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simpxxstan · 2 days

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Nobody Else (final: part 2)

pairing: chaebol!wonwoo x chaebol!fem.reader

genre: enemies with benefits to lovers, smut (minors do not interact please), arranged marriage, a lot of angst, and some fluff.

summary: the girl who was proud about making her own destiny, the boy she swore to never interact with. sometimes it takes a lifetime to know someone, even yourself. because who would've seen any of this coming?

chapter word count: 22.8k

warnings: angst warnings: overthinking, anxiety, a lot of it. spiralling, constant worries, mention of insomnia. mention of illnesses and a lung tumour, hospitals, medical treatments, relapse. discussions about death. please do not read if you find these triggering! a lot of arguing and usage of profanities. mention of smoking, drinking, food.

smut warnings: oral sex (m. receiving, f. receiving), usage of sex toys, unprotected sex, overstimulation, dom-sub dynamics, breast play, spanking, use of spit during sex, usage of petnames (darling, babe, sweetheart, princess, baby for female), degradation, usage of sir (for male), sir kink, marriage kink, breeding kink, office sex, elevator sex, sex in a public place.

a/n: OH MY GOD. so many people were waiting for this, i can't even imagine. i've had some really tough months when i could not find time to write at all, so i am very sorry for the delay. well, here you go! i hope it meets your satisfactions! putting the taglist in a reblog because the fanfic itself is massive. please let me know your thoughts!! reblogs, comments and asks are so appreciated <3 thank you for reading!

part 1

You bite your nails nervously. You do this often, it’s a habit you mask well through regular manicures at your home. No one knows about it. No one needs to know.

You’ve tried it all in these last two days, you swear. You’ve tried every trick on the web- listing the pros and cons of your thoughts on a sheet of paper (on your phone’s notes app), venting to someone (yourself in the mirror), meditation, drinking wine and unwinding in a bathtub, listening to white noise to help you sleep.

It doesn’t help. Nothing does. Nothing helps to erase the thoughts from your mind, nothing helps to stop the cogs and wheels of the gears turning in your head, nothing helps to drown out the noise of your overthinking. You’ve worried yourself to a fever, and it’s on the fourth day that Jisung caves in and asks you, “Ma’am, are you doing okay?”

You can trust him, you know that. He had, after all, not outed your antics to your mother in spite of her attempts at bribing him with a higher salary. He had remained loyal to you, as he had himself confirmed when you’d brought up the issue with him the day after the fateful lunch invitation.

But he feels too close, too personal, and yet too distant. He would understand, and yet nothing at all. It feels like a gamble.

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” You smile, while popping another paracetamol. At least the fever and its meds help you sleep.

“You don’t look like yourself. I don’t know if I am in a position to say this, but… is this about the thing your mother discussed with you Ma’am?”

“Are you reading my mind, Jisung-ah? Is that your secret to being the best secretary in the world?” You chuckle drily, staring outside the glass window that makes up a wall in your office. It’s a rainy day, not the stormy kind, but the pestering kind. Where it drizzles light enough that people don’t want to carry umbrellas, but the rain is so insistent, it drenches you right through anyway.

“I don’t know how appropriate it is for me to ask anything regarding this Ma’am. But I genuinely am curious about how Mr Y/L/N and Mr Jeon agreed to it in the first place.”

On the day you’d spoken to him about the entire affair, you’d told him the truth about your relationship with Wonwoo. His loyalty had earned him at least this much truth, and you were glad to have a confidant. You tried to play it off as coolly as you could, but as soon as you’d spilled the truth, you’d realise what a big weight had been relieved off your chest. It felt like being a teenager again. You had explained to Jisung that it was not romantic in the least, and in fact, you wanted to draw an end to it. You didn’t care to tell him that it was because you were addicted like a drug.

That was the problem. These last three days wouldn’t have become such a burden for you had you simply called Wonwoo and sought his help. Like a magician, he’d silence the thoughts in your mind and leave you with more clarity than ever, almost like a fresh slate beginning anew. You knew he was the perfect solution, but you had decided to cut it off. There was no point in persisting in this kind of a relationship where you weren’t even friends, not even on talking terms, and yet you needed him to stabilise you. All while he didn’t need you at all. For him, you were just another of his regulars. He’s probably already replaced you by now.

“My mother can be… very capable when she wants. She has her ways.”

“I’m sure she does. It must not have been an easy feat to swallow pride to agree to the idea of the wedding and take the Jeons out for lunch.”

Words get stuck in your throat. Pride. You’ve never let go of it. Life has been humbling, but you’ve never stopped being proud of who you are and what you’ve been able to achieve. All the dreams you’ve fulfilled. It forms an integral part of who you’ve become, your identity, and the way you perceive yourself. You’ve tried to not let it become arrogance nor vanity, although you have had sufficient reasons. That discipline is also something you pride yourself on.

“But I guess it’s not a big price for happiness,” Jisung completes his little philosophical speech and busies himself with arranging out letters on your desk that need to be signed, arranged in order of urgency. “I’ll be at my desk Ma’am, should you need any help.” He bows and leaves the room, and you’re still staring out of the window.

Happiness.

What an odd word. What an odd sensation for the billions of people across the world to be chasing all their lives. You had always considered yourself to be above that rat race for gratification and validation. Your successes spoke for itself, and you had no reason to consider yourself unhappy when you were living the dream you’d envisioned since you were a child.

But are you happy?

It’s just for an enjoyable late night drive, you reason with yourself when you find yourself driving on the road that takes you from your office to Wonwoo’s office building. It’s just to see if their coffee has improved, you think, when you step into the building and walk inside. It’s just to see if their employees are forced to work overtime, you figure, when you’re granted a visitor pass by the reception desk even though they’re shocked to see you here.

“What are you doing here?”

Wonwoo stares at you from the end of the corridor. It’s not lit very brightly and totally empty.

“Are you busy?”

Wonwoo’s tongue goes into his left cheek, you see it through his skin. He’s wearing a suit in baby blue. You knew he’d look good in blue.

“Yes. I’m working late as you can see. I don’t enjoy it particularly, so I don’t do it unless I’m really behind on work.”

And why’s that so? Trying to catch up with our closing figures for the financial year? A snarky comment is on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t want to say it. The jibe feels tasteless, even for you.

No, tonight you’re here in desperation, you finally admit to yourself. You’re here because like any other addict, it’s hard to let go once you get used to the high of happiness you ride when the dopamine kicks in.

“Sorry. I’ll leave.” His rejection is clear. He knows what you’re here for, that’s for sure. You’d never go out of your way to come to his office if it had been for anything else. It’s a good reminder call of reality.

This is the boy your parents want you to marry. This is the boy you rejected from marrying and from sleeping with. He has every right to turn you down now.

Wonwoo takes a step forward, you take a step backward. It’s a dance. You pause, you don’t even know when you were on the verge of tears. You bite your lips and turn away your face. You walk away quickly, as silently as you arrived. Your thoughts are loud enough to mask the sound of Wonwoo jogging after you, and you only realise when he grabs your arm as soon as you enter the elevator. He enters too, naturally, face a bit flushed from the chase, but before you can ask him what’s up, he pushes you against the mirror on the back of the elevator and kisses you hard.

It knocks your breath away. In the best way possible.

You kiss him back. Wildly, passionately. Like lovers, you would think in retrospection, not like rivals who fuck. As if you’d missed each other. Another second of overthinking and you’d delude yourself into believing that he needs you as much as you do. But thankfully, he kisses well enough to wash your thoughts away.

“Don’t run away from me like that, girl.” He snarls near your ear, his breath making you ticklish, and you whimper when he begins to kiss your neck. He’s going to leave marks again, and frankly, you can’t find it in yourself to reprimand him. Not when your brain is finally drifting away from the anxiety.

The elevator dings just as he puts his lips back on yours, tongue forcing itself in. You break apart, gasping for air. You haven’t even noticed what a mess you’ve made of his hair. “Wonwoo I… I can leave, really. If you’re busy.” “No, stay.” He doesn’t step away from you even when the elevator door opens, holding you down with his hands, keeping you close to him. The elevator door closes again, and he frantically presses the floor number of his office. “Come with me while I pack up,” he says as an explanation, and you understand. Then he unbuttons your shirt and begins to suck bruises all over the exposed flesh over your collarbones and chest, hands fondling with your breasts. Even over the bra, he instantly finds your nipples and rubs them to perfect hardness, making them so sensitive, that when he lifts you up into his arms and wraps your legs around his waist, your nipples brush against his face and he can feel the nubs poking out.

“You get turned on like you’re a touch-starved bitch,” he says roughly, making you thrash your arms against his back for the rudeness, before chuckling and thrusting his mouth onto the clothed nipples to suck them while he walks out of the elevator, holding you in his arms still, and seemingly facing no difficulty in walking at all. You become silent again, as you ponder on how strong he really must be, and his bites at your nipples do nothing to prevent the manhandling kink from showing itself.

“Take me on your desk, Wonwoo.” You beg as he enters his office, but he laughs and puts you down on his chair. Thankfully the entire floor is empty. He begins to arrange papers and turn off his desktop, while you sit silently at his desk. The high slowly wears out as his clearing up takes longer and longer, until you’re no longer turned on anymore and reality strikes.

He looks at you once all the work is done, staring deep at your soul, making you feel naked. Consciously, you start to button up your shirt and fix your collar.

“I thought we were done with this, Y/N.”

He says it like you’d dumped him while dating, and it’s funny. But you can’t laugh. You did cut him off and now you’re begging him to take you back. It’s a little absurd- inconsistency has never been one of your weaknesses. You’re tempted to dissect it in your brain and understand why it’s happening, but you fall into a spiral of overthinking again.

It’s getting tough to breathe.

You stand up and walk around the room. It’s spacious, with a simple layout, nothing modern like your own office space. You can’t blame it, it definitely screams Wonwoo to you. Instead of huge windows on the walls, he has mahogany shelves stacked with books. Instead of a statement chandelier, he has minimalist lights in focal points of the room. Instead of a charcoal grey settee with everything in cool shades of steel, his office is done in off-white, decorated with rich tones of wood. The room tells you so much about Wonwoo, although you probably know it all already- legacy, tradition and diligence. This is what he’s made of, old money that takes no risks and succeeds without gambles.

“You know why I had to come back.”

“That doesn’t change anything.” He walks up to you, standing in front of you, as you gaze at the books on his shelves. “Y/N, look at me.” And you do. He looks like Adonis and you want to kiss him. “You said it was getting toxic for you.” He snaps you back to attention, and you sigh. “I can’t… Wonwoo, I tried. But I…” you walk away, unable to continue. Continuing would mean telling him what’s driving you to the brink of anxiety every moment of the day.

“We can talk. If this is about that day, we’re in this together. We may not be friends, but we can be allies in this.”

The simple way in which he says these words, you don’t think he realises how much more vulnerable he makes you feel. How much more tempted to spill it all to him and be relieved of the burden of this worry.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Wonwoo. I didn’t come here for talking.” You walk back towards him. “Fuck me and make my brain stop thinking, please.” He closes his eyes for a second. The tension is palpable, it’s making your palms sweat. You tilt your head and gently lean in to kiss the edge of his jaw. His stubble grazes against your softer lips and it’s a nice feeling.

“I can’t say no when you ask like this.”

You wake up in the middle of the night, clammy with sweat and naked under the sheets, alone in Wonwoo’s king-sized bed. Your wrists hurt from being tied with his tie for too long, and you’re definitely too sore to move, but the pleasant buzz all over your body is too good a sensation to forgo. But now that you’ve woken up, you feel thirsty and hot all over, so you get out of bed. You notice your underwear neatly kept on the couch, Wonwoo had taken care to not rip them. You quickly wear them before looking for any waterbottle in the room. Seeing none, and not seeing Wonwoo either, you open the bedroom door and slowly tiptoe your way outside. Once past the small corridor, you notice there’s a dim light in the kitchen, and you can see Wonwoo’s shadow from far away. As you step closer, you notice he’s wearing formals, complete with a glazing white shirt and a grey tie, and his hair is brushed back neatly, although his pants are still pyjamas. He’s doing something on his laptop. You wait in the shadows for a few minutes, trying to understand if he’s in a video meeting or something, but you only hear frantic typing noises from the kitchen. After a whole five minutes pass, you step into the kitchen, and Wonwoo looks up at the same time.

“Oh! You scared me.”

“Are you in a meeting?”

“No, it got over a while back. Why are you up?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“The meeting was with a firm in Canada. They couldn’t adjust timings.”

“And you couldn’t get someone else to do it for you?” You huff, annoyed at how unbothered he is about waking up this ungodly hour and sitting for meetings. You once again thank Jisung for scheduling foreign meetings at suitable timings.

“Do you get someone else to attend your important meetings for you?”

You both stay in silence for a minute, Wonwoo sitting on his kitchen stool, and you standing awkwardly near the door, staring at each other. It’s only when you start shivering in the cold that you realise what you actually came here for.

“You’re working hard. Too hard. Don’t try to compete with me, Jeon.” You lean down on the island next to him, close enough to hear his breathing but not touching him at all.

“Go to bed, Y/N.”

“I was thirsty. Where do you keep water in your house?”

He gets up from his stool and brings a bottle. “Drink, and go to sleep. Or go home.”

You silently sip the cool water, without replying. You can see the dawn slowly coming up from the window in the kitchen, lighting the room up. The circles under Wonwoo’s eyes become prominent to you, and for no reason at all, your heart aches. This is what it’s going to be like, marrying you, Jeon Wonwoo, you think, as you look at him with a careful glance. He’s focusing on his laptop again, typing at light speed, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose. You’re sipping water from his bottle, in his kitchen, wearing nothing but your underwear, and watching the sunrise. Is this what those nights filled with deadlines and insomnia are going to look like if you get married? Is this what staying up together will look like? Is this what watching the dawn together will be like? The sensation tingles your nerves and makes you anxious again.

“Y/N, if you want to say something, just say it. Or go to sleep, trust me. You’ll need to wake up fresh tomorrow morning.”

The kitchen is warm, cosy, and filled with the familiar scent of Wonwoo’s body. You want to stay wrapped in it, and not say a word. You don’t want to break this moment, although you have no idea why sharing this simple moment is making you so emotional. Perhaps because you’ve never done it before and never imagined you would do it?

“My father is dying, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo stops typing and looks up.

“He has a tumour in his lungs.”

“Since when?”

“A few months now. He hadn’t told me. He didn’t want to bother me, my mom said.”

There’s a beat of silence. Again the warmth of the kitchen wraps you up and you both stare out at the slowly brightening sky outside. As a girl, you’d hate watching the sunrise. It would remind you of the nights you’d been unable to sleep and had been forced to stay up all night. But now, you can appreciate its beauty. Its consistency, its reliability. It happens every day. One of the precious few things that happen regularly, you’ve come to realise.

Wonwoo breaks the silence. “So why now?”

“Huh?”

“Why tell you now, of all times?”

“He wants to see me married before he dies.”

Wonwoo shuts down the lid of his laptop with a smash, knowing fully what’s coming next.

“Y/N. What do you want?” He stands up and comes to stand next to you, leaning against the counter and looking down at you.

There are many things you want to say. I don’t want to throw away my freedom. I don’t want to marry a stranger. I don’t want to dance to my Appa’s whims. I don’t want to lose focus on my career. I don’t want to marry you. “I don’t want to disappoint him, Wonwoo.” It’s the ultimate truth. It’s what has fueled you for years- the desire to become that child for your parents who would take care of them when they need you, to love silently and support unconditionally, to give back everything they’d given to you.

“I don’t want to lose him.”

“Is this what you were so worried about?” You look up at him, and he tilts your face upwards with his hand on your chin. You want to lean into the warmth of his palm. “Yes. I don’t… I … I don’t know what to do. I feel so helpless.”

“What about treatment?”

“Stage 4, practically impossible, that’s what the reports say. My mom showed them to me. She cried so much, and I… I couldn’t do anything. I can’t do anything.” You move away from him, turning your body to the other side. He lets you move away.

“Treatment abroad? In the US?”

“Yes, that’s… that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. I’ve spoken to a few people, but Appa is adamant. He refuses to talk to me about this every time I’ve raised it, these last few days.”

He sighs. Your heart aches again. You don’t even notice when tears begin rolling down your cheeks. You’ve never felt more alone than this, more helpless, more pitiful. What worth were your dreams and successes if life successfully left you unshielded in one stroke?

“Let’s get married. You’ll have more bargaining power to talk to him then.”

He makes it sound so simple. You’ve thought of this a hundred times before, and you still can’t register that he just said that. You turn around slowly, looking up at him through your wet eyelashes. “Don’t joke with me.”

“I’m not.”

“But I don’t want to marry you.”

“Even if it gets your Appa into a good treatment abroad?”

You stomp your foot, and hurt your bare toes on the cold tile. “Why is my Appa so stubborn?”

“Just like you, isn’t he?”

You glare at Wonwoo, but he’s deadly serious. There’s not a hint of a joke on his face, and he genuinely seems to be invested in this idea. “You’re serious.” “I am. I wouldn’t offer marriage to you casually.” You bite your lip, your heart rate begins to slow down. Wave after wave of calm washes over you, suddenly you can breathe well again. “You’re serious,” you say again, not believing it still. “I am. Do you want me to go down on my knees?” “Wonwoo, you’re not thinking about this. Don’t turn your back on me when you regret it later. This isn’t a light thing, it’s a marriage, for fuck’s sake!” “Is your Appa’s life more precious than your ego?” “If it weren’t, I wouldn’t have come begging to you, would I?” “Then you know why I’m agreeing to this.” “Wonwoo, don’t take this on your conscience. I’ll forgive you if you step back right now.” “I won’t forgive myself.” He bends down to your eye level, and takes your chin in his hand again. “It isn’t going to be that bad, is it?”

You let out such a big sigh of relief that you’re sure the air tickles Wonwoo’s palm holding on to your chin.

You don’t fall asleep that night, or rather morning. Wonwoo makes tea, and you sit on the living room couch, an arm’s distance away from each other, chalking out a plan to convince your Appa to go abroad for treatment.

“When did your mother come and tell you all this?”

“The day after the lunch. She called me over.”

You’re our breadwinner now, Y/N. Your father didn’t want to tell you because he doesn’t want to bother you anymore. Your mother’s words echo in your mind. Is this what you’d come down to? Were you that male who couldn’t be bothered with any problems of the household just because you earned an income? Had you become those slimy men you’d hated all your life? Just because you had taken over the company didn’t mean you had stopped being their daughter, for god’s sake.

“He wants to die in Korea, he says.”

“That doesn’t mean we let him die without treatment.”

We. Wonwoo has started using it so freely, as if he’s truly considering you an ally like he had said before.

“What are you going to get out of this?” You perch yourself on the kitchen counter, your bare legs dangling next to where Wonwoo sits on his stool. You’re chewing on the granola bar you found in the fridge because you’re suddenly hungry.

Wonwoo looks at you for a second, pensive and thoughtful in the pause before replying. “We don’t have to do forever and always. We can divorce after the treatment is done.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I have my reasons.”

The sunrise is beautiful, another day has begun. Although one tornado in your heart has calmed down, it doesn’t mean you’re completely at peace though. You’re still burning with worry, there are a thousand questions floating in your head. You don’t know the answers to most of them, and you’re scared just like you had been when you had stepped into the adult world on your own footing, for the first time. But unconsciously, you’ve come to realise that you’re not alone this time.

You have Jeon Wonwoo with you.

You drive directly to your sister’s house to tell her about your decision. You realise that she has no idea that your mother has spilled the news about your father’s health to you, when you tell her that you’re only agreeing to this marriage on one condition. She tries to deny it at first, but then she realises it’s a useless task against your obstinacy.

“If you could admit now that you were dating Wonwoo, why didn’t you admit it that day?” she says finally, resignedly.

“So that you could hide Appa’s illness from me forever?

“It’s nothing like that.”

“Firstly, tell me why you’d been stalking me for so long.”

“Not for so long. Ever since Appa found out, he became obsessed with settling you down. It’s become his last wish, you know, that kind of thing. His last project. His last duty. His last task to complete before he… you know. It was just a happy coincidence that as soon as we prodded your chauffeur he spilled that you and Wonwoo had been spending an awful lot of time together.”

You scoff.

“Yeah, well, Wonwoo and I needed to talk over things. Commitment and stuff. Anyway, now we’ll give Appa what he wants. Promise me you won’t object to anything I say. Promise me you and Mom will back me up when I take him to the US for treatment.”

Her eyes soften down, tears brimming on the edge.

“He always loved you more, you know? Probably because you’re exactly like him.” “Unnie…” “No! I’m not jealous or anything. It’s natural to have a favourite child. He’s only human, after all. He found his ideal child in you- responsible and independent. He really sees himself in you, that’s why.”

You hug your sister from the side, as you sit down on the couch. Her belly is quite bulging now, stretched against the fabric of the loose lycra dress.

“If anyone can convince him, it’s you, Y/N-ah. Our maknae. The apple of his eye.” She smiles. There’s something so broken in her eyes, and you hate it. Your Unnie, who you’ve never seen sad. You wonder how much she’s had to hide from you to keep this news a secret. You wonder how long they’d planned to keep it a secret, anyway.

“Do you trust me, Unnie?”

She kisses your forehead, and smiles again, “Yes of course. Where’s this coming from?”

“It’s just… nothing. I just want to know I’m not alone.”

“You never were, sweetheart.”

After that, everything becomes a whirlwind. You barely have time to process things, how fast they happen. Wonwoo informs his parents, there’s another meal shared by the two families. You both still don’t tell anyone the truth about your relationship, and frankly, there’s no need to explain, when both families are so happy with the wedding. Especially your father. His eyes shine, and you stick by his side all evening.

“My little girl’s all grown up now.” He says to you later. You almost cry at the fondness of his words, affection he rarely shows. There’s no more words spoken. There’s no need for words. You tuck him into bed, and pat him to sleep. You don’t want to leave his side at all.

You don’t cross paths with Wonwoo for the week running up to the wedding. There’s a clear division of work- he’s handling the internal logistics, and you’re running the external front. This is nothing but a business project for the two of you. You’ve pushed the worries about the marriage to the back burner, your priority being your father right now. You’ve already booked a treatment plan for him in the US, booked his flight tickets, and sorted everything out. Of course, you haven’t approached the topic with him yet, but you drop hints every day.

You’ve decided to live with your parents until the wedding. You find it harder to stay away from them these days. Somehow, everything reminds you of them, and you’re brought to tears in the middle of a work meeting one day, when you remember how your father had brought you to the first stakeholder meeting when you were 16 years old, to introduce you to the world of business. You don’t want to leave life upto fate anymore. At least not the bits you can help.

Part of managing the external front is speaking to the media. There’s countless questions at your latest press conference. Although the conference is to launch a new product, the journalists seem to be more interested in hearing the truth about the rumours currently floating around. You’d expected this, that’s why you’d timed the release of the rumours and the launch of the product at the same time. The public opinion needs to be in favour of your marriage, otherwise the alliance would hurt you both.

“Y/L/N Y/N-ssi, is it true that you’re soon getting married to Jeon Wonwoo-ssi of Jeon Estates?”

You blush, again a carefully practised move. You’ve spent many a minute in front of a youtube screen last night, trying to perfect the fake blush.

“Are we really going to discuss personal matters at an official conference like this?” Another measured smile, followed by a general laugh rippling across the audience for the sake of being polite. “But yes, it’s true. I won’t try to hide it anymore.”

At that very moment, a thousand questions pop up from all corners. “Anymore? Y/L/N Y/N-ssi, does that mean that you’ve been together for a long time now?” “Can we expect a merger of Jeon Estates with your company, then?” “Is the marriage a business decision or an affair of love?”

You’re another fake smile away from throwing up right now. Their curiosity gets on your nerves, you know that no matter what you say, they’re going to interpret what they really want to. Thankfully Jisung, who is moderating, carefully steps in and stops the journalists from asking any more questions. “We’ll not be taking any more personal questions. With that we come to the end of the conference. If you have any more questions, please write to us and we shall answer them over mail. Thank you for attending today.”

You exit the conference hall quickly, eyes hurting from the flashlights. It’s going to only get worse, you think. Time to brace for impact.

