, petting over his cheeks as he nuzzled your neck. You wanted to feel his mouth, but he did not dare yet - showing an ounce of restraint.

"Dinner," he sighed, sounding as if he was straining. "Watching you with them all, Gods... I know I am not who you wanted, but I think I need to start giving thanks for having a wife who can keep up."

"That got you going, did it?" You smirked against the shell of his ear; hands petting down his neck. His hands tightened and your hips rose up the wall to let his growing bulge press into you. Your breathing stuttered as his head lifted to leer over yours, your fingertip ghosting over his bottom lip.

"In truth, it's been hard to give you space," he breathed, "but yes, my wife, seeing you with my family was enough for me. You showed no fear in talking to the King and Queen..."

"Hmm?"

His lips pulled in a smirk, hands moving up to hold the base of your ribs. "It was impressive," he whispered, "and listening to you put Aegon in his place? Lady wife," he chuckled, slowly letting a leg raise to press between your thighs, "that did something to me I cannot explain nor control."

"Power turns you on, does it?" You chuckled.

"Only a bit," he nodded, "now," his thigh pressed more securely, "might I kiss you, Lady wife? Or might you haunt me further?"

You chuckled, but he clocked your nod before surging forward to connect your lips in a searing kiss. You let out a shrill whine when his hands drove you down onto him, his bulge more prominent.

"Aemond."

"Tell me, sweet girl," he spoke in your ear, letting his tongue flatten against skin that made you moan, "what it is you want."

But worry knotted your stomach.

"Wait, wait," you pulled back as much as you could, but pushed his shoulders some; making him pull away.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just," you sighed, head thumping back to the door in exasperation. You sighed through your nose.

"You can tell me," he nodded, lowering his leg to give you room to breath. His thumbs started to swirl comforting circles around your hip bones. "You want me to trust you, but it goes both ways, pretty girl. Speak your mind."

"Well, for one, in truth, I think I prefer being called pet names rather than the name my mother gave me," you chuckled some, hands drifting down his chest.

"Noted," he nodded, leaning in to rest his forehead on your own. "Come - tell me what bothers you."

"I've not done this," you whispered. "I worry it will not be satisfying."

"With the way I've been ramped up the past two weeks, there is little you can do to dissatisfy me," he chuckled. "Though, might I tell you a secret?"

"Mhm."

"Think you got me started the day you saved my life," he whispered, "and I never even thanked you for it."

"We share blood, Aemond, I would not have walked away. You needed help, and I knew how to give it."

"Thank you," he nodded, sighing. "I never got to thank you for what you did, but I am grateful."

"'Twas a dramatic night, there was little room for anything else."

He hummed before telling you, "Look, you do not need to worry, this is another learning experience for us to endure together."

"Oh, you must 'endure' laying with me?" You whined, heat flaring up your chest and neck.

"I did not mean that," he relented softly. "Only that I am no expert, either, but this is something between us - something we will learn to do together. As husband and wife."

You sighed, nodding, "Just be patient."

"I know it does not mean much now," he let his lips peck over yours, "but this is between us, sweet girl. You can do no wrong with me."

You sighed, "You say that, yet..."

"Yet?"

"I do not know of a single marriage where either, nor both, were ever happy. I fear that this could be a partnership, but not much else. I understand you've an obligation to sire children, but I am only nervous - "

"You do not need to be," he sighed softly. "It's just me."

You nodded, brows crinkling gently. "It's just you..."

"Your husband."

You nodded, "My blood."

"I am not here to wrong you, nor harm you," he promised. "And while I agree, I do not know of a marriage myself that has been... Happy... I do know that marriages are between spouses, and we get to not just make our own rules, but play by them, as well."

You sighed gently. "How you've been without a Lady all this time is beyond me. You might be the sweetest man I know, and my father was Laenor Velaryon."

He smirked against your lips, letting you gently pull his cheeks to kiss him to time. "None ever bothered to try and know me," he whispered. "You are different, pet, and you always have been."

"You are different with me," you noted, nose rubbing up his. "Why is that?"

He sighed, "You... Provide me with a sense of safety, I think. It is difficult to explain - "

"'S not," you smiled at him, "because I understand perfectly well. I fear I might feel much of the same, as well."

"Hmm," he considered, "that is good. I would hope my wife feels safe with me."