It’s only the night before the wedding that you get the jitters. You’re sitting on the floor of the balcony, looking at the roads of the Seoul night view, stress-eating cotton candy. You can’t believe that this is happening. Would you ever be able to have guessed this is how you’d be getting married? Not that you had ever harboured any ambitions about love or marriage. You’d been happy to see your parents share a loving marriage, and your sister as well. But since a young age, you’d decided that marriage was not for you. Sex? That was necessary. Dating? Perhaps, but casual. Love? Your first relationship in college had convinced you it was not your forte- you’d fallen out of feelings after a few months, and you had never tried to fall in love again. Marriage? Not even on the cards right now. Kids? Probably never. You didn’t think you’d live that long.

And yet, your wedding invite was sitting idle on your lap. Printed on beautiful handmade paper, intrinsically engraved with orchid petals, and the fonts printed out in a loopy serif font, it was really pretty. Posh and classy, like everybody expected. It had been sent out to a few people only, Wonwoo had asked for a small wedding, and you had happily agreed. Having to deceive your parents and sister was bad enough. Lesser the better.

The doorbell rings. You’re taken by surprise, not expecting anyone at this hour. Probably Jisung, perhaps he’s come to drop something off. That boy’s working too hard as well, you need to give him a raise after this entire affair is finished.

But it’s Wonwoo.

“Are you busy?” He asks before even entering.

“No?”

“Can I come in?”

He looks over your figure, the long t-shirt you’re wearing with the shorts that are hidden under the t-shirt. You’re getting more confused by the moment. You open the door wider, and he steps in.

“What’s going on?”

“There are details we need to talk about.”

You take a deep breath, leaning against the wall. Since that conversation at dawn with Wonwoo, you had started guarding yourself against him. Something had changed in your mind- you’d feel more vulnerable next to him, more bared, more naked. Even if he didn’t look at you, you’d feel like you could read your mind all the time.

“Like what?”

“I made a contract. It’s a… guidebook of sorts.” He sits at the sofa, taking out his phone and placing it on your coffee table. He’s wearing his work clothes, so you’re guessing he’s come directly from work. “What’s it about?” You sit next to him, and he pushes your phone towards you. “Do you have a printer? We could print it out. Or you can-” “I’ll get a print. Do you want something?” He leans back on the sofa, but his posture is still stiff. You’ve not seen him like this. It’s almost like he’s nervous. “No. I need to leave quickly, so it’s best if you can go through this quickly. I don’t have time to waste.” You roll your eyes and stand up, keeping your knee perched on the sofa, terribly close to where his hand is. “What’s this attitude? We’re getting married tomorrow, and this is how you’re going to be?” “Well, what did you expect? Just because I agreed to marry and help you out, doesn’t mean I’m going to suddenly be in love with you.” “Help me out? I didn’t fucking need your help, Wonwoo!” “Really? Your desperation told me something else that night.” He’s standing up now too, and it feels like he’s towering over you on purpose to make you feel small. You take a step back, he doesn’t move forward. It’s not push and pull, it’s gravity unwinding.

“Listen, we can still call this off. I don’t want to be an object of your pity.”

“Pity? I wanted to help you, Y/N. There’s a difference, or is your brain too ego-clouded to understand?”

“Wonwoo, I could marry anyone-”

“And yet, it was me you came to!”

“It was convenient! I couldn’t really marry … say, Jisung, when my parents had proof that we’d been sleeping together!”

“Oh, so it’s Jisung now-”

“It was a damn example!” You’re shouting now, but his voice is still low and hoarse. It creates goosebumps on your skin.

“If that’s who you want to marry, you can go ahead. You better know that I have no desire to be wedded to you tomorrow!” He takes a step forward, and you step back. “What do you think I am, huh? Your toy? Today you want to fuck, tomorrow you want to end things, the next day you come begging at my door to blow your mind with my dick, and the day after that you want to get fucking married? You don’t think keeping up with your plot twists are stressful for me? Do you think I’m getting off on your mood swings? I am helping you, because you’re in a dire situation. Don’t you dare spin this narrative to anything else, because it is not charity or love for you that’s motivating me to step into this hell of a marriage that I can see coming.”

With every word he utters, he steps closer and closer, and you keep walking back until your back hits the wall. And then he’s standing right in front of you, close enough that you can see the exact dilation of his pupils even beyond his glasses. “I don’t need your help, Wonwoo. I’m not a damsel in distress.” He closes his eyes for a second, breathing in. When his eyes do open again, they’re different- darker, yet with more clarity, less angry and yet more dangerous. He leans down, and for a second, for a delusional mindless moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You part your lips, waiting for impact, as he tilts his head ever so slightly, all while staring into your soul.

“I don’t give a fuck about you, Y/N. I don’t care. I’m just repaying an old debt.”

Then he steps back and picks up his phone from the coffee table. “I’ll mail it to you. Don’t be a brat and make sure to read it.”

You’re still stuck against the wall like an insect, too stunned to move. Before he walks out of the door, he says without looking at you, “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

The wedding dress is simple, nothing in frills. You see it for the first time when you wear it on the morning of your wedding. As you sit in your dressing room, revising your vows, your sister enters. She’s all but jumping in excitement. “Darling, why so serious?” She grabs your hands and smiles widely at you. “Today’s your big day! Don’t think about Appa’s sickness today, or work stuff, or anything at all. Your wedding day isn’t going to come back, so you make sure to make the most of it!” You wish you could laugh at her face, her words seeming ridiculous to you. You wish she wasn’t so excited, it would only save her the disappointment she’d have to face later.

So you force a smile. “Is it time? I’m just nervous. What if I forget my vows?” “Then you forget them. You love Wonwoo, Y/N-ie. You can just declare your love freely. You don’t need to stick to a script. Go ahead and curse him if you like!” You do laugh at this, and she joins you too. “There! That’s my girl. Honestly, discovering that you and Wonwoo… together… it was a shock for us. Like, we’d never thought of you both ever liking each other. But then, it made sense. Especially what he had said that night, I remember. That’s the moment I knew, something was definitely up” You gawk, “What night?” She giggles, “That night at the party. You know? Don’t act dumb, cutie.” She wriggles her eyebrows and it dawns on you what exactly she was referring to. Fuck. Of course she had heard, fuck Wonwoo for being so damn loud.

You got out of your head, when someone called you to the hall, telling you that it’s time. You slowly make your way out of your dressing room, making sure your dress doesn’t get spoiled. Your father waits outside the room, dressed elegantly.

“Are you ready?”

There’s an odd peace in his eyes, as he smiles at you with pride.

Fuck it. Thank god you’re getting married early. Otherwise who’d walk you down the aisle… if you got too late?

“Yes, Appa.” You smile back, and loop your arm through his outstretched arm.

The gates of the hall open up, revealing a beautifully decorated banquet, with an announcer standing in the centre, to conduct the ceremony. All the guests turn to look at you, dressed to their nines. But you’ve got eyes on only one person in the room.

For the first time in your life, you think Wonwoo looks beautiful. Attraction based on looks was barely something you experienced with him, but today you realise why people fell for him like dominos. He looks absolutely regal in his tuxedo- simple, yet that’s what suits him perfectly. You think, you’ve never seen Wonwoo wear anything excessive, always minimalistic, and really he looks best like that. Because he doesn’t need any accessories, his face does enough.

“Go, sweetheart,” your father leaves you midway the walkway, and you realise you have to walk the rest of the way on your own. You bow a little to Appa, and then look up front again. Your eyes meet Wonwoo’s and your heart races. He looks too pretty to be real, and yet you find yourself walking towards him. The entire audience erupts into applause when Wonwoo takes a few steps forward and extends his hand. You take it, and he accompanies you to your place, dropping your hand only after a slight peck pressed on the back of your hand. The crowd erupts in cheers again, and for the first time in your life, you blush genuinely.

You stand facing the announcer, not daring to look at the man next to you. You have enough time to look at him anyway.

The rest of the wedding ceremony went off peacefully. After reciting your vows perfectly, hand in Wonwoo’s hand, avoiding his eye contact desperately, and exchanging the rings, the announcer asked you to kiss. Well, that was easy. He didn’t use tongue, thankfully, otherwise you would’ve moaned in public. Even the drinks and dinner arrangement afterwards was easy. Smiling and small talk came like free flow to you after so many years.

The hard part comes later, when you both sit in your designated limousine, exhausted after the long ceremonies of the day. Your feet hurt in the heels, and using the washroom had been a pain in the dress, so you’d desperately held on to your bladder. You’re counting down the minutes to going home, and all you want is peace.

But Wonwoo, like so many other things, is not on the same page as you.

“Where are we going?” You ask, noticing that the car’s heading in the opposite direction as your house.

“To my house.”

“Wait, what?”

He looks up from his phone. “Didn’t you read the guide?”

“Wonwoo, I’m not jobless, you know.”

“I fucking knew it. Right, you’re too busy being a brat.” He mutters under his breath, before opening a can of a fizzy drink from the mini cooler inside the car, and looking outside the window.

“I haven’t even packed my stuff, Wonwoo. I can shift in once I’ve got my stuff ready.”

“You don’t know how many eyes are following us? What will the media think if we get off at different apartments tonight? It was hard enough stopping my parents from booking us a honeymoon suite.”

You sigh. He’s right. But he doesn’t stop talking.

“You’ve got time now, read the guidebook.”

“Just tell me what’s in it, Wonwoo. Stop making such a fuss about it. Also what the fuck is a guidebook without my suggestions.”

“If you’d read it, you would have made suggestions, darling. I wasted my time going to your place last night. Anyway, if you need anything urgently from your apartment, I’ll send my secretary to fetch it for you.”

“No thanks. I don’t need anything.”

Thank god you’re familiar with Wonwoo’s apartment, because you immediately lock yourself in the bedroom and take off your dress. Once it’s off, you unlock the room, and find an exasperated Wonwoo standing outside. “Woman, why are you monopolising territory already?”

“Just go change in the guest room, Wonwoo.” You push past him, dressed in underwear, carrying your heavy dress and laying it across the living room sofa to avoid creases from forming. Then you head straight into the bathroom to clean your makeup and take a shower. 30 minutes later you emerge, and Wonwoo’s nowhere to be seen.

After a few minutes you find him on the small personal rooftop that extends from his apartment through a small flight of stairs. You’d never gone to the roof, but now you see it has a nice bench on it, and is surrounded by lights.

Wonwoo’s smoking.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I didn’t know you were going to hoard my space as soon as you entered my house.”

He doesn’t look at you, still gazing out at the Seoul skyline.

“You could’ve used the other one.”

You breathe in once, and then speak again.

“I’m going to bed. I’m really tired.”

“Wait.” He finally turns around, and you can see his hair is completely messed up and his eyebags are visible under his glasses again.

“Did you take my clothes?”

“Just a pajama shirt.”

He nods, seeing what you’re wearing. The cool breeze makes your skin tingle, almost making you regret taking off your bra and wearing only panties under the shirt.

“Goodnight.”

“You’re not coming along?”

He turns away again. Well, fuck it. It’s not like you’re going to butter him up for a response. And yet when you go downstairs again, you make sure to sleep on the left side of the bed, like you’d always done whenever you’d slept together before. You don’t know why you do it, but you go to sleep assuming he’ll eventually come to bed.

He doesn’t. The next morning, you wake up to see the other side of the bed absolutely empty and untouched. He’s even taken away his pillow and blanket and you suddenly find yourself shivering. When you’re awake enough, you squint at the clock on the wall and figure out that it’s almost eleven in the morning. Quite late for someone like you. But then, it has been an exhausting day.

Did Wonwoo not sleep at all?

You put these thoughts away when you stumble into the washroom, nearly slipping because your step is unbalanced. But that minor shock completely jerks you awake at least.

Once you’ve brushed your teeth (without even realising how your toothbrush had magically appeared in Wonwoo’s bathroom even though you hadn’t packed and brought a thing), you walk out of the room. Again, there’s no sign of Wonwoo. The house is humid, from no windows being open, so you gently open up a few sources of ventilation. As the noise from the outside world begins to float into the house, the silence gets broken and you feel less claustrophobic. Sunshine falls on the simple upholstery and decorations of the house, and it makes everything shine. It’s a hot day, but at least it’s a sunny day. You hate gloomy days.

You quickly search for Wonwoo in every room. And you eventually notice that the bed in the guest room seems to have been slept in last night. Was that where Wonwoo had slept last night?

It didn’t make sense. It’s not like you two had not shared a bed earlier. Sure, Wonwoo had never stayed in the same bed with you for longer than an hour after the sex, unless it was a marathon until the morning, and you rarely ever woke up next to his warm body, but it seemed absurd that he’s treating you like a complete stranger. It’s not like the movies, for fucks’ sake. You’re familiar with each other, even if you’re not in love. And sharing a bed isn’t a big deal.

Exactly Y/N. So why are you making it such a big deal?

There’s a printout of something on the coffee table. You head over and see that it is the ‘guidebook’ he’s kept blabbering about. Why is he insisting that you read it? You have an impulse to go and dump it in the dustbin and push his limits a little further, but then you have pity on him. But it’s not like you wanted to stay with him either. He’s the one who made you come and live with him. So technically, you shouldn’t feel any remorse or pity. So you do dump the prints in the dustbin without a second look at it.

That’s when you hear your phone ring. “Hello, I’m speaking from ABC Packages. We’re here to shift your packages from your old house to your new residence. We’re waiting outside the door, are you at home?” Huh? “I’m sorry, who asked you to do this? Do you have a name?” “Yes Ms. Y/L/N. The order came from a Jeon Wonwoo-ssi.” No wonder. “Aaah. Okay, just wanted to confirm,” you quickly say to avoid any suspicion. “Yes I’m home. I’ll open the door.”

And so the next hour is spent in a flurry of bringing in boxes, and when the delivery persons leave, you open them all. There seems to be enough space in Wonwoo’s walk-in closet for your stuff, which isn’t much at all. So you hang up all your formals, which form the majority of your clothing, and stash the rest of it in the shelves. Your shoes are also lesser than Wonwoo’s and you barely have any accessories and makeup apart from essentials. The problem arises with your underwear and … other personal belongings. You’re not sure if Wonwoo would appreciate opening his underwear drawer to find your box of dildos stashed there. But there’s no other space, so he’ll just have to deal with it.

Thank God you’d taken the day off. Jisung had offered that staying away from work would make the impression of the honeymoon more imminent, and you’d agreed. Although it does seem like Wonwoo had gone to work all the same. And so, you’re left all alone in the house, and while it’s a little odd, you sit at almost every surface of the apartment to get used to it. Sure, you’ve been sat at all of these before, in various positions, as Wonwoo had fucked you, but it feels different now under the sunlight. You’re not surprised to find Wonwoo’s fridge stocked almost completely with ample groceries, so making lunch isn’t a hassle (apart from the fact that you barely know how to cook anything). But all-in-all, it’s not a tedious day, and you’re settling in nicely.

Until Wonwoo comes home, blazer on his arm and his hair messy. He lets himself in, but you’re sitting on the kitchen counter, checking out what’s kept where. “Oh, you’re here.” You turn around and see him flunking down on the sofa, legs sprawled out. “Are you that tired?” He doesn’t answer at first, just stares at you for a second too long. “I am. It’s been a long day.” “I’m making coffee, do y-” “No. I’m going to the gym now.”

Gym takes longer than you imagine. It’s well past 10 pm when Wonwoo makes his way back, and you’ve already finished your dinner of cup ramen and ice cream. He doesn’t bother to look at you and wordlessly enters the guest bathroom. You consider entering the guest room and waiting for him, and then talking to him about why he slept separately, but then you drop it. You know he won’t answer you properly, and it’ll be a waste of effort. You sigh and make your way to the bedroom, leaving the door unlocked and slightly ajar so that he knows he’s still invited inside.

Wonwoo and you arrive last at the little gathering your family has set up to celebrate the one month anniversary of your marriage. Wonwoo’s family is here too, along with Kyungmin Oppa and your sister, and it’s a big group even for the large sprawling, and largely empty house, where you parents reside. You’d think it’s easy to get lost in the crowd, but not when you’re the newly wed couple who’s the focus of the party.

“I’m so disappointed y’all aren’t going on a honeymoon,” your sister endlessly complains, and she’s completely backed by the two mothers. “Yes!” Your mother joins in. Just like the rest of the family members, she seems to have bought your wedding as 100% real as well, although she should’ve been the first to connect the dots that you’re only doing this sham wedding for the sake of your father’s wishes. “I have itineraries planned for Bali, for Scandinavia, for the Maldives, or even for Japan, if you don’t want to go too far!” She giggles, and the other ladies do too. You don’t understand what’s so funny. Especially when you know how little conversation you’ve shared with your husband over the last month, in spite of not being strangers.

In fact that makes it worse, you think. Wonwoo’s wearing a dark blue blazer over a white shirt which puts his pecs right in your face. You know what it’d be like to touch them, and bite all over them. The way he has his left hand pressed against the small of your back means he knows what it’d be like to just drop his hand an inch lower and feel your ass against his palm. Andit is worse because even though you know each other intimately, there’s so little emotional connection you feel with him now. Whatever vulnerability had developed around him when he’d first agreed to the wedding had become hardened again under his cold attitude, and you’re back to just who you were when you’d grinded up against him at your sister’s engagement party. You curse yourself for thinking that you could ever feel a nice way about Jeon Wonwoo, because honestly, look at the man. He’s probably never regretted any decision taken after midnight as much as he’s regretted the decision to marry you.

When you sit down at the dinner table, you notice him not eating any of the seafood. You wonder if he’s just not hungry or rudely ignoring the special grilled fish that is your Appa’s speciality. It’s probably the latter- some testosterone shit. And yet, he’s speaking charmingly smoothly with your Appa, even though Wonwoo’s not much of a talker and you know that.

When he sits in the corner of the room, smiling and talking to your mother, you wonder what lies he’s spewing. You’ve noticed how easily lies come to him at the wedding itself, when he’d spinned tale upon tale about your ‘love story’. I fell for her, honestly, for the first time, when she’d walked into my class in ninth grade. You had scoffed, remembering the disgusted expression he had worn in reality, when he’d seen you being introduced into the class. Of course, we’ve known each other for a long time now. Naturally, there have been ups and downs. Gosh, this reminds me of the time we’d gone on that date to the amusement park after our last day at school, huh? We’d fought so bitterly after that, you’d think we were enemies. Haha. You’d nearly laughed at that- your school had taken you all out to the amusement park on the last day of classes, and somehow Wonwoo and you’d been seated together on all the damn rides. Fuck him for laughing at you for becoming scared on the roller coaster rides and then pretending to take care of you when you had passed out in his arms at the very peak of the ride. You bet the teachers had cooed at him for being so chivalrous, when in reality it was a smack to your face.

When he leaves early, and leans in to press a kiss to your lips, you almost cringe away. It feels like you’re kissing a stranger even though his lips and the stubble on his jaw feel so familiar. This is the first time he’s shown you affection in front of others. It’s all a show, you know. You gotta do what’s needed to keep the show running. “I’ll see you at home, sweetheart,” he says before pulling away and tucking your hair behind your ears. You search in his eyes for honesty, and all you find is a dark abyss.

But it seems like your family buys the facade again. Banking on the fact that they seem pleased with your husband, and on your good choice of marriage, you finally broach the real issue with your father. You’re both sitting at the patio, sipping whisky after everyone’s left and the two of you have some peace after a long day of chattering and feasting.

“Appa, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Yes, Y/N-ah?”

You pause before answering. Finally, you decide to take the blunt route, knowing that there’s no easy way about this.

“Come with me to the US for your treatment.”

He sighs. It’s a sigh that sounds almost like a cough, and it makes you wonder how much phlegm is stored in his damaged lungs now. You wonder how you didn’t notice it before.

“Who told you?”

“Eomma.”

“Of course she did.” He sighs again, and looks at you. “Are you asking me or commanding me?”

“Appa, I’m not your boss. I can’t command you.”

“But you’re my daughter. I know how children feel when they think their parents aren’t listening to them.”

You smile. “I’ve always been stubborn, you know. I’ve got it in my genes.”

“Genes I’m proud of. How much has your mother told you? Did she mention I’m in stage 4 and it’s practically incurable?”

“Yes, and no. There are still chances to cure it, Appa, if only you’ll listen to me.”

“Sweetie-”

“Why aren’t you giving this another chance? I didn’t know you to be a person who easily gives up!” You can feel yourself getting angry, tears pooling in your eyes. It’s stupid how he’s arguing against it, illogical, meaningless. Your heart breaks every time you look at his eyes- they’re old, wrinkled, and yet the fire hasn’t gone out. Does he really want to end it all this fast?

“You know, I get where you’re coming from. But… I don't want to prolong suffering, Y/N-ah. It’s time, I can feel it. There’s no point being a vegetable pushed about in a wheelchair and drinking soup for the rest of my life. There’s no point living if I have to just gobble medicines all day and not drink any more port wine. There’s no point living a life which isn’t even a life, it’s just a laboratory experiment.”

You do burst out crying at this. You want to throttle his neck, and shake him, and ask how could he say such things.

“Aaah, Y/N-ah! Don’t cry-”

“You’re making me cry, Appa! You didn’t even tell me! Were you just planning to sit on it till it’s too late?”

“It is never too late, Y/N-ah. Appa is always here with you, even if I can’t be here physically.”

The tears don’t stop, he pulls you closer, until you’re wailing on his shoulder, and he hugs you with one arm.

“It’s not fair,” you mumble in between tears, hiccups interspersed in your words. Then he only rubs your back and you gently quieten down. “I don’t care, Appa. Come to the US with me. I’ve spoken to doctors, they’ve said there are chances to improve.” He smiles wistfully, looking at your face, which is childishly covered in snot and wet tears.

“Appa, you have to promise me you’ll try. For me, please. I’m not ready for this.”

“It will be a waste of time and effort. I would rather you pay attention to your career. And also your marriage.” “There’s not much to pay attention to. Wonwoo and I are busy almost all the time,” you try to dismiss him. “But you are young, and in love. I should believe there’s nothing other than your love life you should pay more attention to.” You sigh. It’s sad, just how well you and Wonwoo have deceived them all, even your most observant father. You wonder how it is possible, given how distant the two of you are- emotionally, always, and physically, recently. “There is something called urgency, Appa. There’s an order to how things need to be done.”

There’s a few long minutes of silence. Your father finishes the drink in his glass and looks at the stars in the sky. You, for one moment, are sure he’ll put up another fight. “You’ve never asked me anything with so much insistence, Y/N-ah.” “You’ve not hidden anything from me before, either.” There’s another pause. The waiting is tiring, and you’re going to cry again.

“Alright. I’ll do it, Y/N. But on one condition.” You hang on to his words, waiting for him to continue. “One chance. I’m not going back again if there is a relapse. I will not push my fate to a sour ending. You go back to your life, where I want to see you happy. And I will let nature take its due course.” You dare to smile, too afraid he’s going to take back his words. But then he smiles back, and beckons you to lie down on his lap, as he begins talking about something new he;s recently read, and you’re grateful for the distraction.

That night when you go home, you find Wonwoo playing in his gaming room. It’s a small room, probably meant to be a spare bedroom, or a kid’s bedroom, but he has an elaborate gaming setup there, and he locks himself up in it every weekend. Sometimes you wonder if he’s dead, but then you hear his cocky, hushed whispers of victory when you lean on the door. He’s always been good at games.

Today the door is slightly open, and you think for a deluded moment, that he perhaps left it open so that he could hear you enter the house. So you lightly knock and he turns around in his gaming chair. You realise he’s wearing a tank top, his hair hidden under a hideous beanie, and for a second, he doesn’t look like the brooding adult you’re married to.

“I spoke to Appa tonight.”

He looks up at you and takes off his headphones. He nods once, understanding immediately.

“I’m leaving for New York tomorrow, and I don’t want to delay the appointment.”

He stares at you for a second, then replies, “When is your flight?”

“Afternoon.”

“And how long are you going to be away?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps a month, perhaps longer. I don’t want to leave until it’s all done. I want to see it to the end.”

He nods again, standing up from his chair. The screen flashes something about the game being paused, and his character awkwardly bounces about in the game field. The character has black hair and wears glasses like Wonwoo.

“Pack enough, then. I’ll be here when you come back.”

You nod, and he smiles. This is why you got married in the first place, afterall. You bet he’s glad to get the wheels moving as quickly as possible so that this farce can come down before he’s so tired of it that your mere sight repels you.

The next three months pass by like a whirlwind, a miracle from heaven. Because not only are the doctors extremely positive about your father’s condition, but also hopeful for complete treatment. A part of you is too wary of everything going too great, too good to be true, and you’re crying every night when you lie sleepless in your hotel bed. There’s not a single second you’re free from anxiety, and there’s literally nothing else in your mind except praying that every minute of the treatment goes well. You’ve never been so nervous, except when you’d been in college and getting your papers approved by your professors and they’d laughed straight up in your face at your ambitiousness. You get periodic calls from your colleagues, the managers and Jisung, most often. But if there’s a perk of being a CEO, it’s that your employees know when to respect your personal space, unless there’s an absolute emergency. Relatives call you, your sister calls you ever so often. You hope she doesn’t go into labour with your father still stuck on the hospital bed, but it’s only a small part of her worries, you’re sure. So you assure her about everything being alright and encourage to focus on her pregnancy being perfectly smooth, although Kyungmin Oppa tells you that her mood swings are more distinct now with more things to worry about. The baby kicks for the first time, and you wish you could be there. You don’t want to miss a lot of firsts, but it’s a small tradeoff you don’t mind making.

There’s only one person who doesn’t call you, Wonwoo. He probably knows that you don’t want to be disturbed, but sometimes you have thoughts. Thoughts about how different your life was just a few months ago. Thoughts about how your marriage is due to be annulled as soon as this business ends. Thoughts about whether you should have let Wonwoo ever into your life. Thoughts about how he feels about this entire thing. You know how he’d said he had just wanted to help you, but was it a moment of pity or a calculated decision? Was he actually humane enough to want to do this? You’re unsure, just like you’re unsure about how much you even know him. Sure, you’ve known him for your entire damn life, but not really.

Firstly, there’s the matter of the wedding. The fact that Wonwoo didn’t actually need to be roped in to convince your dad is a surprising issue. You hadn’t expected Appa to be so pliant to your words and your tears, when he had supposedly protested so much in front of Unnie and Eomma. Well, there perhaps was something called a favourite child. Secondly, there’s the concern of what happens now. It’s already been four months since your wedding, and it’s almost mid-December now. You’re 100% sure that Wonwoo will not be interested to drag on this farce for longer than necessary, so you mentally take notes to draft up divorce letters and take them to him as soon as you return to Seoul. Your PR team’s done a fairly good job in hiding the fact that you and Wonwoo have barely spent any time together since the wedding. So it’s not going to take much to silence the media if they raise eyebrows at such a quick divorce. Family will be easy to convince, as well. We just don’t have enough time for a full-on relationship now. We’re focused on our careers, that’s where our priorities lie. Honestly, this was why we were so hesitant about marriage in the first place. See, we told you, we weren't made for this relationship business. If only you hadn’t practically stalked us into it, we wouldn’t have to disappoint you all like this.

And what happens after that?

Do you remain exes who smile at each other at social gatherings? Do you remain fuckbuddies, forgetting about your trash past altogether? Do you become strangers who don’t even bother to remember birthdays?

You’re feeling dizzy, so you pass out on the couch in your hotel room.

It’s New Years’ Eve when you return to Seoul, and nobody can stop the smile on your face from breaking out every three seconds. Your father’s body may still be weak from chemotherapy, and he may have to visit the hospital every other week to get follow-ups on his treatment, but he’s alive and the spark in his eyes haven’t been snuffed out. There’s hope, infinite hope, and you feel whole again. There’s incredible joy blooming in your heart, even if all the trees are barren and all the world is grey. The doctors say that it is a godsent gift, and there can be a relapse, but the chances are low enough to be confident that there’s going to be at least five more years of happy life for your father. For someone who was praying for five more minutes, it’s a harvest too bountiful, and you feel like a person born again.

The happiness lasts the entire journey back home, back into the wide waiting arms of your mother who had never gone to the US because she was too scared of being there. You can see how the stress has taken a toll on her, as her figure seems frailer than before, and there’s no longer than glow radiating off her face. And yet, this gift is more than she, or you could ever have asked for, so you take what you can get. Your father’s organs haven’t failed yet, and he can eat better things than soup, so your mother’s cooked specially for him, although she hasn’t entered the kitchen in years. It’s softly cooked galbi and prawn pajeon, and he devours the meal after months of hospital food. You stay the night at your parent’s home, as your sister comes over along with her husband. It’s a great family reunion, and you feel like you could die in this happiness.

Except reality strikes when you wake up the next morning and realise that you should go to your actual home now. You wonder if he’s going to be at home or not, given that it’s the New Year and he may have plans with others.

But there he is, as you let yourself in through the main door, and he locks eyes with you sitting on the couch, wearing shorts and no shirt, his hair quite wet. Apart from the fact that this is the first time you’ve seen him wear shorts, nothing’s changed. He’s still exactly the same. It’s cold outside, and the journey here has frozen your limbs, but the house is warm as fuck, just how Wonwoo’s always liked it.

You can’t stop yourself. You don’t stop yourself when you run halfway across the living room and hug him without waiting for him to say anything.

To his credit, he doesn’t say anything. He simply hugs you back. His body is so warm in spite of being shirtless, and you can smell the fresh soap clinging to his body. He rubs one hand on your spine and for a second you feel tears threatening to flow down your face. Did you miss him?

“How’s your father?”

“Much better. There is hope.”

You can feel his hands moving more insistently on your back, stretching through all your muscles. It feels comforting in a way you’ve never received from Wonwoo. He doesn’t ask anything else, and you don’t mind.

“Welcome home, Y/N.”

You’re bent over on the floor, unpacking your suitcase in your own room when he casually saunters into his walk-in and you don’t pay heed. It’s only when he walks out wearing a black leather jacket, a turtleneck, a light gold chain dangling on his neck, and fancy sunglasses perched on his nose that you turn around to look at him. You’re shocked at seeing him like this- you realise you haven’t seen him in casuals in so long. You haven’t seen him in so long.

“You’re going out?”

“Yeah, it is the New Year. I have a party with my friends.”

You’re too busy ogling him, so he asks, “Don’t you have plans?”

“Yeah, I’m going to unpack my stuff.”

“You could do that tomorrow. Going out with friends on New Years’ will not happen tomorrow.”

You roll your eyes. You assume I have friends. It shouldn’t be news to him, you’ve told him this before. And yet, you feel embarrassed again. You didn’t know Wonwoo had friends, but it’s wrong of you to think every workaholic has no life like you.

“No. It’s been a tiring few months… I’d rather just sleep in.”

Wonwoo, surprisingly, sits down on your bed, facing you, and removes his sunglasses. You can see his pretty eyes from up close, and you realise that he’s never really sat on this bed since you’ve come to his house. “Do you want to come with me? They’ve been asking about you for quite some time now.” You look at him silently, “Nah, I don’t… don’t want to barge in.” “You won’t be.” “You’ll get late if you wait for me now.” “It’s not a big deal, most of them will be late anyway.” “Are you going to a nightclub?” “No, we’re going to a barbecue party.”

Small, private, cosy. You’ll definitely be barging in.

“No Wonwoo, I don’t want to go somewhere where I’m not welcome. And anyway, I’m cool with whatever you’ve told your friends about us.” “I haven’t said anything in particular.” “Well, then you’re good at avoiding things.” “I am. You must’ve been away too long if you’ve forgotten about this.”

You want to run away. He’s surely talking about avoiding being your husband- and he’s proud about it as well.

“Then you might avoid it further. There’s no need for me to make a public appearance.”

Wonwoo stares at you for a second too long. His jaw hardens, and you can see his tongue in his cheek. Then he gently pulls your hand into his own, and carefully touches your fingers, purposely avoiding the bit around your wedding ring. The way your fingers seem much smaller compared to his makes you feel a certain way. You pull your hand back, but he doesn’t let go. He ends up pulling you up to stand, so that he’s still sitting on the edge of the bed and you’re standing right in front of him. His fingers are still laced around your own, and you feel sparks at the touch after months.

“I’m going to show my wife off to my friends. And your excuses are pathetic, darling. You know you want me to show you off as well.” His fingers tighten their grip against your wrist, and you feel the vein in your wrist throbbing around his touch. “So get dressed nicely. I know you clean up well.”

It takes you a solid ten minutes to find something good to wear. Sure, you’re not big on fashion, but you like to look fit for the occasion. Especially if Wonwoo’s dressed up all fancily like that. But when you finally step out of the closet, you’re wearing a beige corset top with a black skirt, and a long black coat with tiny gold details. You find Wonwoo still sitting on your bed, scrolling through his phone. “How do I look?” you ask at the same time as he raises his head to look at you. After checking you out twice from top to toe, he nods slowly, but before you can exhale in relief, he says, “Will you feel cold in that skirt?” “No. And before you ask, I’m not wearing stockings. The coat will be enough.” “Don’t complain if you get cold later. Come down in five.”

When you’re finally in the car, you ask him if you should buy something for the host, since it is New Years’ afterall. “If we bought something for him, the others will be mad at us for not buying something for them too.” You laugh it off, wondering how that could be possible, and proceed to stop at a nearby store to buy one of the trendy perfumes that’s popular amongst men these days.

You find, not even half an hour later, that it is possible.

“Wonwoongi! You only brought presents for Mingoo? None for hyung? How will hyung survive without your generosity?” A lanky, beautiful man immediately latches himself onto Wonwoo’s arm as soon as you both enter Mingyu’s house. It’s a pretty bungalow situated a little far from the city, and decorated extravagantly with lights. It’s only after Wonwoo makes it through the first few people crowding near the entryway that everybody notices you.

There’s a collective gasp going around when everyone turns around and looks at you, smiles galore. And then they all start speaking together, and you get overwhelmed. Wonwoo shushes them all in an uncharacteristically loud voice, and announces, “Since y’all wanted to meet her, this is Y/L/N Y/N, my wife,” and you bow deeply to everyone as everyone greets you back. When you stand upright again, you stumble a bit, not having noticed the thick carpet, and Wonwoo’s quick to grab your hand. He casually interlocks his fingers with yours, and you both make your way into the apartment.

The first man you meet is Mingyu, the host. You’re shocked to see him, not expecting to see him as the host. So he’s the host. He’s become taller than Wonwoo now, his face still identical to what you remember from high school. It sparks an annoyance in you, as scenes from each sports day of your high school years flashes by. There wasn’t a single time when you hadn’t defeated Mingyu in tennis, badminton and squash. You really loved playing racket sports, and it seemed that so did Mingyu. But not just that- Mingyu’s arrogance was even more childish than that of Wonwoo because he was insanely arrogant about his looks and the number of girls (and boys) thirsting over him every day. Although you hardly met him outside school because he didn’t belong to a chaebol family, you’d actively glare at each other every time you met in school. You wonder what version of these same memories flashed in his mind as you stand in front of him now.

“It’s been a long time, Y/N-ah. Didn’t imagine that you and Wonwoo would end up married.” It’s a genuine smile, and for a moment, you wonder if you’d had the wrong impression about him all along. “We didn’t imagine it either, trust me.” Wonwoo smiles, and it breaks you out of your reverie. You hand Mingyu the gift, and say, “Thank you for extending your invitation to me.” “There’s no need to be so formal, Y/N-ah. But what’s the need for the gift?” “Since I’m visiting you for the first time… as Mrs. Jeon, I felt I shouldn’t come empty-handed.” Mingyu giggles and nudges Wonwoo’s arm, “Mrs Jeon, hmm? Feels like a Hollywood movie. Thanks Y/N, I’ll use it well!”

Then Wonwoo introduces you to the rest of his friend group one by one. You meet Seungcheol, who you remember all too well. “How the tables have turned, huh?” He chuckles, before handing you a glass of wine. There’s a familiarity in his mysterious smile, that twinkling look in his eyes, that elite tilt of his chin, as if he owned the world, which used to annoy the hell out of you, because to you, he seemed to be the stereotype of the worthless chaebol heirs who’d do nothing in their lives except eat out of their parents’ money. And yet, he’s made it big on his own, if news reports are correct, and perhaps you can find some respect for him now. “I hope we get along better this time, Seungcheol Oppa.” He’s the only man from Wonwoo’s high school group who you would call Oppa, and that was only to tease him because he’d been voted as the Sexiest Oppa of the Year at the end of the high school year. Seungcheol seems to remember that too, because he laughs, and you realise it’s a fond memory, no matter how much annoyance it had sparked in you back then.

Then there’s Jeonghan, who’d been that beautiful man who’d spoken to Wonwoo earlier with that aegyo nickname of Wonwoongie. who disarms you instantly with his jokes. Joshua, who’s introduced as the gentleman, but you can see the mischief in his doe-like eyes, much too good-looking for his own good. There’s Soonyoung and Seokmin, who are already playing beer pong, laughing and spilling a lot of the beer on the table (and the carpet, but they implore you to not tell Mingyu that). Seungkwan referees them, while he’s wrapped around his boyfriend, who’s extremely charming and interesting. Vernon and you speak for a good two minutes before Seungkwan interrupts you both and takes you to meet Jun. Jun is sitting on the other side of the room, with his girlfriend, Lihua. She’s also Chinese but speaks fluent Korean, as she’s a teacher in Seoul, as she explains.You find out that Jun is an actor in both Korean and Chinese tv shows, and his visuals explain a lot of it, for sure. Then there’s Minghao, who’s busy discussing Met Gala looks over the years with two women, Soyeon (Jihoon’s fiance) and Aeri (Chan’s girlfriend). Chan and Jihoon themselves are missing, but soon you find them in the kitchen, helping Mingyu and his fiance, Hayi, to make cocktails.

And when the introductions finally end, Wonwoo and you flop down on a couch in one corner, both tired from all that smiling and small talk.

“Are you sighing so loudly because they’re not nice?” He teases you, as he place an arm around the head of the sofa, successfully cradling you without even touching your body. “Wonwoo. I didn’t know you were still close to Seungcheol and Mingyu.” “Hmm… should I have warned you before bringing you here?” You turn your face away from him, “A warning would have been nice. I wasn’t really ready to see Mingyu’s annoying smile again after all those years of his delinquency.” Wonwoo laughs, and you continue, “But I’m curious. What did you tell them about me that they’re welcoming me with open arms? Did you tell them that I’ve completely changed or something?” “No. They had their reservations too, but it’s not like they could do anything. I told them only a day before we got married.” You open your mouth to refute, but quickly become silent. Not for the first time, you wonder, how had Wonwoo adapted into the marriage so quickly in spite of having nothing to gain and everything to lose. It reminds you of the divorce papers you had asked Jisung to prepare, so you don’t say anything.

Jeonghan comes and sits on your other side too. “Oh, we have another person joining our lazy line, I see.” He giggles as you look confused. “Wonwoo, Hao and I are the lazy line. We run out of battery first. We can’t keep up with the other over-energetic boy.” “But the absolute first is Wonwoo, of course. There’s no end to group photos where he’s yawning in all the shots.” Minghao strolls in, grabs Wonwoo by the arm, calling him to the other room where they’re all playing billiards, and then it’s just you and Jeonghan on the sofa.

“So, Y/N, I hear that you and Wonwoo have been friends since school?” You laugh, because he can’t have heard that. You know Jeonghan knows you both have never really been friends. He laughs too, and you realise how easily he’s prodded right into the truth. “It’s complicated,” you say safely, as you get a feeling you can’t hide from this man. “And yet I think you’re perfectly fit to be Mrs Jeon, from what I hear.” You laugh again, because genuinely it is a funny statement. You think he’s making a joke- probably about how you both hated each other’s guts in school, or had an equal temper. But no, he’s all serious and he repeats his statement with more sincerity. You twist your lips in confusion, and ask him, “How can you say that?” “Because I know Wonwoo very well. That’s it.” He then laughs a bit and continues, “They call me the Eomma of the group for a reason, you know. They’re all my kids. Even Cheol and Shua.”

And then Wonwoo calls you both to the barbecue which had begun on the outdoor patio.

The party may have begun awkwardly for you but it soon becomes quite exciting. The temperature continues to fall as it becomes darker in the night sky, but everyone’s gathered around the barbecue grill outside so you don’t want to move. The girls are mostly sitting together, sitting cocktails that Mingyu prepares for you, winking every way until he reaches his fiance who exaggeratedly winks back. You sit sandwiched between Aeri and Wonwoo, and while Wonwoo is busy discussing games with Seungcheol, Aeri doesn’t let you feel isolated. You’re included into the group surprisingly quickly, and soon you’re playing drinking games with them. Games you’ve never played before, so you’re obviously totally incapable at defeating them. They seem to play these every other weekend, while you’ve never even heard of these game rules. The reality sends pangs to your heart because it hits harder than ever that you’ve never had a friend group with who you could drink with. Not even a casual drink. Not even a girls’ night out. Not even a pole dance at a strip club.

“Okay! Let’s play the hongsam game,” Seungkwan shouts out and immediately everyone cheers in agreement. You must be looking confused as hell, because Jihoon quietly leans in to explain the rules simply. Seungkwan and Jihoon show you a small demo, and you nod. You may not have understood fully but you don’t want to hold up others in the game. And so the game goes on for nineteen rounds, and you lose ten of them. You somehow miss the timing every time, or maybe you just don’t know their names well enough. Even Joshua, who messed up the first three times, seems to have caught on, but you’re just stuck. Although they make you feel better about it, laughing with you instead of at you, and reassuring you that it’s okay to make mistakes, you feel embarrassed. It’s not a tough game, just requires hand-eye-brain coordination that you’re sure you’re not lacking in, but perhaps some part of you wants to do better because it’s Wonwoo’s friends you’re playing with, and performing poorly here would mean… well, you don’t know what it would mean, but it doesn’t sit right with you. So you try to be more competitive, and although you keep losing, as the shots go in, it feels less stressful and more fun. You become more familiar with the games, and the S.coups game you’re actually good at, although you have no idea why it’s called the S.coups game and Seungcheol personally makes it a point to threaten anyone who’s about to tell you why it’s called the S.coups game.

And so, as the night goes by, you become more comfortable. Even if it is still a little awkward, it’s not altogether bad. Mingyu and Seungcheol are being nice to you, although a bit wary. The others have positively welcomed you with open arms. And Wonwoo, well, he’s being a little odd. He’s having a hell lot of fun, being much louder than you’ve ever seen him. He seems more reserved than his friends, but then, his friends are too hyper. And while he doesn’t make direct efforts to talk to you, he’s becoming more touchy by the minute. The first few shots in, he was just putting an arm around your shoulders. Next few shots in, his hands are properly rubbing all over your bare arms as he makes you open the coat when you say your body’s getting warm with all the soju. When you feel the buzz of alcohol getting more serious by the second, his right hand, the same one which had held your hand earlier that day, places itself on your thigh and refuses to move. It’s splayed all over your thigh, nearly covering from end to end, and there’s not much skin showing anyway, but with his hand, it feels like you should’ve worn a shorter skirt.

Wonwoo’s favourite game is the mafia one. The game app somehow generates him to be mafia three out of four times, and he has way too much fun killing the innocent citizens who seem to be completely deceived by him. Wonwoo’s too good at lying, you realise, when you’re taken aback each time on finding out he’s the mafia although you’re sitting right next to him. The fifth round, you both are mafias, and after the penultimate round of guessing, when you two are the only mafias left alive and you lock eyes to decide who to kill, you giggle at the way he’s staring you down.

“I say, Soyeon. She’s the closest to guessing me out.” You say seriously, but his eyes aren’t even on your eyes. They’re fixed lower, at your lips, but you panic and shift away from him. Now his eyes look up at yours, confused, but you’re guessing he’s just drunk. He would never behave like this if he were sober.

“I say let’s get out of here. While their eyes are still closed.” He smirks, whispering hotly in front of your face, and you feel red all over.

“Wonwoo! They’re your friends.” “So what? They love you already. They wouldn’t be mad at you for leaving, if that’s what you’re thinking.” “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re having so much fun, why would you want to leave?” “Because I know I could have more fun with you with my face under that skirt of yours.” You’re blushing again. “You don’t want to know the number of times I’ve left fun gatherings like this to fuck you in my car, sweetheart. This time, at least, they’ll understand better.” You blush even harder, with the way he’s speaking. It’s making your heart beat too loudly. You know it’s because you both are drunk, but you’ve never been able to resist it when he talks dirty to you. And now his hand starts squeezing your thigh, so you’re left wondering what it would feel like if his face was under your sk-

“Oh for fucks sake! I know it’s Wonwoo and Y/N with all this whispering, I’m sitting next to y’all, guys!” Aeri whines from next to you, and the moment is broken. Everyone opens their eyes and Wonwoo’s hand stop squeezing, although it’s still on your thigh. “If you’re going to undress each other, just go home!” Chan says, and you laugh. “I’m not leaving the party even if Wonwoo does, just so you know. I’m having way too much fun.” Aeri and Hayi hug you from one end, pulling you away from Wonwoo. “Yes,” says Hayi, “we’re not letting you go either. Boring mafia men can leave if they like.” So they pull you away from Wonwoo and you end up sitting somewhere far away from him, between Joshua and Minghao, and it’s nice to be around people who aren’t game aces either and you can have a lot more fun because they’re not as serious as Wonwoo.

A few seconds later, your phone buzzes in your pocket, so you take it out. There’s a text from Wonwoo.

I wasn’t kidding, Y/N. I really want to get out of here with you.

Twenty minutes later, you’ve bid the last round of goodbyes, hugging Jeonghan and exchanging numbers with most of them, while they whine about why Wonwoo gatekept you for so long. Even Seungcheol and Mingyu joke around you, showing that they’ve become more comfortable around you. Perhaps growing up has taken away some of their jerk attitude from them.

Wonwoo’s already leaning against his car when you walk out of the house. You know he’s drunk with the way his eyes check you out without any filter, and you’re also drunk and out of your inhibitions. You try not to get into your head as he opens the door for you, and you get inside the warm car. Wonwoo joins you in the backseat, and the chauffeur drives you out slowly.

But somehow, being in the car now, away from the dopamine of the party, and the general excitement from having a surprisingly fun evening with strangers, the overthinking does kick in. Wonwoo doesn’t say a word, but his hand has returned on your thigh, and you let it be there. But you can’t help but think, is he finding you attractive only because he’s under the influence?

So you ask him that, when you both get out of the car and he opens the door to the apartment. Drunk, dishevelled Wonwoo looks glorious in the night light, his dark hair falling over his eyes, which are hooded in desire as plain as day. “Are you fucking serious, woman?” That’s all he says, before he pushes you against the back of the same entry door, and puts his hand under your skirt. He finds you panties as an obstruction so he pushes them aside before kissing you and entering one finger inside your cunt simultaneously. You immediately melt under his touch, not just because it’s been months since Wonwoo’s touched you, but also because you’re feeling so relieved he’s still attracted to you. At least the farce hasn’t repelled him away this far.

So you don’t speak any words. You both stay silent except the sounds he forces out of you. You come embarrassingly fast with just two fingers up your vagina, and his mouth creating hickeys all over your neck. “Fuck, Wonwoo, I-” “Shit you’re still coming- your whore pussy’s thanking Sir for taking care of her after so long?” You moan his name harder, your entire body writhing under his touch as he drags out your climax under his touch. “Yes, Sir.” “And what to good girls say in gratitude?” You can barely form the words but you say it, “Thank- thank you, Sir!”

“Where do you wanna take it, hmm? To my bedroom which you’ve taken over? Or my bedroom where you’ve exiled me to?” He picks you up and shrugs off your coat, and you wrap your legs around him, stretching the skirt. “It doesn’t matter.”

So he takes you to the bedroom where he’s sleeping these days. He flunks you on the bed, and you tumble to fall on your face. The sheets smell like him, and you breathe in his scent. You don’t want to sleep anywhere else after this- only next to him, if this is what his bed smells like.

He leans in from behind you, and unhooks your top and skirt, leaving you in your underwear. Your panties are ruined, so he makes quick work of removing them. But he keeps the bra on, and gently slides in under you until your pussy is on his face as he prepares to eat you out from behind. His hands are splayed over your ass, and as soon as his tongue makes contact with your already abused vagina, you scream out his name. But he doesn’t stop- he continues, his tongue harshly fucking your cunt. When he’s done making you orgasm again like that, and you’re done screaming his name into his pillow, he finally moves away from you. You fall limp on the bed, as you hear him take off his clothes. Eventually he cages you from behind, and slowly fills you up from behind, one hand on your neck and the other rubbing your nipple over your bra.