"I do," you nodded in assurance. "That if you'd like to move for the bed, I would not disagree..."

"Are you sure?" He asked, frowning.

"If you're willing to take this slow?"

He chuckled, "As slow as I can bare."

You laughed against his lips, leaning in to trap him in another kiss. "I have to admit..." You pulled back to peck his lips, "You're mildly addicting to kiss."

He grinned, licking over your lips slowly. "Might find more than my kisses addicting,"

"Oh?" You laughed, holding onto his neck tightly as his own arms snaked around your waist to hold you against him. He sighed, nuzzling into your neck as a hand pet down the back of your head before settling around you. "All right?" You whispered.

"Mhm," he hummed, "just appreciating the feel."

You smiled against his temple, laying a kiss there as the mood in the room shifted; and his hands bore the weight of the world. "Aemond?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you show me all of you?"

You felt him pause against you, but his sigh was sad, "Not tonight."

"But would you?"

He nodded as he pulled back; leaving your cheeks brushing against one another. "One day," he sighed, making your heart plummet in sadness. The abuse the boy endured was more than you were willing to admit, but you'd try to understand it best you could and offer him comfort. "For now, let me see you," he whispered in your ear, the fire crackling behind you both as the room flickered and glowed in the light. You did not protest when his hands rose to undo the laces at your back; pulling apart to loosen your gown.

You feared he would not like what he found, but your resolve was crumbling as his mouth opened against your neck. You moaned faintly as his hands easily yanked behind you, freeing more of your flesh for him to grab at.

He pulled back first but you could not meet his eye. His fingers tipped your chin up to let your eyes meet, breathing one breath as his lilac gaze raked you in.

"You're absolutely stunning," he whispered, holding your gaze, and making you feel like he was staring through you. But his eye did not drop from your own as his hands pulled at your dress, freeing your shoulders and upper body.

Your lungs shuddered in nerves as you helped pull the garment down, freeing your breasts, and then down to your hips. His hands moved, his eye did not; only bowing to his knees to hug your waist, looking to the floor, and pulling the clothing from your hips.

Your hands shot back to hold your position against the wall; keeping balance as Aemond freed your legs of shoes, stockings, then your hips of any under garment. But he kept his gaze on the ground as he rose, letting your hands mimic his from earlier, and tip his chin so his eyes met your own.

"See me," you requested in a breath; holding it then as his eye soaked in all you were.

"Gods," he breathed, taking half a step back to get the full image. When his eye met yours, it was almost as if he could not stop the words from flooding out, "You're breathtaking."

"We are married, you do not need to compliment me," you teased gently, leaning back to the wall. "Do you need a moment?"

"I might," he mused. "You're incredible... And you're truly mine?"

"That's what the law now says," you teased. "You know, standing here, naked, 's bit cold."

"You don't say?" He chuckled, reaching a hand out to sweep his thumb over your pebbled nipple. But that was it - that was all he did. "Come, lay on the bed, pet."

He turned from you to give you space, bare feet muted over the bare stone as you moved on the balls of your feet. Look - standing in the nude was one thing, but sitting in the nude? That was something entirely, and you reached for a pillow to hold against yourself the moment you reached the mattress - and climbed upon it.

Aemond turned from the window to look you over, then started to undo his jerkin. "You've never been with a man?"

"Never even kissed one till we got married," you admitted.

"So... You're all mine, is it?"

"Seems so," you chuckled. "Though, I am afraid to ask in return."

His head cocked, wincing, "Lost my virginity at ten and three."

"Truly? To whom?"

He freed his upper half of the leather jerkin, revealing a thin tunic. "A whore, no less."

You hummed in thought, watching him undress without abash. "That was it?"

"If you'd believe it," he pulled the tunic off his torso.

"And how is it you've come by scars when there is no war?" You asked, letting the pillow fall to the side in favor for drawing a single leg up and into your chest.

"Same way I came to lose an eye, pet," he sighed, now avoiding your gaze. "Though accidents - no matter how unfortunate."

Your heart weighed to your feet, slowly finding them as your fingers nervously twisted together. He was distracting himself with pouring a goblet of wine, but stiffly turned when your hands deftly asked him to. They smoothed over rigid, pink-going-on-white scars, asking, "Where did this one come from?"