So he fucks you like that, his cold chain makes sparks every time it brushes against your spine. “Sir, please! Faster, please-” Wonwoo doesn’t reply to any of your begging, but he responds physically to everything you say, by doing the exact opposite and dragging out your misery. His hands don’t leave your nipples as he leisurely fucks you. “Fuck, Y/N, not even four months, and you’re tight like a virgin again.” Your hands slip and weakly try to clutch at the bedsheets, but you feel useless, like a toy, and he feels every inch of skin which he’s missed out on all this time. You don’t know what he’s looking like now, but his hand presses your head down on the pillow softly, and his grunts and moans are soft enough to be enveloped by your own louder moans and pants.

“Please, I’m begging you, please- pl- faster- Sir!” And the second he lifts his body away from yours, thrusting into you faster, you spasm and orgasm right there, and it triggers his orgasm too. The warmth of his cum flowing inside you stays there as he gently falls down on your body, panting. When he begins to pull out, you whine, unable to say anything but he gets the message. He lies down next to you softly, without pulling out for a few minutes. When your body finally comes down from the high, you go limp around his body, and Wonwoo gently pulls out.

“I’ll clean you up.” “I’m sleepy…” “Yeah, then sleep.” And then you pass out.

When you wake up the next morning, Wonwoo is, unsurprisingly, not next to you, although his side of the bed is not cold. It feels like an upgrade, and you take what you can get. For the first time since you’ve gotten married, you’ve slept together and the thought of it makes you pleased for some reason.

“Morning,” he walks in, before you can properly wake up. He’s wearing a peach-coloured hoodie with sweatpants, a cup of coffee in his hand. “Is that for me?” “No, I didn’t know if you were up.” “Okay, I’ll go and get my own.”

So you do. You brush your teeth and make your coffee and return to the bedroom, and Wonwoo’s still sitting there, his back leaning against the headboard. For a second, you feel like you’re stepping into someone else’s married life, but then you realise it’s yours. It makes you giddy. You don’t understand why- it’s not like you’ve ever craved for Wonwoo, or anyone, in this way. But somehow, you’ve warmed up well to the idea of having him as your … partner. There’s nobody who could be an equal match to you, to be honest. Either they’d be seriously less intelligent and you would be able to hold no conversation with them, or they’d be arrogant as fuck if they were smarter than you, and they’d make it a point to make you feel lesser, always. So Wonwoo is the perfect match for you.

Although, Wonwoo could surely find someone better. Jeonghan’s words float in your brain once again, and you fight the urge to contradict him. Mrs Jeon could definitely be someone else- someone who’s less distant from Wonwoo, someone he could love truly deeper than just skin-level attraction, someone who would want to be with him for real feelings and not just a facade.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about, Wonwoo.”

“Yeah, me too.” You both sit against the headboard, bodies far apart, as if repelled again by magnetic force, no matter how close you were last night.

“Okay, you go first then.”

So he says, “Last night was… a mistake. I know it sounds cliche, but it’s true. I don’t… want to do this with you.”

Oh fuck. You did not see that coming. Sure, the relationship could have been a mistake. Getting married without him getting anything out of it could have been a mistake. Continuing this marriage after your dad’s treatment was successful could have been a mistake. But last night? Last night had felt so right to you. There was no one who knew your body like Wonwoo did, and you knew it went the other way round too. Then how could he say that?

He continues, “I don’t want to be fuckbuddies with you like this, Y/N. We got married for a goal, and now that goal’s been fulfilled and…”

“And you want a divorce. I get it.”

He looks at you with confusion, his eyes wide and his eyebrows furrowed. “No, that’s not what I said.”

“That’s what you meant. I’m an adult, Wonwoo, don’t teach me nuances.” You get off the bed and walk away.

“Y/N, you’ve got to hear me out when I’m saying something.”

“Wonwoo, I already know what you’re trying to say.”

“Fuck you, Y/N. This is why it’s not possible to have a proper conversation with you.”

“You’ll get what you want, Wonwoo. Don’t worry. Thanks for telling me, I needed to know.”

It feels good to get back to work after so long. The familiar sound of people typing away on their laptops and the busy movement of people everywhere, it brings peace to your heart. There are people hovering around you, hoping to speak to you, but Jisung somehow brings you to your office without you having to say anything more than good morning and happy new year to anyone.

It’s only when you enter the office and you see the pending paperwork that you realise just how much you’ve missed. There’s a deal with Lee Corp. that’s sitting on your desk, and Jisung presents it to you with a proud smile. “We got it done, Ma’am. Every detail you wanted, to the t.” You don’t know how to respond, because it’s unbelievable. “But how?” This is your dream- signing a contract with Lee Corp., the leading organisation for facilitating stools for robotic surgery in Korea. Although your technology has always been more modern, they’ve retained their large market share because of simply how long they’ve sustained in the business- after all, when it comes to health, trust comes before modernity for customers.

“Jeon Wonwoo-ssi set up the deal for us. The Deputy CEO and myself attended the meeting, I can share the minutes with-”

“Wait, stop. Wonwoo, you said?”

“Yes Ma’am, I… did he not tell you? He told me he’d tell you.” Jisung looks genuinely confused, so you know it’s futile to investigate him further.

“Well, as you can see, it’s news to me.”

“There is a meeting today, at noon, Ma’am, I need to brief you about the details before you-”

“I’ll get the details directly from Wonwoo, thanks Jisung. Ask my chauffeur to get my car ready please. I’ll be back before the meeting.”

Wonwoo’s office building is bustling with the same energy as your own, and you face no trouble finding his office. So you walk right in.

“What’s this I’m hearing?” He’s standing next to a shorter man showing him something on a tablet, but he immediately leaves when he sees you, bowing quickly. “I was busy, Y/N, you can’t just walk in like that as if you own the place.” He walks up to you, and gently closes the door, before leaning against it and asking you, in that fucking relaxed expression he always has, “What’s the matter?”

“You fixed a deal with Lee Corp. for my company?”

“What about it?”

“And you didn’t bother to tell me?”

“I thought it was best not to disturb you when you were busy with your father.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief. “Wonwoo, this is literally the most important event that can turn my career around forever, and you choose not to tell me-”

“So you’d rather I invade your privacy for this? I’d arranged it so that it would be closed only after your return anyway, so it’s not like-”

“It’s exactly like you were making deals behind my back! God knows what subscript you’ve mentioned in the clauses with the Lees- yeah, step one: get into a trusting contract with Y/N, step two: slowly overtake all her market power, step three: make the company so weak that Jeon Estates can easily take over.”

You’ve taken a step closer with every word, and now you’re standing at a hair’s distance from Wonwoo, who’s just staring at you. “For god’s sake, Jeon Wonwoo, say something!”

And then, he fucking laughs. It’s a bitter laugh, one with no mirth, and it makes goosebumps rise on your flesh.

“You’re mad, Y/N. You’re paranoid, stupid, ungrateful, selfish little bitch, and I can’t even be mad at you because I knew this is how you’ve been all along and yet, I can’t fucking stop myself from falling in love with you every damn day!”

It’s your turn to go speechless. The documents in your hands fall limply to the floor, as your jaw opens and you stay rooted in one spot, stunned beyond belief. “You… what?”

“You were so fucking right every time you called me a dumbass, Y/N. Because I am one.” He laughs again, taking off his glasses with one hand, and rubbing his eyes with another. Then he stops laughing and when he wears his glasses again, his face looks twenty years older.

“Wonwoo… I’m not understanding.”

“You will never understand. Because you don’t have a fucking heart. One would think I have a masochism kink- the way you kick me out every day and I come back to you like a dog. Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t want to take over your company? I’ve told you before- I have enough ways and means to bring you down already had I really wanted to. For fucks’ sake, it’d take a minute for me to destroy your reputation by spreading a rumour about how you wanted to bang me just because you thought it was a great way to get your dad to get into treatment.”

“You still could-”

“I’ve never taken advantage of you- never. I’ve respected you, with as much as I could. When you’ve been petty, when you’ve been oversmart, when you’ve been angry. And you think I’m really interested in destroying you? No, Y/N, if there’s anything I feel towards you and your professional career, it’s admiration. And respect.”

“Don’t lie to my face, Jeon.”

He laughs again, and kneels down so that he’s looking away from you, down at the floor, his body no longer held up in his usual manly stature.

“I’m so tired of running around and playing these games with you, Y/N. I’ve admired you since you’d been promoted two classes at once in ninth grade.”

“That is a lie. You’d gone right after that class to bitch about me, very loudly, to your friends, about how I’d been promoted only because my dad’s business was flourishing.”

“It was a front, because all of my friends, and mind you, I don’t mean Mingyu and Seungcheol, had become pissed at you for it. I had to… I don’t know… be popular? I couldn’t be any more of a loser than I already was. I’d lost a year as it is for breaking my leg and not being able to attend classes, and then… owning up that your intelligence and intellect amazed me and got me on my fucking knees would mean I’d no longer be the cool boy in class who everybody wanted to be with.”

You kneel down next to him, imploring him to look into your eyes. But he steadfastly avoids eye contact- and you feel the floor slip away from your feet. Things you’d believed for years… hearing them become untrue… hearing them being simple misunderstandings… it was too frightening and too overwhelming to be believable.

“But there’s not been a moment these last dozen years when I’ve not had my heart beat fast whenever I think about you… see you. I’d accepted your harsh words and your cold attitude as the norm because… I knew it was because I’d not behaved very nicely with you either, and I was to be blamed for it after all. But I took what I could get. A beggar cannot be a chooser, you know?”

And he finally looks at you.

And finally you can read Jeon Wonwoo. Every expression is as clear as day on his face. His eyes clouded with betrayal and pain, his lips twitching, seconds away from breaking down, his hands pale and trembling. You want to walk away, be a coward again, run away and escape to your bubble of yourself and only yourself. But you also want to take his hand, and feel the truth he’s speaking coursing through his veins buzz out into your own skin.

So you do that.

For once in twenty six years, you do the brave thing.

You sit down completely on the floor, and you lean forward to face him, and touch the tips of his fingers. You’re surrounded by the flurry of papers you’d brought to him, but in this moment, when the current of his touch matches the voltage running in your mind, you forget what they were. He looks away, and says, “Everything about you was so electrifying. You were the first woman who had never pedestalized me for my money and my position in society. The first woman who’d made me feel like just another human being. The first woman who I’d been unable to seduce with just a casual look. The first woman who threw a challenge at me with not just her attitude but also her smartness. And boy, you know how competitive I can be.”

“I was okay with being fuckbuddies too, you know. This way, I didn’t have to pine over you from a corner of the room at social gatherings and wonder how you smelt. I didn’t have to look at you from the other side of the cafeteria at school and imagine how it would feel to kiss the cream off the corner of your lips. And I fucking loved it. I loved being able to hold you close, make you mine. I- well… the first night you’d hooked up with me? If you’d not come back to me yourself, I would have begged you and confessed that very night. I would have cried at your feet to let me be your lover.”

There’s a single tear falling off his cheek and onto the point where your fingers touch. He doesn’t look at you. The sky outside darkens with the impending rain, making the room infinitely darker than it was earlier.

“And then… when you’d asked me to stop… the world had broken down on me. I’d given up on making you want to like me- but,” and he laughs again, that broken, mirthless laugh, “a man can dream, can he not?”

“Wonwoo, I’m sorry.” you whisper. You know it’s pointless, but you still want to say it.

“For what Y/N? You’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve just shown me my place.”

“For hurting you. I didn’t know…”

“No you… you didn’t even know you were hurting me. You were just being you.”

“And it’s sick that I hurt you so much when I was just being myself.”

There’s a long minute of silence, as he looks up at you. Lightning cracks on the horizon outside, your body shivering with the sudden sound of thunder, and his hands withdraw from your own.

“Y/N, I don’t want to interfere in your life any longer. I’ve lived happily this last year, being so close to you, even when I knew it wasn’t in the way I wanted. But last night…”

“Wonwoo. I-”

“It was a mistake because I can’t do this so casually anymore, Y/N. I don’t want to wake up next to you just like that, Y/N. I don’t want to be married to you on paper, Y/N. I don’t want to pretend in front of my friends and not make you mine in public. Seungcheol and Mingyu accepted you fully… because they knew just how smitten I’ve been with you forever.” The edge of his lips tilt upward in a lopsided, winsome smile, as he continues, “That day in the amusement park? You’d been so mad at me for no fault of mine at all, but you’d been so cute when you’d lolled all over my shoulder and clutched onto my clothes for your dear life. That time you’d made your first speech as your father’s heir to the company, I swear I could’ve run to you and kissed you right there, you’d been so hot up on stage, in the spotlight, right where you belong.”

He starts standing up, looking away from you. He begins picking up the first paper next to him.

“Oh, you bought the divorce papers.”

You spring up to attention at once, and snatch it away from him. “Wonwoo, I-”

“No, thanks for bringing them. Thank you for putting me out of my misery of this awful mirage called hope.”

“No, please, I-”

“I see you’ve already signed-”

“Wonwoo! Just please listen to me?”

He finally pauses in his tracks and looks at you. “You’ve said enough, Y/N-ah. You’ll get the divorce you so want. And if you like, I’ll ask Jihoon to put in a word to take away the deal as well. If you feel so threatened-”

“Wonwoo, hold up. Jihoon?”

“Yeah? You didn’t know? His cousin is the CEO of Lee Corp. currently.”

He picks up a pen to sign, and you literally lunge yourself on his body. It’s cinematic, a little unreal, but you do it out of desperation. It results in you being draped all over his body, as he falls back on his desk. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Shut up. Let me talk,” and you clamp a hand on his mouth before he can say another word. You take a deep breath, as his eyes widen for a second, but then he stabilises himself on his desk and waits for you to continue.

“I’ll admit it, I’ve been an awful person. I’ve been mean, selfish, and paranoid- and yes, while I may have been justified to some extent, I … should’ve trusted you. It’s absurd though- had I not trusted you at all, how could I ever submit to you even in sex? How could I trust you with my body at my weakest, most out-of-control moments? Perhaps, deep down, I knew that, no matter how much we sparred with our words and our eyes, we… you would never harm me. And I think you know I wouldn’t have harmed you either, really. Because you’ve been nothing if not my twin spirit. You’ve been the only person competitive enough to challenge me. You’ve been the only man who hasn’t given me up even when I threw tantrums. And I want to stop talking in the past tense. Even in the future, I see… I see you as the only man who’d ever really understand me. If I tell you I need a week to just cut off from the world and focus on my work, you’d understand me. If I tell you, Wonwoo, I… well fuck it, I didn’t even need to tell you that I don’t like being lonely every New Years’ Eve, did I? You agreed to be my ally when our families turned against us. You agreed to be my husband when I hadn’t even asked you about it. You’ve… you’ve shown me that a world beyond me exists, you’ve shown me that I’m not the only person in this world I can care about, and you’ve shown me that you don’t need to be loud and obvious when you want to do things for others. And I haven’t even shown gratitude for it. So you’re right when you call me a paranoid, stupid, ungrateful, selfish little bitch.” He shakes his head, but you only laugh a little. “No you’re right. You are. Wonwoo, I… these last few weeks. When I was away, with my dad? I didn’t think it was love but… I did think it was longing. I didn’t even know when I’d gotten used to not living alone at home. I didn’t even know when I’d developed the habit of waiting till 10 pm to see you enter the house after working out, sweaty and your muscles bulging. I’d told you I had become dependent on you as a way to relieve my stress? Well, turns out now I’ve become dependent on you for attention, for affection, for a way to cure my loneliness. I am a paranoid, stupid, ungrateful, selfish little bitch because I’ve been so lonely for years. Apart from my parents and my sister, I… I’ve never had anyone else. And I thought it was a strength of mine … until I grew up and realised just how lonely I had become. And then… I found you, I guess? Even when we just had sex, it was better than spending all those nights alone, drinking on my own. Even when you’d tie me up to your bedpost for hours on that stupid yellow vibrator of yours, it was more intimate than anything else, and simply because… you even read my face and understood when I was reaching my boundaries. And I’m having all these epiphanies right now, and I feel like a fool for priding myself on my smartness, because truly, what have I gained if I’ve lost you?”

And then, he wrings his hands free and leans over you, and kisses you. Kisses you with his mouth open, his eyes on yours as he gauges your expressions turn from surprise, to wonder, to thrill. When he’s finally kissed you out of breath, you pull away from him to breathe in and feel alive again, only to find that the roles have switched and he’s got you pinned against his desk now.

“Baby, if only… if only I’d known, that your pretty mind was having so many epiphanies, I’d have not left you on the bed alone in the morning. Tell me you don’t really want the divorce, tell me what you said right now was not a joke?”

“It’s not… I don’t want a divorce, please Wonwoo. I had only got them prepared because I thought you’d want them- but…”

“Well, I deserve to be treated like a shithead for not making you feel just how badly I want to hold on to this marriage. Because even if it is fake…”

“Wonwoo, shh… it’s not fake if I love you, right?” You say, experimentally, hoping you’re doing the right thing now by being brave, and when he doesn’t reply for a second, your brain goes on a spiral again, but then he must know it because he kisses you again. “Say that again, princess.” So you do. He asks you three more times, and each time, he punctuates his sentences with kisses on your face, and you blush harder each time you admit that yes, you have fallen in love with Jeon Wonwoo. The last person you’d expect to fall for… but it’s true, and it’s real, and it’s warm and novel with how it’s coursing through your veins.

“I love you too, Y/N, if you’ll really have me.” So you kiss him back, your tongues lazily sliding against each other, the sensation making you numb. It feels good to kiss Wonwoo, but it feels even better to kiss your lover Wonwoo, you realise, and you go back for a million more kisses, before the grandfather’s clock in his room rings out and reminds you that it is noon.

“Wonwoo… Fuck! I’d forgotten,” you whisper as he kisses you down your neck, lavishing every inch of your skin. “The meeting with the Lees!” “Oh.” He looks up at you. “I’ll call Jihoon and ask him to reschedule. Can’t let work get in the way of pleasure, right now, Mrs. Jeon. Not when I can finally make love to you like you’re mine.” You giggle at his words, unimaginably corny. But you can’t deny how good it makes you feel. “Wait, who said I’m yours?” “Fuck, don’t mess with me, woman. You- you just said!” “I am, relax! It’s a joke, Mr. Jeon. I see your cheesiness has changed now… but your sense of humour is just as poor as before.” He snarls against your lips, although it’s sexy in a way. “I’ll not let you go for comments like that, you know?”

So he doesn’t. He calls Jihoon and reschedules the meeting, and then he drives you home, in his car. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, his hand wrapped in yours, as he pauses at every red light to kiss you. “I still can't believe it.” “You’ve got me here, Jeon. I’m not going away.” You can see the way his hands tremble, but you hold on tight. You’re telling him as much as you’re telling yourself, you’re never going away.

It’s still raining outside, but he covers your head with his blazer as he picks you up and carries you all the way upstairs to his apartment, doesn’t even lower you in the elevator. Thankfully there’s only an ahjumma inside the elevator, who doesn’t seem to mind, only giggles when you apologise. “It’s okay. I know how lovesick men can be,” she says, before she gets down at her designated floor.

And then he doesn’t stop kissing you. He doesn’t leave your mouth even when the elevator door opens and you both walk out into your apartment. He doesn’t leave your mouth when you shrug off your heels and he takes off his own shoes. He doesn’t leave your mouth when he directly takes you all the way to the master bedroom, and just plops you down on the bed, you nearly springing up with the impact.

“Wonwoo?” You ask when he turns away and walks into the closet, only to return with a box that’s too familiar to you. It has all your toys in it. “Do you know, Mrs. Jeon, just how cruel you’ve been by forcing me to see these every time I open the drawer to take out my underwear? He opens it slowly, showing you the three dildos inside, and the bullet vibrator Wonwoo himself had bought for you. “Every time I see them, it feels like you’re cheating on me, because fuck, how can anything give you pleasure when I literally exist?” His words are cheesy again, but in that dirty way which is so on brand for him. You’re leaking under the suit pants already, you know that.

“Wonwoo… I… you know I don’t use them when you’re around.”

“And you shouldn’t have to use them ever. Not when I’m here to fuck you good like you deserve, like the cumslut you are, hmm?” He presses a finger under your chin, taking in a good look at you from above, before he orders, “Strip.”

So you do. He takes his sweet time watching you strip, while taking out one dildo from your box and his favourite ties. When you’re down to your underwear, he pauses you and extends a hand waiting for something. You know what’s coming, so you just extend your hands to him and let him tie you up. He smirks at your gesture, so he ties you up the poles of the bed. He also uses another tie to wrap around your eyes, and then he gently peels off your panties. “God, fuck. You smell heavenly.” Did he just sniff your underwear? “Wonwoo! Don’t!” There’s a sharp spank on your pussy, exposed to him in its wet glory, and you crumble instantly. “Little baby girls don’t tell Sir what to do and what not to do, hmm? They just take it as they’re given.” So he spanks you again, and it sends shivers through your body. Just the thought of fucking in the broad daylight seems like a sin, but then… isn’t this what married couples do?

You realise that Wonwoo’s seated himself next to you, and he’s gently taken your head into his lap. His hand is already playing with your clit, and you feel something cold and liquidy being rubbed over your pussy flesh. Lube? He’s still fully dressed, and you can feel the cold metal of his watch graze against your sensitive thigh, making you hiss in pleasure.

“It’s been far too long since you’ve been taught a lesson, darling. Seems like getting married has made you feel like you’re beyond Sir’s control. But that’s not how it goes, is it?” You whisper out, “No… No Sir.” “Good girl. If you want to be treated like you’re married, then you’ve gotta earn it, yes? Now. Can you take one finger?” He inserts his finger gently, which is coated in the cold substance you’re assuming is lube. It isn’t really necessary, given how wet you are already, but it feels hotter when the lube is so cold inside you.

You nod. “Words.” “Yes, I can.” So he slowly pumps it in, before saying, “Can you take two fingers?” You whimper as he stretches you by putting in two fingers. “Yes Sir.” “That’s a good girl.” The praise is making your head spin.

“And can you take-” he puts in another damn finger, “three fingers?” Now it’s a real burn. It’s in till his knuckles all too quickly but you can’t say no because you want to please. “Quick, princess. Don’t keep me waiting. Yes or n-” “Yes! I can. I will. I’m a good girl, Sir?” He pumps all three fingers deep until it hits your spot, and you scream out his name. “Such a good girl. Now fuck yourself on those fingers thinking that’s Sir’s cock.”

You push up your hips, and he thrusts in, meeting your halfway. And then he sets the pace, as he fucks into you relentlessly, his other hand gently wrapping around your jaw and you take out your tongue, almost drooling, until he puts a finger inside your mouth too. You just know he’s smirking right now, with you being desperate for something in your mouth too, but you can’t care less.

Your orgasm hits you as soon as he orders gently, “Cum for me, pretty baby.” But when you come down from your high, he doesn’t take his fingers out. He gently pumps in your cum into your system again, and you writhe with sensitivity. But he uses his other hand to stop you, as he takes it out of your mouth. “Now, can you take a dildo along with these fingers?” You gasp, because it’s not imaginable. “No, I… it’s too much, Sir.” “Is it? I don’t think it’s bigger than your husband’s dick, is it?” And fuck, you can’t stop yourself from clenching at that. It’s crazy how hot he makes it sound, but it feels amazing when he calls himself your husband. And he must feel your cunt clenching around his fingers as well, because he whispers near your ear, “Oh Mrs Jeon likes that, huh? Too bad she can’t take her husband’s cock then, because it’s too much-” “No I can take it! I can- I can fit in my husband’s cock.” You can hear the way Wonwoo grunts, as he plunges his fingers deeper into your cunt. “But first, I’ve got to train you, yes? You’ve become too unruly. You want to be the perfect wife, don’t you?” “Fuck!” you can’t form words as you clench around his fingers hopelessly, overstimulation forgotten, and buck up your hips to help him reach your spot. He just laughs and begins fucking you again, all three of his thick fingers snugly fit inside you till the knuckles.

“Can you feel my wedding ring inside, baby?” He whispers again, and you cry out his name continuously as he drives you to a new high, so familiar, and yet so new. He’s your husband now, fuck. It’s a revelation that hits harder in the middle of sex, and you come instantly, coating his fingers with your essence.