He glanced at your hand on his upper arm. "That was a lancing accident gone wrong."

"Hmm," you nodded. "And this?"

Your fingertips pressed to his pectoral. "Swordplay with Aegon... Gone wrong."

You smirked, "And this one?"

He breathed uneasily as your hand pushed at the scar on his lower belly. "Hmm... That was from a spoiled organ."

"Come again?"

He smirked as your hands rimmed the hem of his pants. "When I was, possibly, oh, maybe ten and five? There is a little organ that, if ruptured, can ooze toxic waste back into the body. Maesters were quick to remove it."

"How interesting," you spoke softly, watching his throat bob as he took a drink. "And this one?" Your lips asked, nearing his ear.

"Which?" But he flinched with a laugh when you bit his neck. It wasn't hard enough to break skin, but against his pale skin, it was enough to leave a small red mark. "Oh, you devil of a woman," he chuckled, letting an arm wrap around your bare waist.

"Apologies, dear husband," you smirked, reaching your arms around his neck to allow your breasts to press into his chest without barrier.

"Perhaps I can be persuaded into forgiving you," he hushed against your lips, licking over them before trapping you in a kiss so searing, it pulled a moan from your throat.

"Just ask it of me," you whispered to him, daringly letting your hands drift when he pulled you in for another kiss; fondling his growing length over his trousers.

He hissed lightly into your mouth, muttering, "Perhaps this will be new for us both, after all... Gods."

You smirked against his mouth, feeling emboldened to now sweep your tongue over his lips and into his mouth; hand solidifying around his neck to keep tight. He blindly set his wine to the table beside him to then press both hands into your warming flesh under your rib cage. His hands pushed, and you were lead back towards the bed; where you were sat on the edge for your husband to gaze down at. His hand cupped your jaw, gently caressing your cheek; yanking the laces of his trousers at the same time.

"Let me," you whispered, mostly curious - reaching for his breeches, and keeping eye contact as you unlaced him.

You fist the material by his hips and yanked down, still staring up at him - even when his cock sprang free to gently bob in your face.

"Fuck," he seethed, reaching to pull your hair back. "Might I teach you something first?" When you nodded, he almost grunted, "You can use your mouth."

Your brows furrowed, "On your cock?"

Aemond let himself chuckle, "Yes, sweet girl. But not your teeth..."

"I think I could've figured that one out, Aemond, Gods!" He laughed with you, but sharply inhaled when your hand reached for his thick member; giving a few curious strokes. "I can ask you something?"

"With my cock in your hand, you can ask me anything," he breathed in tune to your pumping hand, twisting wrist. "What is it, pretty girl?"

Your breath fanned across his public hair, head tilted to gaze up at him and wonder, "It... Will fit?"

He snickered, "Yes, sweet girl."

You nodded, "And are they all... This size... A-And girth?"

"Perhaps not, but I'm not running around, whipping my cock out to compare it to others,"

"Pity," you pouted at him, seeing his teeth flash in amusement, and lean in to take a tentative lick. His hand tightened in your hair and you understood what he meant; slowly, surely, and very sloppily, figuring it out. What your mouth didn't fit, your hand twisted around; and Aemond's knees were slowly buckling.

"Slowly, slowly," he whispered to you, thumb sweeping a tear from your cheek when you tried to take more of him. "That's my girl, good fucking girl," you preened at his praise. "Easy, don't over do it - that's it, good girl. Use you spit - fucking Gods, that's right - there - wait, wait, less teeth, sweet girl - slow yourself."

You listened to him as you went, feeling sweat start to slowly streak down your skin as heat sweltered in the room; skin at the base of his cock turning salty from his own exertion.

"All right," Aemond hissed, nodding to himself as he took hold of your cheeks and pulled his cock from your mouth; leaving a trail of saliva. "Seven fuckin' Hells, girl, I told you I'm not fucking anyone else, you're not in competition here."

You grinned up at him, rolling your eyes right after as you understood his teasing tone. "C'mere, please," you whispered up at him, hands curling around his neck to thread into his hair when he loomed over you. Your lips met in a frenzied mess again before one of his hands held his balance and the other pushed your knees apart.

"Easy," he whispered against you, tracing slow patterns up your inner thighs. "This is where trust comes in, sweet girl. I've got you."