“Oh, my cockslut’s eager to please her husband, is she? So eager to be the perfect wife, is she?”

“Yes, yes! Please- pl- I just want-”

“Want?”

“Please fuck me Wonwoo!”

He immediately removes his fingers from your pussy and you scream out as you feel empty. “Aaah! Please!”

“I’m not making any girl who’s forgotten rules in the bedroom, feel good.” He takes off the tie that was wrapped around your eyes, and you notice that he’s not leaning down at you, his glasses still on, but his eyes dark with hunger. God, he’s hot.

“I’m sorry Sir.”

There’s a sharp spank to your clit, and you jump. It’s too much, but in the best way possible.

“I’ll ask you again. Can you take three fingers and one of those dildos you love so much that you torture your husband with its sight every day?” He doesn’t break eye contact, and you whimper in front of him, pathetic and desperate.

“Yes, Sir. I can.”

“Open your mouth.”

Wordlessly, you do, and he spits into your mouth. Then he puts in the dildo. As you see the purple dildo, which is considerably slimmer than Wonwoo’s dick, but about the same length, enter your pussy, you notice how much Wonwoo’s gaze has hardened. Is he really jealous of that damn toy? It’s funny, so you buck your hips up to meet the way he’s slowly fucking you with the plastic dildo, and his eyes become more dangerous.

“Are you that desperate for it, darling?”

“I want to feel full, Sir.”

And then something in Wonwoo snaps. He wraps three fingers around the head of the dildo and along with the fingers, he plunges the dildo into you, stretching you out much more than before. The burn eases out after a second, but he fucks you at an incredibly slow pace, which only makes you eager for more. “Faster, please!” “You want me to fuck you with this plastic toy how I fuck you with my cock?” “Yes! I d- I do! I just want to feel full!” Then his other hand finds its way to your tits and twists a nipple hard enough to make it painful. “You’re such a whore, Y/N. Just a pretty whore. You’d take any cock just to keep your holes filled?” “No! I … I only like it when Sir does it for me.” “Liar. Just now you’re so happy to take this dildo, huh?” You can’t even think straight with the pace he’s torturing you at, but you do reply, “That’s- aah! Only- only because Sir’s fucking me with it. Because I can feel your wedding ring inside me, Sir!”

“Fuck!” There’s another sharp pinch at your nipple before Wonwoo begins fucking you faster, and it only takes you a minute before he’s bringing you to yet another high which leaves you dizzy.

“God, you’re left speechless. Does Mr Jeon fuck you that good?” He leans it to kiss you, his wet fingers now wrapped around your breasts. You can feel the way your cum still sticks on his fingers, but it feels too good to be gross. You kiss him back, arching your back off the bed, until he pulls away.

He stands up from the bed, and languidly takes off his clothes. “So pretty like this, princess. Legs all spread out for who?”

“You, Wonwoo. My husband.”

He stops his movements and stares at you for a second. It seems like calling him husband has the same effect on him as the effect on you when he calls you wife. “Yes, you’re right. Your husband.” He sits next to you to kiss you again and this time, you try to sit upright, in spite of your hands still being tied. When he breaks off, he says, “So let me train you to be my wife, hmm? I want to fuck you so good that your pussy shapes itself around me. That you won’t even need prep when I want to fuck you because it’ll be so used to me.” Oh, no wonder for that size training. “Why? Does your cock get bigger now that you’re my husband?” He smirks, eyes cruel because you’re talking back to him. “No, because I need to fit in perfectly to ensure none of my seed leaves you when I’m breeding you.” And then he attacks your neck, and you’re moaning even before his lips hit skin because his words flip some switches in you that you’ve never even known. Sure, Wonwoo’s always fucked you raw because you’ve been on pills for years, but the idea of him breeding a child into you? Fuck. You’d never even thought about having a child, but this idea turns you on remarkably insanely.

Soon his shirt is off and he unties your hands. “Take off my pants for me, baby.” And you do. You tease him a bit, but that’s only fair with how hard he’s sucking your breasts, as if he’s born to do this. Before taking off his boxers, you notice the precum that’s leaking out so much that it’s made the fabric quite wet. So you lick his dick clean while it’s still inside his boxers, and you’ve got him hissing and grunting like never before. “Fuck, Y/N, don’t,” he pulls your head away. “Why?” He must notice the way his precum is still sticking on your lips, because he groans again. “I want to cum inside you. Breed you full, baby.” That puts a shy smile on your face as he takes off his underwear, and you finally see his cock upright, leaking and bright red. And perhaps you’re delusional after all those orgasms, but it does seem bigger than before.

“Please, Mr Jeon, take me.” And he responds to your begging. He kisses you softly, as he lines himself up with you, his left hand still pulling your hands up above your head, and your right hand clutching your hips in an iron grip that will leave marks. And then he just enters, without warning, till the hilt, and you both moan out at the sensation. You don’t know why it feels different, but with how he’s kissing you, almost softly and gently, like he’s a gentleman, while fucking you ruthlessly like he’s in rut, you’re in heaven for sure.

It’s also the first time Wonwoo is so audible during sex. He’s panting and moaning, although much softer than you, but his sounds spur you on even harder. He can’t stop whispering your name and other pet names in your ears, while you keep moaning his name loud even to burst his eardrums. He doesn’t care. He responds to every word you utter, every little request you beg, and he fucks you fast and hard, until he can’t hold on any further and his entire body is trembling with the incoming orgasm. “Mrs Jeon, can you cum with me?” “Yes, please, Sir.” And so you do, releasing into each other while still making out with each other. It feels like you’ve entered a different dimension of pleasure, and Wonwoo is here with you. It’s a safe feeling beyond description, and you pass out right there.

When you do wake up, you find Wonwoo sitting next to you with a cloth in his hands, wiping gently at your legs.

“How long have I been out?”

“About ten minutes?”

He doesn’t answer smoothly. You can see the way his hands move softly, almost worshipping.

“I love you, Wonwoo.”

Then he looks up at you, and you see the way his eyes are quivering.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” “Nothing.” “No, tell me.” “Nothing just-” You sit up, and take his hands in your own. Then you nod at him, gently urging him on.

“Was it too much?”

“Huh?”

“Did I push you too much?”

“No. I would’ve used my safeword if you did.”

“But what if you forgot the safeword in the middle of it all- what if you got too pushed by me-”

“I wasn’t, and that’s what matters. I remember it all the time, Wonwoo, you… the traffic lights aren’t really easy to forget. I would tap out somehow if I felt like too much. But it wasn’t, so where’s this coming from?”

“Nothing… I… I hope you’re not just taking it from me because I’m your husband now.”

And at that, you laugh. “Hell, nah, Wonwoo. You know I wouldn’t take it from you even if you were god. You’ve really got me all wrong, then.”

He smiles weakly, and you know it’s still on his mind. So you move over to sit gently on his lap. “Wonwoo, when I said earlier that you know my limits. I wasn’t lying, you know. You do. You don’t push me too much.”

“But if I ever do-”

“If you ever do, you should know that I’ll tap out at once and never forgive you. You always make me feel safe, Wonwoo.” And you hug him, and the fact that you’re both naked makes your hug even warmer and softer as you feel Wonwoo’s hands wrap around your back as well.

“I love you too, Y/N. I promise I’ll always keep you safe.” And then he kisses your forehead, and you snuggle your face right into the crook of his neck. He smells… like Wonwoo, and it feels like home.

“Now, how about some lunch, baby?”

“You’re hungry when I had to do all the work?” You gasp while still tucked into his neck, and he giggles with the way your breath tickles his neck.

“So what does my pretty wife want?”

“She just wants to cuddle you and sleep.”

“And my wife’s wishes are my commands.”

So he lays down, with you still on top of him like a koala, and pulls the blankets over you both, wrapping you into one tiny ball. You look at him with a fond smile, and you see your expression mirrored in his. “I love you so much, Y/N-ah.”

“And I love you, Wonwoo. I could love nobody else apart from you.”

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vinelark · 2 days

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what r some fics that shaped your psyche? you have so many good recs im currently rereading the to an athlete dying young series

hello! you sent me this ask ages ago and i've been meaning to get to it ever since. (it took me so long to answer that i'm sure you've reread to an athlete dying young by @sonosvegliato many times over by now but hell yeah, what a good one.)

these are a few fics--dc and beyond--that have been in my "in case of emergency" epub folder (aka fics i want to have on hand immediately to reread on bad days, or good days, or even average days) for a few years now. so here is an extremely incomplete list of fics that have shaped my psyche!

for dc specifically--if i tried to list all of them i would just end up repeating my whole fic rec tag, so these are just a few of the ones i read when i was getting into this fandom that stayed with me/made me want to seek out more for these characters:

📸 surveillance series by @smilebackwards

this series located the tim drake center of my brain and lit it up like the vegas strip.

🎒 like a hinge, like a wing by @bonesbuckleup

one of my go-to rereads for pangs; chapter one is a masterclass in tension. also, one of my favorite pre-robin tim pov fics of all time.

💻 nominal by @unpretty

"you don't get it, batman is a comedy" --conversation i've had with multiple people using this fic as my thesis statement.

🌃 the jingle jangle morning by @audreycritter

the moment somebody in my vicinity says "i love dick grayson" i'm on their doorstep with this fic url.

🚉 a meditation on railroading by @eggmacguffin

there's a moment in this fic known among my friends as "baby wipes jason" and it has successfully converted no less than three people to the fandom.

and then for non-dc fic:

🌌 atlas by @megafaunatic (mdzs & tgcf)

did i read this before i had a single clue who the characters were? yes. did i return to it once i did and lose my mind a little? yes. lore etymologyplayground writes that “so so so in love and pining so hard the lines between us are blurring and we haven’t made a move yet but it’s inevitable” flavor with such a deft hand; it is in fact called the lorezone. if any friends-to-lovers pining i write can achieve even 50% of a lorezone i will have done my job.

🪿 If they caught you by @feyburner (tgcf)

i go back to this when i think about setup and payoff, when i think about subtle misdirects, when i think about the monumental task of creating whole compelling new characters in 6k words.

🧪 away childish things by lettered (hp)

one of the best de-aging trope stories i've ever read; i think of this when i want to take a trope to its maximum potential and then go: no wait, there's even more.

(another fav de-aging fic is grow by @cafecliche; shorter plot but no less pangs 🌱)

🏡 in defiance of all geometry by @idiopath-fic-smile (les mis)

a fic that's a perfect reread when i need something cozy and full of character, and a perfect touchstone when i'm pondering something where the world may not hang in the balance but the stakes still matter.

📔 The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (cql/mdzs)

paragon of metahumor, basically. i think of this when i want to write something that's funny in both text and form.

🍚 and his wanting grows teeth by @yuebings (cql/mdzs)

masterclass in pangy backstory reveal; the way the first scene loops back around to punch you in the gut long after you've forgotten it will forever be seared into my brain.

also, most answers on this list fit the bill!

(apologies again that this answer is so belated; it took me ages to write up partially because i kept stopping to reread these fics every time i tried.)

#also sorry for not having any consistent formatting in my reclists #i tagged authors whose tumblrs i know/are linked to ao3! happy to remove the tag if anyone prefers #fic rec #asks #batfam

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aettuddae · 2 days

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business matter — chapter 36.

↳ synopsis: two of the most important kpop companies covet a partnership with a huge global brand, only to be surprised when the deal is extended to both labels. fearing potential sabotage and cynical strategies to secure exclusivity for just one of them, both CEOs resort to desperate measures. in a bid to maintain trust and prevent betrayal before the signing, they come up with a pact: forcing a fake relationship between the leaders of their star girlgroups. if one side attempted to fail the other, they threaten to expose it all to the conservative south korea.

masterlist | prev | next

[written chapter]

the intercom signal was activated, and on the screen installed in the kitchen of serim's apartment, you could see karina and her manager carrying some bags. the resident of the place took a large amount of air and let it out slowly, trying to calm herself instead of succumbing to the stress she was feeling. she approached the device and pressed the button that opened the entrance door to the building. she leaned against the kitchen counter as she waited for the knock on the door to indicate that they had arrived and a few minutes later, she heard it.

serim walked to the entrance of her apartment and opened the door, revealing her co-worker and her companion. she stepped aside without saying anything, giving them way.

"why on earth do you have so many plants?" the aespa leader screeched in a high-pitched, stressed tone, as she dropped her belongings to the floor after taking an overall look at the place.

"now are you also going to be bothered by what i have in my own house?" serim furrowed her eyebrows in frustration.

"this is not a house, it's a jungle." karina refuted, glancing at her with an exhausted and serious face.

the eldest crossed her arms, remaining silent as she considered the atmosphere too delicate to start an argument. karina quickly turned to talk to her manager, who finally ended up saying goodbye, leaving her with the instruction to call if she needed anything.

"so..." the newcomer spoke again once the door behind her closed, leaving the two musicians alone in the room. "do you have beds here or do you sleep on a huge leaf?" she asked, laden with sarcasm but showing no emotion on her face.

"come." serim ordered, exhausted, and moved ahead of the guest.

karina bent down, ready to grab the backpacks of clothes she had brought. there weren't many, since she didn't expect to spend much time there, but they were still enough to require two trips, which she didn't feel like making. she planned to take all her things and improvise a way to get them to the room.

however, before she could take anything, serim's hands entered her field of vision and took three of the bags she had brought, leaving only one for her to carry. she didn't say a word about it and turned to continue leading the way. karina watched her walk away with a curious expression but dismissed it and took her clothes to follow her into a hallway and then to the end of it, where there were three doors.

"that's the closet of various garbage." serim pointed to the end of the path, the far wall. "this is a bathroom," she pointed to the door on the left, "and the guest room," she put her hand on the door on their right, "or, now, your room." she corrected.

"and where do you sleep?" karina asked, confused as she received no instructions about the master bedroom.

"on a leaf among the palm trees." serim quipped with a sour tone, earning a glare from karina.

serim entered the guest room with karina close behind and proceeded to leave her things on the bed. the youngest scanned around the place with her eyes. it looked comfortable. it was definitely spacious, bigger than her dorm room, though not as cozy. she understood at that moment that when it was time to move out, she would use her money on an apartment with rooms as large as serim's, just to fill them with decoration, which this one lacked. there was a television and a wardrobe in which she knew that if she had brought all of her garments, she would not have been able to store them. apart from that, there were only a few plants and a large window overlooking the urbanization.

it was a convenient refuge from having to cross paths with serim all the time.

"you already saw the kitchen and the living room. to go to my room, just go through the hallway next to the kitchen, it is the first door you will find." serim spoke seriously, a facet she didn't use often. "listen, karina," she rested her arm on the entrance frame, leaning her weight on it. "i'm sorry for all this." they looked at each other sympathetically. "i didn't imagine it could get to this point, but don't stress. we spend most of the time working. you'll see, it will pass quickly, and you won't even be here that much."

"serim, you don’t need to say all this." the dancer turned her back to start arranging her stuff. "it's like you said, we have to do what the company says."

"alright." the singer dropped her head, dejected. "i'll be in my room. the living is all yours in case you want to… cry while watching cartoons." karina looked at her indignantly. "if you have any questions or need whatever, look for me." she stood up, ready to leave. "oh, and i’m sorry your boyfriend is an idiot." she finished and then disappeared.

the younger woman continued to scatter her belongings across the bed while she wandered around the newly discovered place, finding spots to put them. she couldn't help but feel desperate seeing her most everyday objects in a place other than where they were assigned in her bedroom.

hiding her intimate diary in another drawer, placing the stuffed animal she slept with every night on another pillow.

it all felt disorienting. she couldn't stand the feeling of lack of control over her own life that she had been experiencing for the past month. she felt like a character in some video game, given commands that she inevitably had to carry out, even if they were a sequence of errors that would end in the early termination of the game.

she could feel tears beginning to wet her cheeks as she folded one of her pajamas. the tears turned into uncontrolled sobbing as she put away the third one. even though she had a storm of emotions inside her, she didn't stop, she didn't give herself a moment to deal with it.

"listen." serim's voice filled the room unexpectedly, and karina ran her hand over her face, wiping away as much of her cry as she could so she could look at her. even if she wanted to hide it, she couldn't. her red, swollen eyes and the sheen of her skin, still somewhat damp, gave her away.

"would you like me to cook you something?" she assumed that she was not the person with whom she would open up about her feelings, therefore decided to not question her cathartic state.

"there's no need." the younger shook her head.

"i cook really well." assured.

"serim," the girl called her, the connotation of her tone indicating she didn't want her to insist.

"i'll prepare something for you." the owner of the apartment ignored her plaintive state. "i'll tell you when it’s ready," she warned, with a happier spirit, trying to lift the mood.

(!)

— taglist [OPEN]: @yoontoonwhs @cwpiqwon @aliceiwk @xen248 @gtfoiydlyj @rinapomu @aeriuchinarga @multiliker @somedaydream @impossiblesharkcashrebel @yjiminswallet @haerinsloverr @yerimbrit @73vyn @dni-unavailable @lovemariana @sewiouslyz @yeetaberry127 @masuowo

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celtic-crossbow · 2 days

Text

I Know I’m Bad News (I Saved It All for You) Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD Violence and Gore; panty sniffing; allusions to r*pe

The end of the world was not really an ideal event for anyone, and while surely everyone thought their resulting situation was the worst imaginable, you were truly adamant in your belief that your life was the epitome of disastrous. You had been alone for years, having no one and nowhere to turn while cities crumbled and people died all around you. You had done the only logical thing you could.

You ran.

And you kept running.

You stopped when the hunger pains became unbearable. You stopped when your bladder was so full that it might explode. You stopped when exhaustion was weighing heavily on your body. And you stopped when hiding became necessary.

You had hidden from them. The group of men that were razing the building as they grabbed anything useful, including your bag.

“Joe! Joe, look at these clothes!” One of the men grinned while sniffing your underwear. “It’s a woman.”

“And by the looks of it, she was here recently.” The older man—Joe, it seemed—noted while lifting one of the packs of crackers you had been in the middle of looting. You had thrown them down as you ran to hide—the location of the package directing them straight to your hiding place. “Come on out, now.”

Sighing, you uncurled yourself and lowered your legs out of the air duct, hopping down to straighten with your hands held up to show you weren’t armed. “Just take what you want and go.”

Joe gazed around with an abrupt burst of laughter that was echoed by the other men. “Oh, we will.” Stepping toward you, he arched a brow when you did nothing more than square your shoulders. “Woo, boys. This one’s gonna be fun to play with. Claimed.”

He reached for you suddenly, mid-step, his intentions unclear but no doubt nefarious. It didn’t matter. Snagging his wrist, you used his own momentum to not only evade him but to spin him back to face his men, their weapons already being drawn and aimed.

You were faster.

With his arm now twisted behind his back and pulled upward, you had strategically pulled your own handgun from the back of your jeans, the muzzle pressed against his temple.

“Put ‘em down.” You spat. When no one made an effort to oblige, you pulled upwards on his trapped limb and ground the cold metal against his skin.

“Do it, boys.” Joe’s calmness surprised you, but you were wise enough not to grant them a visible confirmation. “Listen, sweetheart. There’s a lot more of us than you. Those odds just don’t seem fair.”

“Fair to who?” You taunted.

The man scoffed. “You sure do have some spunk, I’ll give ya that.” He tried to adjust his position but your grip only tightened. He was bigger, stronger, but your weapon gave you the advantage. “There’s only one ending here. Put down the gun, let me go. I’ll make sure they’re gentle.” You curled your lip in a disgusted snarl. “Or they’ll put a few bullets in you and we’ll have you anyway. Them’s your choices.”

Your head tilted, you feigned consideration of his “offer,” laughable as it was. “How about I shoot you, then them, one by one?”

“Lady, can’tcha see how many guns we got on you right now?” Another man chimed.

“Oh, I see them.” You confirmed. “I also see that one has the safety on, three of you aren’t even holding them right, and all of you can’t stop looking at my tits long enough to even try for a decent shot.” Your laughter startled them, their smiles fading. “This guy’d be dead and I’d have a bullet in each of you before you could hit me with one.”

“Oh, yeah? I say you’re bluffin’.”

The words had no more than left his lips before the shots rang out. A bullet directly between his eyes, one in each shoulder, and in each knee before he hit the ground. Joe scrambled away from you, his arm now free. You kept your composure, your stoicism schooled in place, practiced from a former life of abuse and difficult choices.

“Anyone else wanna call my bluff?” You asked, a brow lifted in challenge.

Joe was helped to his feet, rubbing his shoulder as soon as he was standing. He regarded you silently, the others shifting about nervously.

“Whatcha want us to do, Joe?”

“Well,” he started, but you were quick to interject.

“You can turn around and walk out those doors. You go your way and I go mine.” It wasn’t a request. The older man stared, incredulous, before his face broke into a grin and laughter bubbled out of him.

“Or,” He contested. You rolled your eyes and ground your teeth. He was really starting to get on your nerves. “Way I see it, I’m down a man now since you took out ol’ Billy there.” He waved a lazy hand toward the body. “Why don’tcha just come with us?”

“I thought we established that I have no interest in being your fuck toy.” You hissed.

“Not like that.” He motioned for the men to lower their weapons. “Join us. We take care of our own.” Wagging a finger at you, he started turning to walk out. “Think you might be a fine replacement.” The men parted to let him pass, his invitation left hanging in the air. “Let’s go, boys.”

“But, Joe, she—”

“Wait.” You called out, lowering your gun, only slightly. “Just—hold up.”

You weren’t the first to notice him, but you weren’t far behind the others, Joe at your side. The man was just sitting, cross-legged, in the middle of the road, his head down, shoulders slumped. Defeated. A crossbow laid at his knee.

He was a pretty one with an air of danger about him. Your time with Joe’s Claimers made you appreciate the rugged men you’d come across. They were always the most entertaining and fought the hardest against the men with which you traveled. The ones before, however, would always be spouting some cocky, desperate bullshit by now.

This one hadn’t said a word or even moved beyond looking up at the individuals now surrounding him. You hung back, getting a feel for him and how to—even if you should—approach. Sometimes you were the bait, luring men and women into a false sense of security before the group would pounce. It was one of your many roles.

You actually startled when the man punched Joe and grabbed the crossbow. He moved so fast. While Joe didn’t seem angry—even told the boys to stand down—he was still in the sights of the stranger’s weapon.

Oh well. Their way didn’t work, so it was your turn. You weren’t about to let them kill one that you really wanted a chance to play with.

“Wait!” You called, placing yourself between Joe and the business end of the weapon. You knew what to watch for, the eyes would always tell on them, but while in others, you had seen fear, intrigue, and sometimes even desire, this one only seemed to look at you with something akin to sadness. You took note and filed that away for later. “I know you don’t wanna kill me.”

“You don’t know nothin’.”

Oh. His voice was just as rugged as his appearance. “I know you won’t kill me.” You bravely—or stupidly—put your finger on the tip of the bolt. “Why don’t you put this down,—” you drew out the last word and tilted your head in request of his name. Your fingertip still rested against the bolt.

The man hesitated, the wheels turning as he scrutinized you. You couldn’t help but be impressed. This was a man who could read people as well as you could. Luckily for you, you were a master at shielding your emotions. After a moment of tense silence, he lowered the crossbow.

“Daryl.”

“Hi, Daryl. I’m Y/N.”

Len used the butt of his rifle to drop Daryl at your feet, a wicked smile curving the corners of your mouth.

“And I’m about to have so much fun.” Looking around at the others, they laughed while Harley reached for the crossbow. With a step forward, you placed a foot on Daryl’s hand and pointed at the weapon.

“Claimed.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #i know i’m bad news #the walking dead #claimer!reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl angst #daryl dixon angst #the claimers

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dragon-kazansky · 3 days

Text

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Nine - Piece of me

☆☆☆

You stand beside Dream as you stare at the old depleted building. On your way here, Dream had explained to you Hob Gadling. Once a century, they would meet in this pub. Dream would ask Hob about his experiences and his life, seeing if he really wanted to continue living.

You were fascinated. It dawned on you that you and Hob had something in common. Both of you would live forever.

"I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for." Dreak looks at you curiously.

"Still, this place meant something to you."

"The pub wasn't going to last forever."

"I suppose not..."

As you look around the fence, you spot a red line drawn right across the metal. You reach out and trace the words 'The New Inn' with your finger. "Do you think this is important?"

Dream reads the words and then follows the line with his eyes. He begins to wall in that direction. You follow him.

You end up outside a very pretty building. A little pub. There are people sitting outside in the garden having a drink in the sun. You smile slightly at the sight. It was fascinating to you.

"Do you think he's in there?" You ask.

"Perhaps."

Dream walks slowly toward the building, and you continue to follow him. Inside was nice and cool. You look around. The pub wasn't huge, and you liked that. The woman behind the bar smiles at you as you walk past.

Dream leads you further into the pub and comes to stop. You look up at him and then follow his gaze. There's a handsome man sitting by himself at a table grading papers in front of him.

The man looks up slowly and then smiles. "You're late."

Morpheus smiles, too. "It seems I owe you an apology. I've always heard it impolite to keep one's friends waiting."

Hob gestures to the chair opposite him. Morpheus pulls the chair out and then looks at you, offering it to you instead. You seem a little startled by that, expecting him to just sit down. You take the seat and watch Dream pull up another chair.

"And who's this?" Hob asks, smiling at you.

Dream speaks your name. You smile softly and feel rather bashful under Hob’s gaze.

"Nice to meet you."

"You too," you smile at him.

Hob turns to Dream and raises his brows up with a smile. Morpheus smiles back, not giving away anything else.

The two old friends catch up. Hob talks to Dream about many different things, and you listen with great interest. You had missed out on so much.

Dream shares his story with Hob. You find it hard to look at either of them while Dream talks. You're ashamed for what your family had done to him.

"Hey." You look up when Hob calls out quietly to you. "You're safe now. I'm sure he doesn't hold any malice toward you for what happened. Right?" Hob looks at Dream.

Morpheus looks at you. "I do not. You are not the reason I was trapped there. But being trapped there was the reason I found you."

You don't really know what to say to that. You stare at him. Your mind is riddled with thoughts and feelings.

Hob looked between the two of you and smiled softly. "Are you two together?"

You both turn to him.

"Yes." "No!"

You turn to Dream. "We're not... together."

He looks at you. "Are we not?"

"Of course not."

He leans forward a little bit and looks at you a little closer. "Are we not bonded?"

"Well, yes... but..."

"That is enough for me," he says.

"But..." The words die on your tongue. You feel a little confused by what he thinks. Did he assume that automatically meant you were both a couple?

"I think you've still got some things to figure out. Forgive me for asking," Hob says softly.

"It's alright..." You assure him.

Hob gets up to order a round of drinks, and you sit next to Dream awkwardly. He keeps his eyes on you while you both wait for Hob to return.

"Do you dislike me?" He asks suddenly.

"What?"

"Do you dislike me?"

"No." You shake your head. "I'm just not sure what it is you want out of this."

"I thought that was obvious," he replies.

"I meant we could be friends. Being soupmates doesn't mean we have to be in love or anything." You look at him. He sits there quietly, staring at you. "You're looking for a lover?"

"I've had lovers before. I want something... different."

"Different?"

"More," he clarifies.

You drop your gaze to the table and sigh softly. He wants someone he can love unconditionally without dear of them leaving him. You glance up to see he's still looking at you, and you're not sure what to do. Luckily, Hob returns. He places a drink in front of each of you and looks at you both.

"Are you against me having feelings for you?" Dreams asks softly.

"No. I just... I'm still learning about you. I haven't even really spent much time in your realm. It's kind of overwhelming being a human one day and then the soulmate of a cosmic entity the next."

Dream's lips curl into a tiny little smile.

Hob looks between you both again. He's kind of amused by his old friend. He never really imagined him as a romantic type, but it's clear he wants something with you.

"Do you hold no feelings at all for me?" Dream then asks.

"No, I... I'm curious about you, but I can't say I'm in love with you or anything. Are you lonely?" You ask.

"Perhaps."

"It makes sense why you want this to be more, but I don't think we're compatible like that."

"No?"

"You're just so... different." You look at him with a sorry expression. He can tell you're trying to be sincere.

"Because I am not mortal?"

"Because you're so closed off."

He stares at you for a good few long moments and then casts his eyes away. It's not like he doesn't know what you mean. He's just ashamed it had to be said out loud.

He just wants you to like him.

"You will stay in the Dreaming with me, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then I shall ask no more lf you," he says, looking back at you once more. You look into his pretty blue eyes and find your heart skips a beat.

Hob picks up the conversation with Dream again, and they talk between them some more. You listen and chime in every so often, but for the most part, your mind drifts.

You wonder what will come of this bond you share with the Sandman.

☆☆☆

Once again, you stand in the palace within the Dreaming. This time, you have time to actually take it in. You can tell just by looking around that Dream himself designed every little part of his realm.

He was obviously proud of his work. The rook he gave you was designed by him, too. You can tell he went to a lot of effort to make sure you would be comfortable here. He clearly wanted you to like your new home.

Home.

The Burgess mansion never really felt like home. It became your prison. Now you had a home. A home unlike anything you could have imagined before. It made you feel warm.

A knock on your door makes you snap out of your thoughts. You turn and call out, letting the person know they could enter. Dream steps into your room and your heartbeat picks up.

"How are you settling in?" He asks kindly.

"It's a very nice room. I'll be quite comfortable in here."

"Good." He walks over to the bed where you're sat and stands about a foot away. You can see the cogs in his brain turning, trying to work out what he wants to say.

"Are you alright?" You ask.

You see the way his posture straightens slightly. There was clearly something he wanted to say.

"I have a proposition for you."

"What kind of proposition?"

"A declaration if you will. I want to give you a piece of myself as a sign of my loyalty and devotion to you."

You stare at him in a mix of shock, confusion, and awe. "A piece of you?"

"A portion of my power. I offer it to you as a gift."

"You don't need to do that," you tell him, worried about what that would entail.

"I want to."

You look at him, really look at him, and see the way his eyes subtly plead with you to do this for him. You realise then just how much he holds you in high regard.

"Alright..."

Dream lifts his chin up a little and then holds out his hand. You stare at his pale hand for a moment before taking it. He pulls you up to your feet carefully and then pulls you a little closer to him. His hand remains clasped around yours. You keep your gaze on his face and watch as he closes his eyes. Your hand starts to tingle, and you look down to see what looks like golden sand around your entwined hands. You gasp softly as you feel a strange warmth bubbling in your chest and then as quickly as it came, it vanishes.

Dream opens his eyes and gazes at you. He holds your hand in his, his thumb lightly brushing over your skin.

"How do you feel?"

You look up at him and take a moment to think, to feel. "I don't know."

Dream lifts your hand slowly up to his lips and kisses your knuckles gently. You can't seem to tear your eyes away as he lowers your hand and let's go. You feel his fingers slip from your grasp like sand.

"I will teach you how to use this power if you will let me."

All you can manage to do is not quietly, unable to use your voice right now. You feel warm. You feel safe. You feel his love through your veins.

This was his way of telling you how he felt.

You look down at your hand. The sand is gone. The tingle is no longer there. However, you can still feel the phantom warmth of his hand in yours.

"What do I do with this power?" You ask softly.

"You help me here in the Dreaming." He smiles slightly. He is proud of this step He has taken.

You close your hand and look up at him. You offer him a smile.

He looks relieved.

This new life of yours starts now.

☆☆☆

@deniixlovezelda - @missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @meganlpie - @thoughtsfromlayla - @ladyjbrekker

@mwaaaaaugh - @bluespecs14 - @intothesoul - @lady-violet - @navs-bhat - @krahk - @oldsoulmagic

@rubyrose2014 - @lorkai - @roxytheimmortal - @star-maker-rain-dancer - @intothesoul - @gemini-mama - @whotperlinda

@dreamingblueberries - @the-shadow-of-aurora - @novavida - @blackgirlmagicforever

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 - @hopshusushi - @sloppyzengarden - @thecraziestcrayon -

#heart of the Dreaming #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #female reader #the sandman #dragon writes

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bitchcakegreen · 15 hours

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I finally watched all four episodes of season 3 part 1 and I have thoughts, as a fan and as a screenwriter/former romance novelist, and professional director. I didn’t have netflix but I got it for this season. I did this kinds of analyzations and such during Game of Thrones. Hopefully people enjoy reading. Full disclosure, I have not read any of the Bridgerton books. (I’m about three chapters into Romancing Mr. Bridgerton)

First off, give me all the Pen and Colin all the time. I’ve been hoping they get together from season 1 and I’m so happy Shondaland didn’t make us wait another season, as the books go in a different order. There’s a lot of subtle nuance to Pen and Colin’s scenes, Colin always seeking out Pen wherever they are, the tent pastry scene followed by Colin clearly eating the same pastry as Pen did. The tent scene was freaking hot. I said what I said. Things of this nature make their love affair so lush. It’s that journey to getting to the carriage scene that’s so thrilling.

I didn’t mind Francesca’s subplot or the Mondrich one but I do agree with many I’ve seen here that the subplots almost took over. There was a lot of emphasis placed on things other than Pen and Colin which annoyed me somewhat. Hopefully when we get to part 2 there will be more intense focus on Polin and the subplots are just rotating around them because right now, with the pacing of these first four episodes, it’s the opposite. Polin feel as if they are somewhat an afterthought.

The Cressida redemption movement I don’t think will last into part 2. I think all this work is to try and make the audience sympathize with her and then when she goes after Pen, Pen as Lady D, and so forth we are supposed to think “OH! But she was being so nice.” Hopefully I’m wrong and they follow through on her storyline because if they don’t…they wasted a lot of time and storyline on her instead of focusing on Polin.

I’m ambivalent about Lord Debling, so meh. Sorry about it.

Anthony and Kate - absolutely unnecessary but I know why they brought them in. One, he is the Viscount so he would be around. Two, they are fan favorite. I get it. I accept it. It was just wasted real estate for me. But to each their own.

I love Mr. Finch and I LOVED he got to be such a beaming brother-in-law for Pen in the green dress. I do wish they hadn’t shown us the dress reveal in the trailer. It would have been such an awestruck moment for us to see it first in the show. Sweeping cape removal and glittering loveliness.

Pen’s sisters and their race to get pregnant. It’s all a setup for Pen to be pregnant first or with the male heir by the end of the season. Cute but really long winded in getting there. There is a now since deleted promo clip of Pen, with Colin standing behind her, where she takes his hand and places it on her stomach. So we’re getting a pregnancy nod somewhere next part. May even be why she faints in whatever scene they show in the trailer for part 2.

Eloise needs to get her head out of her butt. I don’t think she’s angry Pen is LW but more angry that she didn’t figure out Pen was Whistledown sooner. She’s mad that Pen didn’t try to see her during the offseason, yet she tells her at the end of season 2 to get the fuck out of her life. Get it together Eloise. I love Eloise, don’t get me wrong, I adore her. I just want her to stop acting like an ass and TALK to Pen.

There is discourse about the second Colin threesome scene, but there really shouldn’t be. There’s a reason for it. It showcases that Colin is done with the charade he’s been playing all season. He isn’t the bon vivant, dashing rake he’s supposed to be. It’s jarring but it’s a scene with a purpose.

All the Polin scenes are delightful. The balloon scene might be my favorite - the pastry scene I include in this. And of course the first kiss and the carriage scene (which lives in my head on repeat) but I have to say, I wanted more Polin screen time. I think if we spliced all the Polin scenes together we see that out of four hours of film, they have maybe a cumulative 1 hour of screen time. Which isn’t much for a couple that is the lead of the season. Hopefully the ratio will be better in part two.

Merit badges and raises to the Featherington coachmen and to Pen’s maid Rae. They are MVPs and are totally gossiping about Polin. You know that tea was flowing in the servant’s quarters about the carriage ride…

Scenes I hope we get in part 2.

1. Full on sexfest with Pen and Colin, the likes to rival Daphne and Simon.

2. Whistledown reveal to Colin. First I want him angry - that passionate angry we use in romance novels. The kind where the hero is always “I’m so mad at you right now I can’t see straight but I need you writhing with passion underneath me screaming my name RIGHT NOW!” kind of angry. I want ripped corsets and torn skirts. If you know you know.

3. Pen and Eloise make up.

4. Big stupid lavish wedding.

5. More unhinged Queen Charlotte wigs. Because reasons.

Sorry this was such a long post, but I needed to get my thoughts out. Thanks for reading if you made it this far. Now excuse me while I go watch part 1 elevenity million more times.

#romance novels #romance writers #polin #bridgerton #writing #bridgerton thoughts #colin bridgerton #colin x penelope #polin bridgerton #writer thoughts #late night writing #bridgerton season 3 #penelope featherington #shondaland #netlfix #bridgerton netflix

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hierba-picante · 3 days

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I'll Be There Ch.1

Summary: You are Gregory's older sibling! :D He tags along with you to your interview for your new job at the pizza plex! A/N: GUYS!!! THE LONG AWAITED FIIIC YIPEEE!!

I'm sorry this took a while to come out- I thought today was Friday--my bad guys :'D- I did also say I was going to post this to AO3 but uhm erm,... I was unaware of the invitation and having to wait a few days to get approved..SO I POST THE TWO CHAPTERS HERE!! They will later get uploaded to AO3 once I have the account settled!! Word Count: 6k!! Tags!: gn!reader, many hijinks, no use of y/n, Gregory is a little shit, the daycare attendants are goofy, Moon, Sun, and Eclipse are all separate animatronics!, Daycare attendants have transatlantic accents, Alternate universe- Canon Divergence, self insert, 2nd person POV, mentions of minor injury!!

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Serene. Quiet. In the warm grasp of your peaceful slumber. Your toasty blanket completely engulfed you whole. Your face poking out just enough to let air flow into your nose for proper breathing. Your room was cozy, well, your side of the room. A desk cluttered with trinkets and paperwork. Scribbled notes on top of books. Your soft bed adjacent to said desk. Some fairy lights strung about as to not let it ever be a full dark night. Plush animals strewn about to occupy the remaining space of your bed and floor beneath it. Ah yes, one could get used to such luxury. The other side belonged to your little brother. A handful he was, one you kept close to your heart. His own plush animals are thrown around to mingle with his light boards and remote control cars. A small desk with crayons and construction paper. Some snippets of color here and there. A small pile of markers missing their caps. No matter, you’d find them another time. His bed laid empty, his liveliness unbeknownst to you. For now. You awoke to a plush object falling onto your face. Your little brother’s laugh rang through the room. Feeling his weight shift onto the bed as he giggled and nudged you awake. Smiling to yourself, you sat up and let the object fall onto your lap. A yellow teddy bear with a blue gingham ribbon. How cute. With a yawn and a stretch you greeted your sibling by ruffling his hair. “Morning, pudge.” He shook his head away and lightly smacked your hand. “Hey!” You couldn’t help the chuckle that left your throat. “Heyyy!” Mocking him with a smirk, you ruffle his hair once more. A harsh nudge of his head sent your hand flying off. Before you could react, he sent himself shooting right into your abdomen. “Oof-!” You breathed out. Minor pain aside, he curled himself up into your lap and started babbling about a dream he had. You glanced out your window as your hand tucked his hair behind his ear. The sun hasn’t come out yet. Blue hour. Smiling, you closed your eyes with a hum. Right on time. This was routine for you and your little brother, Gregory. He’d wake up at around four in the morning and immediately run up to your bed. Toss his plush as high up into the air as possible and let it fall onto your unsuspecting self. Of course, Gregory only wakes you up for the important things, consisting of: a glass of water, a sweet bread, some cereal, or just to talk your ear off about the wildest dream he had. This time, he chose the latter.

Normally, you’d wait for him to talk to himself to sleep, but you were particularly tired this morning. So you scooped up your little brother, interrupting his dream talk session.

He expressed his dismay by tugging on your shirt and raising his voice. You got off the bed briefly to remove some of your plush animals. Once satisfied with the space you made, you cradled him back to bed with you. Giving him most of your pillow as he made himself comfortable. Humming a short tune as you bundled up the blankets around the two of you. “Alright, tell me what else happened in your dream,” you said, smiling and pinching his nose. He laughed and scrunched his eyes closed.

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The bright sun is what woke you up first. You sat up with a groan. Not quite the morning person you used to be, you sat up with eyebrows already knitted together, squinting at your window with repugnance. Begrudgingly, you made your way to shut the pesky light out with curtains. Only to get cut off by a sudden crash downstairs. Oh come now, what time is it even? You thought to yourself. The clock read 6:32 a.m. That checks out. Gregory, still being the morning person, was usually making himself some sort of breakfast by this time. Grabbing a sweater, you made your way down the stairs. Dreading what sort of mess you’d find on your arrival. “Don’t come down!! I dropped a glass bowl!!” he warned you. You paused and looked down at your fuzzy socks. You left your slippers upstairs. Admittedly a bad habit, but one that Gregory took into account.

“Did you get cut? Do I need to get the bandages?” you hollered back to him as you made your way back to get your slippers.

A few seconds of silence passed by. Taking that as a yes, you made swift work of retrieving the bandages from the mirror cabinet in the upstairs bathroom, along with some antiseptic if needed. You smiled to yourself. Remembering how clumsy Gregory had been in his younger years. Often running to you in tears after scraping his knees, or getting stung by a bee he'd been chasing. It was rare to see him without a bandage somewhere. Your thumb traced over the bandaid box gently. You yourself were rather clumsy. Often bumping your nose into something or getting cut by the most random things. Just like Gregory, you'd be seen with some sort of bandage. Or even a bruise here and there.

Laughing to yourself, you made your way to the kitchen. Gregory had already swept up the glass debris. He dumped it into an old kitchen rag before tying it with a rubber band. All while wearing oven mitts. Something you'd taught him to avoid any further injury. Whether it be you or anyone else who comes across it.

"C'mere, lemme see," you offered with a hand. Embarrassed, he made taking off the oven mitts as slow as humanly possible. Mumbling something about it not being that bad. "Gregory." Warning him as if you'd already begun to count to three. He groaned out a "hmph" and let his wrist fall onto your hand.

The cut itself was wide. About a quarter size to be exact. It looked like he peeled a sliver of skin off, enough so to have little specks of blood forming. Not a deep cut, thank goodness, but a cut nonetheless. You hummed and dabbed some of the antiseptic on. Your little brother grimacing a bit at the sting.

"How did you get this from dropping a bowl?" you questioned as you slipped on a bandaid. Keeping your hold so he wouldn't find a way to weasel out.

Gregory huffed, "I didn't. I got it from cutting strawberries. I didn't wanna use the cutting board, so I cut them in my hand. But the knife slipped and...yeah…” he trailed off.

You hummed, seeming satisfied with his answer. Hand hovering just an inch above his bandaged wound. You smacked it. "Ow!! What??" he fumed.

"You couldn't be bothered to wash a cutting board? Now look. You have a quarter sized piece of skin missing," you gestured towards his wrist.

"So?" he cradled his wrist towards his chest.

"So?" you parroted back, "You know how easy these can get infected if you don't take care of it properly? Knowing your ass, I'm gonna have to remind you to regularly keep it clean."

Gregory's voice grew quiet. "Nooo."

You chuckled. "Yeaaah," you said, mocking his tone. Your brother laughed as he shoved your shoulder.

"Go back to bed, don't you have that interview at two?" he commented as he made his way back to his fruit.

"I do. Did you wanna come with?"

He thought for a moment, "Hmm..I guess so. Knowing your ass, you'd probably forget where you park." A knowing smile danced across his face.

It was your turn to laugh, "I mean I do—but it's also just a fun place, I think. I figured you can look around and play games while you wait for me."

Gregory feigned his deep thought, "Hmm…wellllll.”

You chuckled and pinched his nose, "It's either yes or I leave you here alone for three hours. I don't want an 'I guess.'" Your brother shook his face away in laughter.

"Okay, okay! I'll tag along!"

You smiled at his answer, "Alright, be ready by 1:30." You ruffled his hair before heading to the stairs. The faint sound of chopping on a cutting board could be heard once you reached your bedroom door. Your shoulders relaxed. "Good egg,” you whispered to yourself.

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The drive there wasn't too bad. Early afternoon on a weekday. People were either working or in class. Either way, it allowed you to arrive ten minutes early. You turned your car off and rummaged around in your bag before exiting your car. You looked at the massive building before you. A silent gasp fell from your mouth as you opened Gregory's door.

"I didn't expect the pizzaplex to be that big…" you mumbled as your little brother laughed.

"Didn't you read up on the job offer before applying?" he poked at your side.

You jumped and swatted his hand away. "I did!” You exclaimed as you shut the car door. “…The important parts at least..." Your answer only gives more fuel to Gregory's laughter.

True, you had read up on the offer itself, the expectations and what not. Just not the rest of what the place had to offer as entertainment. You were there for a retail position. Specifically, a spot in the Lucky Star's Gift Shop. Expectations were: know how to manage a register, minor custodial experience, customer service, and general knowledge of the products you'd be selling. Those products being: plush toys, candies, apparel, trinkets, etc. An easy job surely.

You didn't expect the pizzaplex to be the size of a super mall and then some. Your wide eyes glued to the building as Gregory dragged you to the front doors. The parking lot was thankfully not as full. You felt comfortable in trusting your sibling to guide you to your destination.

A small chime rang once the two of you arrived. The smell of pizza and freshly cleaned carpeting wafted in the air. The ceilings were higher than the sky. Tiled floors waxed clean and carpeted floors as vibrant as the day they'd been installed. Gregory let go of your hand as he took a step ahead. Eager eyes darting around all the possible things he could do: an exciting collection of bowling, racing, arcades, and a food court, to name a few. He felt his stomach growl. His window shopping, however, got interrupted by a robot. A cute little thing. Just an inch taller than Gregory. Colored cheeks and the animation of a stiff broomstick. A colorful sunny shirt with the words "Daycare!" littered across its chest. A quick scan from your head to toe gave it all the information needed.

"Interview number 24, scheduled in 8 minutes. Early. Punctual. With a—" it stopped and gave a slight nod, "—plus one. I am one of the daycare's staff robots, greetings. Would you like me to show you to the location of the interview? Do you need to enroll the young one into the daycare while he waits?" It offered its metallic hand towards you.

You smiled and shook your head. "Thank you! But he’s alright on his own, I appreciate the offer though!" You made quick work of fishing for your credit card in your wallet. "Alright Greg, I'm leaving you with this to use responsibly. Food and a few games. Keep your phone volume on high and with you at all times. I'll call you once I'm done, alright?"

His eager hands snatched the piece of plastic, "Alright!" And with that, he was gone. Laughter hummed through your chest as you took the staff bot's hand. Just an interview. In and out. Then you'd find Gregory and be on your way home.

The walk there helped you familiarize yourself with the layout of the first floor. You took note of a few bathrooms and emergency exits. The bright neon lights arranged in stripes along the wall caught your eye. How you didn't notice that upon first entering was beyond you. The larger than life statues in the dead center as well. The Glam Rocks, in golden splendor.

You kept making mental notes as you followed the staff bot up the escalators—a gift shop or two on the side, a few designated party rooms—just some things you'd expect to see in the pizzaplex. You almost bumped into the bot as it halted. Pristine walls were decorated with a fun blue sky and the words “Super Star Daycare!” Two painted over doors sat in the middle. The right door had a small screen on it. A small wave of the staff bot’s hand had the screen flashing a green color. The doors click open, granting you both access. You watched in awe at the interaction, smiling to yourself at the notion that kids under Fazbear care were taken very seriously. Enough so to only allow a select few during working hours.

What you didn't expect was to hear the reverb of a band. Wasn't this a daycare? You didn't recall reading about there being two bands within the facility. That or the Glam Rocks hosting shows for the smaller children. Sensing your confusion, the staff bot chimed, "While this is a daycare, the attendants do like to offer shows to both children and family members. A sort of break from taking care of all the little ones running around. It keeps them still long enough while me and the others get nap time essentials ready—or when organizing the place during a busy day." You nodded at it's explanation. The staff bot took your hand once more and guided you into the hallway.

The glittery ivory flooring wasn't new, but the light fixtures were. Instead of intense neon, this section of the pizzaplex favored a warm light hung by chandelier. There were faint wooden walls staring back at you. It felt elegant to say the least. Catching you off guard, as you wouldn't expect this sort of appeal from a daycare. But a place to hold shows? You could picture it.