"Yeah?" You nervously checked, nodding at him; hands holding onto him as if a lifeline.

He sighed softly, "I'll always have you, sweet girl. Today, and everyday."

You pet down his chest and tried to relax as his lips met yours again in a frantic mess of lips, tongues, and teeth. His fingers then were dusting up your crotch, and you all but flinched as a jolt of pleasuring electricity shot through your veins.

"Aemond," you breathed as one hand darted out to wrap around his bicep; fingers sweeping up and down your wetted heat. "Gods," you squeaked when he pushed to let his face rest against your neck; arms tight around his neck for anchoring, letting a finger sink deep into you. Your legs opened wider to accept him.

"Good girl," he growled, your hand feeling his arm flex as he started to pump his finger messily through your sopping folds. "So fucking wet for me, Gods. I heard rumor virgins were wetter, but fucking hell."

"Or perhaps it's just for you," you whispered in his ear, holding on tighter as a coil slowly tightened in your lower belly. Almost on instinct, your hips moved to hump into his hand.

"Hmm," Aemond considered, "say that again, but without the perhaps."

You chuckled, pausing for a moment before telling him in his ear, "'M just so fucking wet for you, and only you, my Prince."

"Gods," he groaned, pulling his hand free to straighten up. "On the pillows, love, go on." But you paused to beam obnoxiously at him. "What? What is it?"

"You called me 'love'."

He chuckled against you, leaning in to kiss you happily. "Got issue with that, Lady wife?"

"You will not hear complaint from me, Lord husband," you assured.

"Good - back on the pillows, then." When you pulled yourself back over the bed, he was quick to follow overtop of you; pressing another kiss to your lips as he settled between your legs. "I will warn you, there might be some complaint the first few minutes."

"Oh," you nodded, "yes, I-I was warned of that. And it is common for there to be a bit of blood, too."

"Good to know," he smirked, pecking your lips. "You need only tell me if it's too painful, but it will be before the pleasure takes over. But if it's too much, just tell me."

You nodded and pet over his cheek, promising, "I will."

He smirked, "Spread your legs, pretty wife."

You both paused, shaking your heads at one another, and you deciding, "'Pretty girl' is a solid option, 'pretty wife' sounds strange to my ears."

"Strange on my tongue, too," he agreed. "Pretty girl, it is."

You hummed in agreement, bringing his lips to yours as he helped shift your hips slightly. Then, his cock's head was sweeping up and down your slick - like his fingers had - and just paused to linger at your entrance.

"Hold onto me," he whispered, slowly pushing in - and feeling you instantly freeze.

"Fuck's sake," you wheezed as he went.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"There's more!?"

Aemond was unable to fight off his laughter, leaning down to push his tongue into your mouth before pressing forward the rest of the way - pressing his hips to yours in full.

"Fucking hell," you whispered against him. "Oh, wow, okay, okay..."

"All right?"

"I don't know," you admitted. "Feels very strange."

He nodded, leaning in to kiss you softly. "Tell me when it's okay to move. This will be uncomfortable until you're acquainted, and then it'll feel better - I swear it."

You nodded, "Go ahead."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you whispered, moaning when his tongue swept into your mouth again. "Holy shit - Gods be good," you whined when he began to retract his hips and push forward again; the friction created something mouthwatering.

"Fuck," Aemond panted, humping a little faster. "Ah, shit, you feel fucking divine, sweet girl. Fuckin' made for me."

You readjusted your hips again and let him work at a new angle. His mouth hung open for a few thrusts, eye fluttering close as your hands gripped anywhere they could reach. And with his motions, you started moving your own hips; fucking him back, to his approving groan. His mouth found purchase against your neck, biting, sucking, licking; humming into flesh as pleasure coursed.

"Aemond, fuck, fuck, fuck, harder," you pleaded, letting your knees reach your chest as his hands pushed the backs of your thighs in a new, bruising grip. His balls slapped against the apex of your cunt, creating something of a rhythm amongst the room that met the chorus of your moans, groans, and his grunts.

"Take it," he growled, hands sliding up to hold the back of your knees. His hips were relentless. "Oh, fuck, good girl - 's my good fuckin' girl. Feel so fuckin' good, taking all of me your first time," he smirked down at you, reaching a hand for your throat when he felt your walls tightening as his cockhead pounded into that soft, spongey spot.