The daycare itself was enormous. The front doors loomed over you, as did its walls. Your eyes trailed up to find a sort of railing at an even higher level. You could only assume it was to help clean and maintain the structure. While it was walled off, the daycare offered viewing windows for anyone who dropped off their kid. Or in this case, for you to peer into.

The bot led you a bit aways from the daycare. Noticing a small fault in your steps, it offered you a small stop to look through the side window. Paying attention to your growing curiosity for the daycare attendants. You smiled in thanks and turned your attention to watch.

A bright sunny animatronic held the position as lead guitarist. His rays dancing about with little head shakes along with his background vocals. His counterpart, a sleepy night capped moon animatronic, played what looked like a bass while also taking lead vocals. Easily keeping up with the sun's guitar. Behind them, another animatronic was on drums. He resembled the sun, but had a darker color palette and a dark silhouette in his rays. He had a calmer smile to him. While he didn't sing along, he did keep up with their energy. An eclipse themed animatronic, you deduced.

Next to the moon was another guitar player, a more human looking animatronic. His color palette matched the sun's while taking the personality of the moon. Rays shooting out from his curly hair. To the sun's left was a female animatronic, another human-esque one. A violin in one hand and a wide smile and energy to match the sun's. Though her color palette resembled the moon's more than anything. Even sporting a similar nightcap.

"A Thousand Eyes, I believe that's what they're playing. It's a popular choice here. Bobby Vee?" the bot nodded, "Yes Bobby Vee, a classic." You continued looking on, impressed by their performance.

Your eyes danced across their attire: the sun sporting an exciting patterned button up shirt, bright yellow suns decorating his arms and chest. His pants were high waisted and loosely flared at the legs. Having a clown like ruffle at both ends, with cute sun's at the knees. The moon wore a red vest atop his own button up shirt. A puffed short sleeve with moons leading into a tight long sleeve seamlessly. Sporting similar pants as his counterpart, the main difference being the moons on his knees and a faint change in fabric color at the hips. As well as the buttons, which formed in a triangular pattern at his waist. Their clothing is reminiscent of both a 50s working man's attire and a 50s clown costume.

The eclipse was vastly different in clothing. An eclipse patterned button up yes, but short sleeved. No elongated pants either. Instead, he was clad in high waisted, two toned shorts with two pairs of belts. A pair of knee socks hugged at his legs before leading into his jester shoes. You couldn't help the smile growing on your face. While his counterparts had casual working man's clothing, he wore a relaxed summer outfit.

The human leaning designed animatronics had contrasting aspects. While the male's color palette resembled the sun and eclipse, he had somber imagery: a yellow short sleeved button down riddled with rain clouds and drops. His pants flaring with ruffles. The latter being cleverly white with raindrops defying gravity and drifting up his legs. His female counterpart sporting sad blues to match the moon. Specks of happy suns littered her puffy sleeved button up. Her own vest was colored a happy yellow with four pointed stars. Her high waisted shorts were a two toned blue with similar stars dancing at the ends. A sun patterned nightcap atop her head.

"So remember when you tell your little white lies that the niiiight~ Has a thousand eyyyyes~!", The sun and moon sang while their human counterparts accompanied with a falsetto. The eclipse excitedly hit his symbols to signify the end of the song.

The daycare erupted in cheers and you couldn't help but clap softly. The animatronics bowed as flowers and toys were thrown to the main stage. The sun was the first to rise, his smile widening as he made eye contact with you. You smiled back and raised your hands up a bit. Wanting to make sure he saw you were clapping. Only for said clapping to stop once he winked at you. You couldn't help the silent gasp you let out. The girl animatronic jumped up from her bow, waving to children excitedly. Turning to yank her other half up. Her eyes briefly caught your's, her smile growing that much wider.

“Two minutes remaining until the interview. Shall we be on our way?” The staff bot unknowingly offered you an out to your awkward expression. "Y-Yea! Let's!" you agreed. This time you took its hand in yours as you walked away.

"Ah—I see you were familiar with the way to the Lucky Star's Gift Shop?" you stopped abruptly.

“Uhm...nooo..." sheepishly admitting you were, in fact, not.

The bot laughed, "Don't worry, it's a few steps in front of you."

You glanced up from your stance and saw the sign in front of you. "Oh—! Well look at that…" biting the inside of your cheek as you continued leading the staff bot there. ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

"Guys! Did you see them? The new interviewee for the gift shop?" Sun exclaimed. His fellow bandmates looked around for said interviewee.

"I don't think we did," Moon admitted, "Brother?"

Eclipse shook his head, "Sorry, afraid not. PeyPey?” he turned to the human animatronic.

"Hmm...can't say I did, Caro?" his counterpart excitedly nodded.

"I did! I think they were absolutely darling, wouldn't you agree Sun?" she rested her head on PeyPey's shoulder.

Sun excitedly nodded his head, "I do! Darling and kind! They clapped for us after we played! Oh, I can't wait to meet them!!"

Moon chuckled, "That's if they get hired, brother dear. And knowing the luck with past interviews, I'm afraid their chances look slim."

Eclipse clicked his tongue, "Well, never say never, Moon. Don't sour Sun's optimism."

PeyPey nodded in agreement, "I think this is the first one to actually stop and watch a bit of our show.”

"Right you are! I'm sure we've more than grabbed their attention, enough so to have them really aiming to win this interview~!" Sun sang out as he began to put his guitar away. The rest of the band mates followed suit with their own instruments.

"Well, possibly…maaaybeee," his lunar brother teased as he put on his neck ruffle.

"I just hope it all turns out okay," Eclipse added while also fitting his own neck garment on.

"Oh come now, I'm sure they'll ace it! They've already made quite the impression on Sun, I'm sure he'd be more than happy to convince the company otherwise if it all came down to it," Caro commented.

Her other half chiming in, "It'd be nice to finally open up the gift shop. The staff bots help a lot but none have what the higher ups are looking for, even with all the programming they do."

Moon hummed in thought, "What do you suppose they're looking for?" He opened his palms as if waiting for something. All eyes turned to PeyPey.

"Well...someone kind and patient, who can connect with guests, and…someone who has experience with children? Especially the younger ones. Someone who has a real knack for it," he concluded.

Eclipse twirled his drumstick. "That sounds about right. Certainly the type of person I'd want working in a gift shop right next to a daycare," he smiled.

"Speaking of daycare: our other jobs await! Come on!" Sun spun his rays as he ran off to the growing number of children waiting to get checked in.

Eclipse laughed and followed his brother. "Hold on now! Let me just wrangle up PeyPey and Caro!" Moon called over to his brothers.

He held out his arms and nodded towards the two animatronics. Both of which did a quick jump into the air. After a small popping sound and puff of clouds, they were the size of pineapples. Landing softly into Moon's embrace.

"Why they made you two as both small and tall will always confuse me," he quipped as he jogged over to the check in.

"Aww, Moon, don't you find us helpful when the kids get into small spaces? Or when you need an extra pair of hands for paperwork?" Caro asked while tugging on his ruffle.

The animatronic rolled his eyes with a smile, "I suppose so."

"Or how about when you need us to walk around the daycare during nap time? The other two aren't aren't too great at sneaking like us three. Especially on a full day. Are we helpful then? Or how about—" PeyPey's words got cut short by Moon's hand gently patting his head.

"Alright alright! You're both helpful even when the size of fruits! Happy?" he exasperated. The pair nodded, satisfied with his answer. ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

The gift shop was pretty homey, reminiscent of a mom and pop shop, and matching the personality of the daycare indeed. Faint primary colored wooden walls surrounded you, accompanied by cartoons of the attendants frolicking about. Ivory tiled flooring at your feet, white wooden shelves with card labels for what would be set out. ‘Sun plush toys here,’ read the one. ‘Eclipse plush toys here,’ read another. The shop was well kept. No dust in sight and your reflection smiled back at you from the floor.

Yep, well kept.

"Alright, I've got your papers all settled here. Now let's see…" What would be your manager beckoning you to the front register. You loudly gulped and nodded as you made your way to her.

She was a warm woman. Pansy was what she went by. She was average height and wore a black button up with some slacks. A pen held up her messy bun. Glasses hung at the bridge of her nose. During your initial interaction, you'd find out that not only was she this giftshop's manager, but the manager of pretty much every other shop here in the pizzaplex. How does she manage all the inventory and employees? You'd never know. Trying to think about it made your balance shift off its axis. Even with the technological advancements of staff bots roaming around, managing that many stores must be exhausting. What with customer service whilst also making sure everyone on the team was okay.

"Your resume is nice, your experience certainly fits our criteria. We would love to have you, but you must answer one question correctly," she watched you through the rims of her glasses.

With nervous eyes, you nodded at her once more. Urging her to continue.

"When you see a child begin to cry after a fall, what do you do?" The question itself wasn't one you were expecting.

Befuddled, you recounted the times that child was Gregory. "I...I don't make it into a big deal. If I do, they learn that every little problem is a bigger deal than it's supposed to be. Help them up, make sure they're okay and point out how there's no injury. Gravitate their attention to something else," you glanced back at her and tried to read her reaction.

This was how you raised Gregory. For whatever accident happened. You made sure not to baby him as much, and to show him ways to get back up. On the off chance you weren't around. It's how your parents had raised you, so you raised your little brother the same way.

She nodded and scribbled a few things onto her pad, "Well, consider yourself hired!" She immediately grabbed your hand and shook it.

Your air left your lungs in a gasp, “Really?” attempting to match the strength in her own handshake.

"Of course! Every interview I've had failed to give an honest answer. It's always, 'cradle them until they stop crying' or 'leave them there to cry until they stop', I was beginning to doubt I'd ever open this shop up!" her laughter raised into the ceiling.

"The position you're applying for is no daycare attendant, but to hire someone without at least that sort of experience? Right next to a daycare?" she waved her opposite hand, "Don't even get me started! I know I can confidently leave you here to handle any child. After your training period of course! If you can calm a kid down before the waterworks, you've made it!" her laughter died down as did her handshake.

Your mouth hung open in a smile, "Well-thanks! I owe it all to raising one!"

Her eyes widened a bit, and her hand stilled. "You're a parent…?" she asked as if it was the most otherworldly thing she'd ever heard.

"Oh—! No, no! I raised my younger brother!" you laughed.

She sighed a breath of relief. "Goodness—I was about to ask you for your skin routine!" You couldn't help the happiness constantly growing on your face.

Pansy wiped a tear from her eye, "Woo! What a hoot! Alright, what day are you able to start?" she asked, readjusting her glasses.

You stood there contemplating for a moment. In all honesty, you were ready to start then and there. You had been let go of your previous job due to seniority and having to make some cuts. Unfortunately, you were one of said cuts. A bit of worry seeped into your brain. What if they view you as too excited? Maybe a bit of a try-hard? You could wait until the shop was fully furnished. Or maybe the following day…tomorrow...yea!

“Tomorrow's good! But of course I can see the shop needs its products, so I don't mind waiting until it's all stocked up, whichever works best!"

Your manager's smile grew, "I'll notify you once the shops all settled in, we'll start easy. Just some managing the floor and customer service, how's that sound?"

You happily offered your hand, "Sounds like a plan, I look forward to it!" She matched your enthusiasm with a firm handshake. The second one of the meeting. "As do I. Welcome to the family!"

You felt something in your grasp once she let go. Your name tag. A pretty, holographic lenticular tag. Shifting it to the left would shine a sun, in the middle a calm eclipse, and to the left, a sleepy moon. You stared in awe at the exquisite piece of plastic. This was the most beautiful name tag you'd ever been given.

“We'll get this little guy properly labeled with your name in a second, love. Just need to remember where I left that pesky hand machine…” she mumbled the last sentence as she walked around the front desk to look for it. ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

"Moonie I simply must know!" Sun grunted as he tried reaching the daycare's front doors. His brother held him back without much struggle.

"We'll know in due time Sun. No need to pry for information," he chuckled.

Eclipse had started a game with the kids. A classic game of cops and robbers. Such a game in the daycare proved to exercise a kid's brain. With many places to hide such as the ball pit, jungle gyms, slides, cubbies, and so on, one had to get creative in this space. This time the attendants were playing the cops and the kids were the robbers. Caro and PeyPey had more luck than the lunar and solar triplets. Their smaller size proved useful in getting the stealthiest of kids. They'd started a system of chasing the kids out of hiding and straight into Eclipse's waiting arms.

"Come on Sun, don't you want to play with the kids? It's cops and robbers, one of your favorites,” Moon tried convincing his twin.

"But Moon! What if we never find out? What if they didn't get hired?" Sun whined in his brother's hold.

Moon sighed and reluctantly carried a protesting Sun to the game. "You had confidence earlier. Where has it gone?" The animatronic passed by the window, not thinking much of it.

"Oh hey it's the interviewee!" Caro exclaimed as she popped her head out of a jungle gym.

"Where?” Sun jumped out of Moon's hold with his eyes darting across the room.

"Out there, they're shaking hands with Pansy...I think I see something sparkly on their clothing," Eclipse added while carrying four giggling children.

His solar twin excitedly gasped and ran over to watch. What he said was very much true. There you were, talking with Pansy as if the two of you were old friends. A fresh name tag glistening below your smile.

"I can't thank you enough Pansy, thank you!" you exclaimed.

Your manager shook her head. "No, no—I should be thanking you! Two years this shop has been here—two years without a proper employee. You're doing wonders by just being you, love!" She smiled warmly.

You felt bashful and rubbed the back of your neck. "Aww, I'm glad we could help each other then! I look forward to being able to help in any way I can!"

She patted your back with vigor. "There we are! That's what I like to hear!"

Sun failed to notice bandmates and children crowding behind him to get a look at the new hire.

"They did it! I see their name tag!" Caro hollered from Eclipse's shoulder.

Moon nodded, impressed. "Huh, Look at that."

All comments fell on deaf ears. You did it. Finally they found someone competent enough to run the gift shop! Someone who's genuine—kind even! Sun couldn't contain his excited rays dancing about as he watched, resembling a puppy happily wagging its tail. He could see it now: his siblings and friends all palling around, with you in the middle! Catching up and having a swell time as you take your lunch break. Sun sighed at the thought.

Pansy turned curiously at all the muffled yelling. Her laughter got caught in her throat, "Oh! Would you look at that!"

Curious, you peered towards the direction she was looking in and gasped. Not only the animatronics, but the children as well had been watching you. Not knowing what else to do, you offered a small smile and waved. The crowd waved back with a muffled "Hi!" except for Sun. He stood there with his shoulders relaxed and smile tilted.

As you were about to take a step, he joyously screamed and launched himself away from the window. The kids erupting in laughter as Eclipse and Moon can be seen calling out to him in chase. Caro and PeyPey, still at the window, poofed themselves to their tallest height, herding the kids away from the front door.

Sun rushed out with a trail of smoke behind him. He was a foot away from you in an instant. "Hello there! My name is Sun! I'm one of five daycare attendants and a member of the Starlights band! Who might you be, dear?" he cheerily asked.

His height was alarming. You barely reached his chest. While his tone of voice was welcoming, and you couldn't help the anxious flips your stomach did when you briefly raised your eyes up to his. This was the performer who winked at you—a type of interaction you weren't used to. His charming transatlantic accent didn't do you any favors either. You quickly glanced at Pansy for guidance. The only guidance being a nod to go ahead.

Your name trailed out of your mouth awkwardly as you reached a hand out for Sun to shake. "A lovely name! An absolutely darling name!” He matched the same enthusiasm of Pansy’s.

His siblings caught up to him. "Sun! You can't just run off like that, we've got children to look after!" Eclipse scolded as he placed a hand on Sun's shoulder.

“Yes, just look at them all wiggling about in your absence." Moon observed once he reached the small crowd amongst you.

You peered past Sun's waist. The children had been trying to weave themselves through the other two attendants. So much so that you've noticed the two sprouted a second pair of arms just to manage the lot.

"I'm sorry…" you trailed off. You didn't mean to cause this much excitement.

Eclipse shook his head, "Think nothing of it. It's our brother's fault, truly. We really must go before they get any more restless," he admitted with a short bow. Pulling his solar brother by the arm with him to the daycare.

"We'll be seeing you around!" Sun called from Eclipse's grasp.

"Yes, sorry for the short introduction—I'm Moon, that one's Eclipse. The girl is Caro and the boy is PeyPey, the two there at the window," the lunar animatronic gave a small bow in turn. "We look forward to working with you, dear," rushing off to help get Sun back in.

You faintly heard Moon and Eclipse scolding their brother. Who in turn could only muster up "I couldn't help myself!" Your brain wracked against your skull. All three were charming, you had to admit. What with their manners, transatlantic accents, and just the way they carried themselves with each other.

Both Moon and Eclipse smacked Sun upside the head in a playful manner before running in through the front doors. The latter took this as an opportunity for a chase. From the window you could see the children and two human animatronics briefly pause their actions. All heads following Moon and Eclipse as they excitedly ran across from them. The crowd turned their heads to Sun. All of them caught momentum once they noticed the attendant had begun to go after them as well. The children shrilled in joy as the other two attendants joined. Scooping up any stragglers on the way.

Pansy burst out laughing once more. "Those five know how to liven things up around here. Get ready to see more of them, especially with their merchandise in the giftshop."

You sheepishly smiled, "Can't wait!” Your eyes glued to the window a few feet from you. Admittedly, you missed when Gregory was that small. Laughing at almost everything, getting excited over the smallest things. It made your heart feel warm. This must've been how your own parents felt when you yourself grew up. ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂☆⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

TAGLIST WEEE!! @cosmog-mcgee @antwithwaffles

End of chappie ooone :]!! I hope you guys liked it! I enjoyed writing it and my friend @by-the-chapel-gates did me a huge favor and was my beta reader!! I love her very much she are my booboobear :]💖💝!!!!💖💝THANK YOOOOUS💖💝Please leave your thoughts below!

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emilykaldwen · 1 day

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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Seventeen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

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Author's Note: We've got Rhaenyra POV! We've got Aemond POV! We've got a surprise in the end! Thank you for all the support and patience. You're all getting this chapter early since I'm out of town for the weekend! Enjoy!

PLEASE PLEASE subscribe to the series page or my author page so you get updates when we start the next story! You're not going to want to miss it. (And follow @emkald-fic on tumblr if you read here!)

All my love to @vampire-exgirlfriend for her love and support and holding my hand through this chapter that just kept kicking my fucking ass. If you need more Aemond content, you must read, They Say I killed You (Haunt Me Then)! Now complete! (epilogue going up soon!)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Parrying the Daggers Thrown At Us

Rhaenyra receives a letter. Aemond cannot find peace until he gets a taste of it.

Grandfather is still ill, much like we saw him last but he prefers his wheel chaired more oft than not…

Things have been tense, understandably so, but Queen Alicent has been cordial and has made sure we are comfortable and have what we need…

Aegon and Aemond keep their distance, perhaps so they can glare all the better…

I do not know how to make amends for what happened…

…and they say Aemond is taken by his pains at times, darkening his room as his head aches from his wound…

I should make amends, it is right…

What do you think I should do?...

Heleana has been the warmest…

…we danced together at the feast and she was quite happy to do so. It is nice spending time with her…

Aegon is happy around Lady Abrogail and she laughs freely with him. He is not like how he used to be as much with her…

I think Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin would be pleased to see how well she is treated…

Many houses were represented at Aegon’s nameday…

Most seemed to wonder if Aegon would have been named heir and displace you but none came to pass…

…they will inherit Harrenhal. I can see the wisdom in it as Luke will have Driftmark one day, but I think of Joffrey and Aegitsos and my uncles who do not have lands and holds to occupy them…

I love you much, Muñus, I hope you are well and that I will see you soon…

Rhaenyra ran her fingers over her son’s careful script, her mouth twitching in fondness amidst her worry of her zēapos. His letter was long, too much for a raven’s wings and she started from the beginning once she had read it through once. Twice. Her ribs ached as if Jace had been carved out of her to go on this journey and she shook her head, trying to let the feeling flit away on the breeze. Her eldest had a temper, much as she did in her youth, much as his father had, in the ways that drew her in. Time stole away much, and her own bouts of temper had cooled with each broken toy, each yelling fight, each ‘he pulled my hair!’ and ‘He pushed me and won’t share!’

The sounds of swords clanged in the yard and her gaze flitted from her son’s letter - pages crinkled in her grasp - to the courtyard below where Daemon was testing the new recruits to the Dragonstone guard. His silver hair was twisted back from his face in braids as he preferred, something about war and mindset and always be prepared.

He called something towards Joff and Aegitsos as the knight before him panted, having been bested against her husband.

Baela had not written, that much she knew, though Jace had said that she had found a friend in Helaena after a tense standoff. Rhaenyra had found the mention of it surprising, for her little sister, in the times she’d been around her, had been a quiet thing, eyes large in her face, gaze flitting to everyone and no one.

Helaena has been the warmest…

Helaena was not yet married. The match with Aegon had never come to pass.

The invitation lay on the table before her next to the plate of lemon cake she liked for her morning meal on days such as this.

The wedding of Prince Aegon of House Targaryen and Lady Abrogail Strong of Harrenhal…

In five moons, the spectacle would be held in the Riverlands. In five moons, the realm would look upon her brother once more, peacocked and pulled out, as Daemon sneered, by Otto Hightower to show him off as a contender, to put pressure on her father to change his mind. Her father had nearly twenty years to change his mind and still, he had not. Not even in her absence, cowardly as it sometimes felt to retreat and lick her wounds, had her father’s support of the claim and her family seemed to waver. Try as the Hightowers might to scream and spread slanders that would call for bloodshed, her father still would not be swayed. It was the sense of satisfaction that she had felt when he came to her defense in that shadowed hall those years ago, the heated of curl in it that no matter what, there could be no question as to his choice.

He had chosen her.

Even as the feeling waned over time to give over to those moments where she doubted, all the times he had failed to reign his wife in with her abuses and vitriol, the words her son had sent her bolstered her.

I think Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin would be pleased…

Harwin’s little sister, big blue eyes and red curls bound in braids, peeking curiously over the edge of Lucerys’ cradle next to Jace because ‘She asked if she could see the baby and give him this,’ Harwin had said, as the little girl presented her attempts at embroidering a little dragon on a pillow. Little Abrogail, half Harwin’s, half Alicent’s. She had tried to bring the girl to Dragonstone with them. Would she not be happier away from the court politics with her brother and the quiet? Lord Lyonel had given her a surprised, then hard look, and Rhaenyra had felt chastened in a way her own father had never been able to evoke within her.

“I will keep my daughter with me, and should I send her away, it will be back to her home, at Harrenhal, with her brother.”

Grief washed through her like the crashing of the waves on the rocky shore below and she felt her own jagged edges inside of her. Lyonel Strong had been the best of them, putting the realm first, always by her side at every council meeting she attended, encouraging her, even as his face grew graver with each brunette curled boy she bore.

Violet eyes swept across the parchment again. A servant in the camp had tried to attack the girl, Jace said. Crept into her tent, assuming she would have been alone. Inquiries were being made, but as far as anyone could see, the man had just been a baseborn servant - blending in like no other. Rhaenyra pursed her lips and looked down at the training yard once more, fingers drumming along the stone ledge of the terrace.

She wondered how wrapped around Lady Abrogail’s finger her half-brother might be… and how opportune this moment was.

Alicent’s eldest was marrying and taking a seat in the Riverlands. It was not the bold choice that Rhaenyra had thought would happen. Surely one of the many Lannister girls, or one of the Baratheons - a great house who would be invested in their own daughter becoming queen would have made more sense.

Harrenhal, for the wealth and lands that it had, did not command armies the way the Stormlands did. It did not have endless coffers the way Casterly Rock boasted of. It was a moody fortress on the edge of the God’s Eye, surrounded by lush farmland and woods that were dark and deep and felt that you were somewhere fanciful, somewhere that didn’t hold dragons nor thrones, nothing except for a warm hand wrapped around her own.

The clashing and screaming of steel in the yard below pulled Rhaenyra from her thoughts, and away from the path of her sorrows and regrets. Turning her back to the sight below, she reached for her own parchment and quill, pushing aside the letter from Lord Celtigar.

Lady Abrogail… Good tidings on news of your approaching nuptials…

Aemond pursed his lips, his gaze rising from the book before him, a study on the Conqueror’s approach to the first Dornish war,to squint across the barrel room near the top of the tower that held the library in the Holdfast. He drummed his fingers upon the scarred wooden table, a fingertip running along the crescent burn from the time Abby had accidentally knocked over a candle while they were reading about Harren the Black.