You whined against the pressure on your throat - not enough to constrict but enough to feel all the way down into your toes.

"Gods," he groaned when your velveteen walls stroked him for all he was worth, "look at you, so fuckin' ready for me."

"Yes," you whimpered, reaching for his neck to yank him closer. "Please, please - "

"Tell your husband what you need, Princess," he smirked, dropping his lips to stick to yours - and pull apart messily.

You whined lowly in your throat, "Wanna cum."

"Where?"

Your hands shook as you held his cheeks in your grip, "Around you."

"That's my girl," he purred, moving himself at a renewed pace. "Where do you want me, pet?"

"In me," you didn't even realize you moaned that aloud until he groaned from deep in his chest; brows furrowed, and one hand holding himself up as the other dropped to your cunt. "Wait, wait, wait - "

"That's the feeling, my girl," he promised, fingering your pearl. "Chase it, let it come for you - let it come, good girl," he praised, catching your body when you arched into him and came with a soft cry.

"Ae-Aemond," you begged still, eager to please. His hands held your hips in place, face held to your neck; hips pumping relentlessly to chase his own end now. "Please - oh, fuck!"

He came with a shout of his own, hips swooping to thrust into yours once, twice, a third time, then grinding to a slow halt as his balls contracted to release his load in your warmth.

"Shit," he panted, body giving up some to collapse into your own. It pushed his cock further up, making your mouth open in shock; arms coiled around him to keep him against you.

"Yeah," you agreed, letting a hand smooth down his hair. His breath fanned across your collarbones, and readjusted your hold on him to press a kiss to his forehead. "All right?"

"Yeah, yeah, good," he chuckled, pecking his lips up your neck. "Are you all right?"

"Mhm," you nodded at him, noses brushing together before his lips met yours - again - slowly. "So, that's what we've been avoiding?"

He smirked, "Well, you've been avoiding, Lady, and I've been dreaming."

"How'd it match up in life?"

Your husband offered a soft smile, "'S like you're a dream come into my arms. If there is a heaven, I think I've found it."

"Oh, please - "

"No, truly, Lady," he nodded, letting his lips peck yours again. "Here, with you, I am at peace."

"Then make a bargain with me?"

"Cock's still in you, so, ask anything of me - 's yours."

You giggled lightly and rolled your eyes as he fixed himself up to his elbows to keep the pressure off your chest. "Spend some time alone with me in the next few days?"

"Lady - "

"No, I mean, let us take a period of time away from everything and just," you shrugged a bit.

"Hump?"

Your eyes rolled, "I was aiming for something a little more poetic, but sure, yes, yes, stay with me and fuck me properly."

"My Lady wife," he teased, "I did not think you so brash."

"You've not been paying attention," you teased. "Please?"

He chuckled through his nose, nodding as he shifted himself towards your side - huffing a bit when his cock pulled free of your warmth. "Whatever it is you want in this life, wife, I'll give to you," he decided as he crashed to the bed beside you, offering an open arm for you to curl against his chest.

"You sound smitten, Prince," you accused gently, nestling into your new home - at his side.

"Perhaps I am, Princess," he told you, eye taking in your entirety. "Perhaps you have me enraptured, and I am unwilling to leave your clutches."

You hummed and let your lips press to his, slowly increasing the tempo as your own libido felt newly heightened. How strange, the moment you lost your virginity, you suddenly crave the action of another warm body - or perhaps, you craved the body of your husband.

None the less, Aemond let loose the faintest of moans; hand coming up to hold the back of your head, mouths moving in sync.

When you pulled back, it was only just to mutter, "Perhaps the feeling is mutual."

"Good," he whispered, licking into your mouth again. He hummed and pressed one last hardened kiss to your mouth, then pulled back. "Give me time to nap and I will spend days worshipping you. Yes?"

"Deal," you agreed against his swollen lips, breathing stuttering when your teeth caught his bottom lip and pulled.

"Devil woman," he whispered, hand wrapping around your throat. "Behave."

"You're not making the point you think," you whispered.

"My girl likes my hand at her throat?"

"Only in this sort of position," you smirked, lips catching his own again to tangle together in a frenzied dance of passion and newly found, newly formed love.

[ part one ]

[ series masterlist ]