He exhaled slowly, the way the Braavosi manuals advised and looked back at his book.

It had been weeks since his brother’s festivities, and the chill of the end of the growing season had crept in. It was not cold by northern standards, but the air cooled, the rains rolled in for the next several months, and angry storms fell over them from the Narrow Sea, their winds piercing and frightening, as if they were dragons themselves in the winds that the Storm God rode, threatening to tear apart the Red Keep brick by brick.

Helaena’s nameday had passed with quiet fanfare, the lingering lords of the realm who had not left parading their sons in front of his maiden sister. As if any of them were worthy of a dragonrider, someone as clever and kind as Helaena.

It had been complicated over the past weeks since the talk in the garden, and Aemond still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt. What had been most surprising had been the strange sense of release when his sister let him go, leaving him to sit in the rain before Visenya’s statue, her words ringing in his ears.

‘I would burn Dorne for you… but I do not want to leave behind a world of ash and bone.’

How desperate Helaena had looked, angry and frightened and full of hope as she begged not to have a husband, but a brother back. ‘How else am I supposed to protect her?' he had wondered. How else could he offer his sister protection and security if it wasn’t to marry her, to tie her to him so that she would never have to fear, never have to doubt her acceptance and those who loved her?

Aegon had not wanted to marry her. She was weird, he’d sneered. How miserable Helaena would be, how miserable they both would have been. Aemond had done the right thing. He’d stepped up, he had gotten Mother and The Tower to break the betrothal. Even if they had not promised him and Helaena to one another, that was alright, it would simply be a matter of time.

He had Vhagar. There could be no further doubt that he was truly a Valyrian. There could be no more doubt as to his place in the world. All that was left was his sister.

Guilt gnawed deep in his stomach, shame twisting around his throat when the thought filtered through. Helaena was not a bauble he needed to collect to prove something. Collecting her was not protecting her. Collecting her was not about her, but for him, and it was this knowledge that he had thought about constantly.

His sister deserved more than being a broodmare, to be a pawn in the games. The forced distance the last few weeks had given him, after Helaena pushed him from the proverbial nest, had left him unsettled and snappish.

The loud thud of a book hitting the stone floor reverberated through the room. A heavy tome, judging from the heft of the sound, followed by a soft giggling, a deeper snickering sound chasing after it before they muffled and fell quiet.

He knew, with the utmost certainty, why it had fallen quiet.

Ever since the betrothal, the grip on his best friend had been slipping. Oh, him and Abrogail were an unlikely pair, but few appreciated books and history as his cousin did. While digging in the dirt and helping Helaena catalog her collection had been fulfilling, there was something joyous in being able to have someone who understood the quiet and sanctity of the library, and who loved books and reading and learning as he did. Lyonel Strong had always indulged his questions when was young - far more enthralling than Mellos and Orwyle were, and he had fostered that curiosity in his daughter.

‘All she’s going to care about is making babies with Aegon!’ Helaena had cried, frustrated and angry when they’d been alone after the fight in the brothel.

There was a soft cry, and Aemond scowled at his book before his chair scraped across the stone floor and he strode purposefully towards the source of the sound. The histories of the Riverlands were there - not just observational books, but the census, the trade information, things used by the small council’s not-quite-so-small army of clerks and counters and lawmakers. The section of the library that Abby had frequented since the announcement and that he had helped her with.

“Not here,” came the whispered whine, laced with laughter. Aemond rolled his eye as he turned the corner of the aisle. It was shadowed somewhat this far down, The strategically polished silver angled to bounce the light around so as not to pose a fire risk among the precious books, although the day was gray and cloudy and the light reflected was that of a lamp. Abby was pressed against the bookshelves, the blue and silver brocade of her skirts rucked up with her stockings on display, her legs at present, wrapped around his stupid brother’s waist. One arm was stretched out to grab onto the bookshelf behind her, and the fallen book that had been in its place was still on the ground. Aegon’s face was buried into her chest, or maybe her throat?

He was half-blind, after all, sometimes details could be mercifully missed. Or ignored.

“This,” Aemond said, his voice even and dripping with every ounce of annoyance and betrayal he felt, “is the library, not a brothel.”

Aemond’s fists clenched at the disrespect both of them displayed to a place they knew was important to him. At the announcement of his presence, Abby squeaked, Aegon’s arms tightening around her as she scrambled to lower herself without sending them both toppling. He held his arms folded behind his back, his hand scraping along his elbow as the pair of them got themselves in order and he shook his head when Aegon looked at him, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. Abby had turned to straighten her gown.

“Are you really going to act like this?” Aegon said, for it was barely a question. “We weren’t in front of you and your book. You were the one seeking us out.”

“Because you both weren’t as quiet as you thought you were,” Aemond snapped. “It was distracting.”

A lazy smirk crossed across his brother’s flushed face and he wanted to punch him square in his stupid nose. Let him kiss his future wife with his face bashed in. “Well, my lady is distracting-.” There was a soft sound as Abby smacked Aegon’s shoulder, cutting him off with an exaggerated ow, the flinch was nowhere near the violent response that inhabited his brother when it was their mother doing the hitting. She peered around Aegon’s shoulder, her mouth just as swollen, her cheeks just as flushed and her features apologetic.

“We’re sorry, Aemond. Things just got out of hand. I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t you apologize,” Aegon interrupted her this time, a fierce look on his face.

“No, actually,” Aemond cut in, taking a step forward, using the few inches he now had on his brother to straighten his shoulders. “She’s right. Thank you, Abby, for apologizing. Are you upset that she has to apologize for you, since your self-awareness is worse than a billy goat ramming his head into things?”

Aegon’s mouth gaped in offense, his flush deepening. There was a bruise along his neck that was going to be difficult to hide. The glib nature of his eldest brother was a trial at the best of times, but this? “You know this isn’t your place to run about as you please. Shall I just unlock my doors, let you roll around in my sheets and over my personal things while you’re at it?”

“It’s the fucking library, Aemond. It doesn’t belong to you-”

Abby let out a startled cry as Aemond’s fist shot out, but as much as he would love to punch his brother, he shoved him instead, feeling the crackling of frustration, the rumble of Vhagar in his chest. “Because it’s all yours, is that it? You mewling fucking kitten. This isn’t just my library, it’s hers too, but you don’t fucking care about anything that means something to anyone else if it gets in the way of what your limp cock wants.”

“Aemond, truly, we’re sorry - Aegon, no!” Abby’s voice was lost in Aegon’s growl as his brother came back with another shove, sending him back a few steps. Aemond laughed, a hint of a sound like the thin scrape of wind whistling through a crack. Yes, yes let the idiot push him around. Let him continue to pull his friend away from him, from him and Helaena both. His gaze darted briefly to the redhead, blue eyes wide as she pressed herself back against the shelves, before meeting his brother’s lighter gaze.

“You are a glib fucking fool, Aegon,” Aemond said lowly, his mouth curling as he readied for a fight, needing to expend the burn of flame inside of him. “I don’t care what the pair of you do, I’ll say nothing should Mother hear of it, but-” he stepped forward and shoved Aegon hard into the bookstack. The ancient wood creaked and groaned, but the stacks were bolted to the floor to prevent them from topping. A few books fell from the force of Aegon’s frame smacking into it. “Stay the hell out of my library.”

He did not look over his shoulder, even as Abby called his name, apology rife in her tone. He strode through the halls, calling for his horse to be saddled while he went to angrily pull on his riding leathers. The left side of his temple ached as it was wont to do when his face was full of tension. Helaena would make him tea, protect him in the quiet, but that was not meant to be today. The last he saw, his sister was in the gardens with Jacaerys.

How he ached to wring the stupid bastard’s neck.

How bright he seemed to make Helaena laugh.

How betrayed Aemond felt by it all.

Why hadn’t Helaena said anything? Why hadn’t she told him that she didn’t want to be married? Why had she just let him wander around like a puppy and now left the fool?

‘But hadn’t she told you?’ a little voice drifted through Aemond’s mind and he paused in the lacing of his leathers. Had she not told him by pursuing that fool Warren Fossoway, and the time that he had spied her kissing him - for he had seen Helaena push the squire behind the carved dragon pillar by the gardens.

‘But she would let me kiss her, she would kiss me, and she’d touch me and I her and-’ The flurry of thoughts ached as he pulled on his boots.

It would not hurt as much if it was anyone but Jacaerys.

The ride to the beach beneath the shadow of the Red Keep was a blur. The rock outcropping of Aegon’s High Hill was a craggy, sheer thing, but the beach below was one that Vhagar enjoyed sunning herself, a guard dog laying at the foot of the bed in a way. Her head lifted as Aemond approached, lowing in greeting and shaking sand from her scales. The tension in Aemond’s chest began to ease at the sight of her, and he approached, patting a gloved hand along her scarred neck, scratching along a vicious scar she must have received in Dorne. There were no words exchanged, not the way Aegon chattered with Sunfyre. Aemond’s bond with Vhagar was one of feeling, of such deep understanding that no words needed to spill from him. In no time, he scaled her great bulk and yelled out the command to fly, which his dragon responded with her own, what he assumed was excited, call in return.

Vhagar landed on the cliffs on the western side of Massey’s Hook, the bay below dotted with smaller fishing boats this far out from King’s Landing and away from the bustle of the capital. Rage and grief, anger and fear were a tempest in his gut and he rankled at the call of Moondancer as his cousin circled above them.

If Baela wanted this fight, then he would meet her, unflinching. Let her see what dragons were made of. They did not all reside on Dragonstone.

“Laodijes peldios!” Baela howled at him, her voice a sharp shout on the breeze, her face twisted and ugly with fury, fists at her side as she readied herself to hit him should he get within reach.

Aemond glared at her, the distance between them shrunk now to an arm length. Vhagar was a great shadow behind him and he could feel the sulfuric heat of her breath as she exhaled buffeting at his back. Moondancer was a little ways away, shrieking fearfully and Aemond could not tell if the dragon reflected her rider’s mood, or her fear of Vhagar.

“You’re a fucking fool. Daemon Targaryen is your father, your mother a Velaryon, and you still don’t realize that a dragon cannot be stolen.”

“You had no fucking right!” Baela snarled. “Vhagar was for Rhaena to claim-”

“If Vhagar had not wanted me, she would have eaten me and you damn well know it.” Aemond cut her off, watching her jaw click shut with a curl of satisfaction. “Vhagar chose me, not your sister. What? You want to kill me to give her another chance at claiming her? Is that what you’re here? To finish the job that you all started?”

“Why would my mother’s dragon choose you?” Balea cried, and this time, there was a choked quality to her rage. Aemond’s eye widened slightly and he leaned back from her, a curl of uncertainty that he despised. His words had been harsh, full of the anger that he had felt simmering these past years. Aemond shrugged it off. He had earned his harshness in this. He’d been the one attacked, the band of them setting upon him simply because he chose to claim his right as a Valyrian prince.

‘Why would my mother’s dragon choose you?’

Aemond ran his tongue over his teeth and leaned back on his foot, watching Baela gasp for air amidst her choking sobs, and turn from him to look out to the bay, towards Driftmark and High Tide.

He remembered his mother’s cries, her rage, her such careful and elegant control snapping as her voice cracked in the silence of the Hall of Nine.

“He’s your son, Viserys.”

“Why did Moondancer choose you?” Aemond asked. “Why did Moondancer choose you, and my egg never hatched?” Baela did not look at him but he could see the way her shoulders tensed. “Why didn’t you go find the guards? Why did you come, thinking a thief had stolen a dragon and Jacaerys brought his blade? Why did they give me a pig, pretending they had found me a dragon as they both had their own? Why did they do nothing but terrorize me with that fact for our childhoods?”

Aegon had done it too, gone in on the fun, drunk on being the eldest. It had lessened considerably in the wake of Rhaenyra leaving the capital, even if his brother sought other ways to tease him - he’d never again mentioned his lack of dragon.

Aegon had come to him in his sick bed, his curls shorn, red eyed and puffy faced, tears on his cheeks, had knelt at his bedside and vowed to him.

“We protect our own and I did not protect you. I do not care if you’ve claimed Vhagar, for I was not there for you when you needed me. It will never happen again. I will protect you. I will be by your side.”

Aemond had sometimes wondered how much of the words were his brother’s own, but he had known, with certainty, that the feelings were genuine. His brother was an idiot, and they butted heads, but his brother loved him in his own way, and for as angry as Aegon could make him, he loved him too. In his own way.

He might admit that on his deathbed, unlike Aegon, who would only need to be in the depths of his cups and into the sad and tearful mourning edge.

“What do you know, Baela?” Aemond said, his voice even, coldness creeping along the edges. “Of fighting and scraping for everything that is owed to you?” He forcefully bit his tongue, copper exploding in his mouth as he broke skin, to keep from pressing further at the loss of her birth right to Driftmark for Rhaenyra’s folly.

“A prince has to scrape for all that is owed to him.” It was rhetorical, biting, and Aemond snorted, taking a step forward, his own gaze looking out at the water.

“You may have been an idiot child, but don’t play me for a fool.” It was impossible not to see how little Viserys thought of his second family, and he had seen it plainly on Jacaerys’ face, the surprise in witnessing it. “I’m sure your father relishes every word you send to him. His little spy.”

Baela’s lip curled in a snarl and she stalked closer. Aemond stayed where he was, watching her with a narrowed eye as Vhagar let out a low growl behind him. She did not move, did not lift her head, but her nostrils flared and Aemond felt the heat of her breath swirl around him. Baela’s eyes widened, and she paused, the indigo of them shining with tears.

He turned his head slightly to look at Vhagar. “Ȳgha iksi,” he reassured her, feeling Vhagar’s displeasure seeping through him, her warning and the remembered rage from those years ago when she could not protect him or take away his pain. He reached for her snout, pressing his hand to the scar above her left nostril, rubbing against it. He turned his back to his cousin and brought his other hand up, feeling the anger hot as coals, hot as dragonfire in his chest. Vhagar was full of tension. He could feel it. Would she feel that way if it wasn’t him? If she was not so worried for him, would she recognize the girl behind him as the child that Laena Velaryon surely brought to her, as Aemond would have brought his own child? Had his grandfather, Baelon, brought his sons to this dragon before them?

The silence filled the air around them, the wind thick with tension. Aemond pressed his forehead to Vhagar, took strength from her, squeezed his eye shut and ignored the pain that lanced through his head and pulsed behind his scar.

The sob behind him was soft, and Moondancer’s cry was mournful.

“He’s your son, Viserys.”

“I did not mean to tarnish your mother’s memory,” Aemond finally spoke, his voice carrying as he looked, blind side towards Baela. “It was not done to hurt you, or to take something from you. It was… It was my only chance. And it’s something I don’t think you’ll ever be able to understand. I am… I am sorry about the loss of your mother. I did not have the opportunity to give you my condolences then, but I can give them to you now.”

The sound Baela made was strangled. Aemond turned to look at her. Baela was stiff beneath her red and black riding leathers, the metal rings in her hair tinkling as the wind tugged at her braids. He recalled the mourning child she had been sitting by her twin and Jace, the vicious yell she’d let out when she punched him in the nose that night, the howls and scream of pain. He felt Vhagar twitch and groan beneath his touch, another warning and he hushed her again, stroking her snout. He watched her gaze go towards Moondancer, who was crying fitfully, grounded still, her aquamarine wings more green against the lush grass of the clifftop.

“Do you want to pet her?”

Baela stared at him, the hostile lines to her face instantly slacking in surprise. “Skoro syt?” Her voice was small and wary, even as her eyes were wide with grief.

“My condolences,” Aemond repeated, and he found the words genuine. It was not Baela, nor her sister, or even his bastard nephews that rankled him. Oh, he wanted his revenge, He wanted what was due, but more of the blame lay with his eldest sister and their father. Of that, Aemond was secure in. He would gladly feed them both to Vhagar, to take an eye as payment for his mother.

His cousin shifted on her booted feet before whatever compelled her brought her forward. Aemond shifted, beckoning her to take her place by his side as he murmured words to Vhagar. Baela had taken her glove off, her slim, tanned hand reaching tentatively up before resting along the scar on Vhagar’s nostril.

They stood there for how long, Aemond was not sure, quietly beside one another as Baela grieved for the mother at the bottom of the Narrow Sea, and his own grief at what was taken from him.

“Do not mourn me, mother…”

‘But mourn the boy dead on Driftmark.’

It was not lightness or peace that settled over Aemond when he and his cousin parted later. He was not certain how much time had passed, only that after she had sobbed, they sat there in a strange, companionable silence eating hunks of bread and cheese and apple that Baela cut with a wicked blade. She did not give him thanks, she did not say anything, but Aemond took the offering of shared food as her own gesture of whatever truce was settled between them. The exchanged curt nods before parting, Baela northeast and away from the city to what Aemond assumed was High Tide and her grandmother and twin, while he circled back towards the city.

Aemond was not certain of the feeling he held except that it felt like he had scratched something out on a list, or deposited a burden that he was trying to carry with all his other, more cumbersome burdens. It was a closed door. That was enough for Aemond, and there was a part of him that wanted to march to his sisters and tell them that he had made nice, to have Abby’s warm smile proud with him, and Helaena’s little clap and promptly being the receiver of her latest mountain spider that Uncle Rodrik had brought her.

Instead, after entering the inner courtyard of the Red Keep and handing off his horse to one of the stablehands, he made his way to the gardens and to his own preferred solitude when the library - so recently desecrated - was not an option. No, Aemond needed air, he needed the statue of Visenya to look down upon him. There, where Helaena had snipped the strings and released him from the vow he had made, the goal that held him that was more about him than it truly was about her.

Where his sister had set him free, and he loved her all the more for it.

The problem, he found, upon striding down the paved path and through the dripping ivy, was that his garden was not, in fact, as empty as he hoped. Wylla Karstark was kneeled in front of a bush of hyacinths, carefully cutting the purple blooms and placing them in a basket beside her. She was clad in a dove gray dress, the black fabric of her kirtle beneath poking out through slashes along her shoulders and puffed at her elbows. Her fox features were pinched in concentration and Aemond watched her for a moment, silent as she had clearly not heard his approach.

Wylla Karstark was an unknown. She was pretty enough, with a long nose and sharp jaw, gray eyes that flashed when she was annoyed, which was the majority of the time. She had a rather frustrating talent of being able to look down at him even as she had to arch her neck, for she was as petite as Abby was. Their joint misfortune, just like Aegon’s. She was also well read, their conversation at the feast turning from a mutual annoyance to discussing the book of poetry that he had seen her reading, which itself had turned into a rather long and in depth conversation on the Valyrian poet, Praxilla, whose work had survived by the grace of her living the life of leisure in Lys when the Doom happened. Wylla and his elder brother unknowingly shared a fondness for drinking songs penned by the scribe, although Aemond was smart enough to know he shouldn’t bring that up.

Not until he needed to.

“It is polite to speak when coming upon someone, Your Grace,” Wylla’s northern burr was arch as she focused on her task. “I would curtsy, but you can see I’m already on my knees.”

Aemond’s cheeks flushed at the turn of her words, and he was not certain if she understood how they could be taken. He decided that she didn’t, for she did not turn to look at him, seemingly unbothered. All for the best, he supposed, for Aemond did not think he could meet her gaze should she be facing him.

“Why are you cutting my flowers?”

“Your flowers, Your Grace?” Wylla laughed, a sharp, lilting sort of sound and he wondered if that’s what she sounded like when she sang. Did she sing? He had not asked her. “These flowers belong to Queen Visenya, for it is her garden, is it not?”

“It is my garden,” he pushed back, frowning at the back of her head, the mass of thick, twisted black braids kept in place with a woven, pearl hair net with wicked looking, pearl tipped hair pins to keep the heaviness of it in place. He flexed his hands, wiping them on his riding leathers as he approached. There were other flowers in her basket, like wisteria and some of the roses from the main garden. He sat, bending his one leg to rest an arm on while the other reached in.

Up close, he could see the red flush to her pale cheeks. He did not recall them looking so red when he saw her the day before, outside of the bit of sun all the girls had gotten during the sun.

Her smack was quick, the sound of flesh stinging flesh loud and he immediately pulled back with a hiss and a glare. “How dare-”

“Those aren’t for you,” Wylla said forcefully, the gray eyes of her bright in her face as she finally looked at him. “They’re for Lady Abrogail.”

Aemond had killed a man for the fox-faced woman before him without hesitation, and the knowledge of it settled in him still, generally buried over the past few weeks because he had no idea what to do about it. They’d been attacked in the night, and Wylla Karstark had shoved a knife between the man’s ribs without hesitation. So tall, Wylla Karstark seemed, so loud, filling up the spaces she was in without holding herself back, that he had so often forgotten how small she was.

Until she was there, in front of him, those gray eyes like the storm ridden ocean.

Aemond held her gaze, reaching back into the basket to pluck one of the deep purple, nearly blue anemones that she had gathered, twirling it idly between his long fingers before reaching up to tuck it behind her ear. Wylla was still beside him, her red painted mouth parted slightly, so he could see the flash of her white teeth behind it. Her cheeks deepend in their red to match the paint on her lips and Aemon hummed.

Abby had been understandably shaken. Knowing her as long as he did, even with the smiles affixed to her face, he knew the signs as intimately as he understood Helaena’s or Aegon’s, or his own mother’s. Wylla Karstark was a mystery. She had been quiet, from what he had seen, but the wedding preparations had taken up much time with the girls, as well as her brother finally leaving the capital earlier that week.

He clenched his jaw, a muscle ticking, before he met her gaze. “Are you alright?”

Her inhale was loud. It trembled and she pressed her red lips together, her throat bobbing with a swallow and looked back at the flowers but did not move to cut anymore. Aemond did not push her, but only waited.

“Yes? No? Strangely yes,” she finally whispered. “I think that’s what bothers me more.”

“That bastard came in with intent to harm,” Aemond said. “If you didn’t kill him, someone else would have. You were incredibly brave.” None knew where he’d come from. The assailant had been clad in the same red garb as the rest of the servants. A baseborn man. Waters or Storm, Aemond couldn’t remember, much like he had no memory of the man’s face before he stared down at it, red and wheezing before he killed him.

“At least it wasn’t Aegon,” Wylla whispered, her eyes wide, drawing his attention back to her. “What would have that turned into - him sneaking in for them to slobber all over each other. Me thinking he was an attacker and-”

The snort of laughter that escaped Aemond at the idea of it all could not be held back. He bent his head, gasping for air as his shoulders shook and it was only a moment before Wylla’s own peel of laughter joined his. It had been some weeks since he’d laughed, in the wake of what happened at the hunt drying up what little humor he’d indulged in. There was an infectious quality to Wylla Karstark’s amusement that he found comforting. Aemond looked at her, her face flushed from her laughter, and he leaned in, kissing her.

The laughter abruptly stopped, her mouth soft against his, still from her clear surprise. She tasted like oranges. Abby must have indulged in the sweet and sour orange cakes they had at the feast. Wylla did not respond, but she didn’t move away either and Aemond took that as acceptance, and he lifted his hand to cup her cheek, thumb swiping softly against the apple of it. Kisses with Helaena had been different - always expected, always ready, with her initiating many of them. The one time he’d kissed Abby, when they were little and Jace had dared him to, did not count. The both of them had made faces, vowing to never do it again.

Kissing Wylla, though? He never wanted to stop, especially not when she reached up, the clippers making a soft thump along the grass to wrap around the end of the braid slung over his shoulder. She tugged it gently and Aemond broke away, blinking and gasping. “What?” he asked. “Should I have not done that?”

“Oh, you should have,” she reassured him, breathless and red faced. She licked her lips and looked at her fingers still wound around his braid, toying with the leather tie. “I was just reminded of something someone told me once.”

He cocked his head, mouth pursed. “What was it?”

The smile that cut across Wylla’s face was amused, the scar along the top of her lip giving a mischievous bend to her small, red mouth. “It was about how dragons purr when you pull their hair.”

Whatever thought started to coalesce about her late night conversation with his sisters was pushed right out when her lips found his.

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#my fic #hotd tag #house of the dragon #hotd fic #hotd oc #fyeahgotoc #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon x oc #aegon ii targaryen fic #aegon targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen #baela targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #oc: abrogail strong #aegon x abby #abrogon #otp: do not go far from me #man tagging is so annoying

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