#and now it's gone and you barely had one last time in it' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

escelia · 2 days

Text

New Sibling Just Dropped

Or Danny gets willingly isekai'd into the DCU and gets a twin out of it.

I know I disappeared from the face of the earth for a bit there, and there's stuff I should probably be updating, but I come baring different stuff this time :D

Just started this for fun, and I have at least one other chapter of it done, but idk how long this bout of inspiration will last, so I'm just rolling with it for now.

@flamingpudding look! i pulled a jason todd and rose from the grave!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny was tired. The kind of tired you felt behind your eyes and in your bones, and weighed heavy with achievement. He was perched on the edge of a building in his ghost form looking over Amity Park with a soft smile as he watched Youngblood run through the park with human children, Cujo playfully on their heels. His galaxy cloak (which had been a coronation gift) billowed around his lap like a gas with stars twinkling inside.

It had been a few years now since he took up the Crown of Fire and became High King of the Infinite Realms, and while he had accomplished many things since then, graduating from high school wasn't something on that list. It sucked that he wouldn't get to walk across the stage with Sam and Tucker, but in the face of all he'd been able to do for both Amity and the Infinite Realms, it was worth it. They coexisted now. There was still trouble every now and then, but Danny had helped the ghosts who insisted on staying in Amity Park find a place in their city where they could thrive.

Youngblood watched over the children of the city, Box Ghost started a box recycling center, Lunch Lady started a program to get food to families that couldn't afford it, and Pointdexter started reporting bullying at the school since he was already there.

On the Realms' side, Danny shut down Walker's prison. Since it was his lair, he couldn't take it away from him completely, but it no longer housed the many ghosts the warden had considered "rule breakers." He'd given Walker a new set of rules to enforce and essentially took him under his wing as a royal soldier, kept under the close watch of Fight Knight, who'd defected from Pariah Dark so fast after his defeat that it was laughable.

He'd done something similar with Skulker, though he was a harder case to crack. Unlike Walker, who was happy as long as he had a set of rules to enforce, Skulker wanted to keep hunting. He'd been recruited forcefully by Walker and Fright Knight after they caught him on his way to fight Danny again.

All in all, everything had begun to run smoothly now. The fatigue weighing on him reminded him that it had been hard to accomplish, and continuing to lead his double life hadn't made it any less exhausting. A cold breath rushed through his chest as he felt a familiar presence slide up next to him.

"You didn't time out," Danny pointed out without looking to face the ghost beside him. Clockwork hummed in acknowledgment.

"Sometimes it's pleasant to watch time flow in person." It was Danny's turn to hum at him.

"How are you feeling?" The Ancient asked thoughtfully. The younger ghost tilted his head pensively.

"It's hard to say. I'm tired, but I'm happy. And also sad..." he paused to gather his thoughts. "I feel like I've done everything I needed to."

But not everything he wanted to do.

"Go on," Clockwork pressed. The teenager did turn his head now to make a face at his mentor. If the guy knew how he felt and what he was going to say, why would he say it out loud? But the other just arched a brow at him and waited.

"Fine," he pouted. "I've spent so much time and energy finding places for everyone here. The GIW are gone, my parents stopped hunting ghosts, Jazz got into the psychology program at Stanford, Sam and Tucker are graduating today... I helped make that happen, I know I did! But they're moving on without me. They're growing up and I don't feel like I am."

'I don't feel like I'm ready.'

Danny stopped to take a breath and wipe away the icy tears gathering in his eyes. He felt stupid for crying over it. He was 17 for Ancients' sake! Jazz would have told him he grew up too fast, but he still felt like a child. He had no idea what he was doing! And yet! And yet... he felt...

"But you also feel ancient, right? Like you've been around too long and seen too much?" Clockwork said as though he were reading from a script. Danny sulked. Stupid time ghost with his dumb Time Stream TV or whatever.

"Yeah..."

"All Ancients feel that way. Though you may be feeling unbalanced in more ways than one because of how young you died and the fact you are half human."

"What do you mean?" Danny turned his whole body to face him now, tucking his knees under his chin and circling his arms around them. His cloak moved with him in inky black wisps and settled around him again like clouds of galaxies.

Clockworks form shifted to that of a child.

"You feel young because you died young. However, it is the nature of humans to grow and change. While you may have died at 14, your childhood died before that. You yearn to grow and learn, while also being an incredibly powerful Ancient."

He supposed that made sense. He recalled all the years cleaning the lab before the portal had even been built, and the fighting and neglect (Jazz's words, not his) that spawned his disdain of Christmas even longer before. He wanted to go back to school. He wanted a reason to love Christmas. He wanted pets and family dinners that didn't come alive. He wanted to grow up properly.

"But you still want to help people," the ghost said as though Danny had been talking out loud or having his mind read.

"I hate it when you do that," Danny complained. Clockwork just smiled smugly.

"I know." He laughed at the glare Danny threw him.

"I have a proposition for you," the older ghost began. Danny perked up in intrigue. "I know of another earth dimension with some problems that need to be addressed. Your role as High King puts you in a position to be helpful."

"Their problem has to do with the Realms?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Ectoplasm from the Realms is pooling into what are referred to on their planet as Lazarus Pits. They are both helpful and harmful as they do not dissipate into the air so they continually collect and concentrate emotion, but they do sometimes revive the dead."

Danny grimaced in disgust at the thought of dunking a person into a stagnant pool of contaminated ectoplasm. "That sounds disgusting."

"Quite," Clockwork agreed.

"So what's your proposition?"

"Well, if it is agreeable to you, I would like to de-age your physical form and place you with a family that's had dealings with the Pits firsthand. I've found them to be quite charming."

"Ah, so you want me to go in undercover?" Danny couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. It wasn't a half bad idea. He could try his hand at childhood again and still get to handle his duties as King Phantom. Leading a double life again would be easy enough, it was just stepping from one role into another.

"Not at all." Clockwork smiled knowingly. Danny was officially suspicious of his ghost guardian. "This planet has had all kinds of dealings with the occult, and even humans with superpowers isn't that unusual. While I would advise against telling anyone you are a king right away, you are in fact just that: a king. You may do what you wish."

For an ancient and wise time ghost, Danny thought Clockwork was really shit at hiding his expressions. Though he tried to keep the grin off his face, Danny could clearly see the twitching of his lips and gleam in his eyes that promised the old man was scheming.

But to get his childhood back. Or, at least a semblance of one... it deserved consideration. Danny looked back out at the cityscape again. Sam and Tucker... they were down there graduating from high school without him. He'd been the one to encourage them to pull away from Team Phantom activities to zero in on their studies, but he didn't regret it. Sam wanted to major in environmental science and Tucker wanted to go to MIT and he just didn't fit into those plans. After Jazz left for Stanford, his parents often forgot he was still there. He'd managed to convince them to study ghosts properly instead of hunting them, and with a little help from the "friendly ghost King Phantom" they were given a place to start. They dove into their research with the same excitement and fervor they'd had all their lives. Which of course meant he went days, sometimes weeks, without seeing them emerge from the lab. It was easy enough to slip past them to the portal while they were distracted.

The point was that he'd started to feel his anchor to this city, to this realm, start to dissipate as the people who kept him there started to break away from him. He still loved them, wanted to protect them, but they were safe and happy now. He felt fulfilled in his task of protecting them, but there was a buzzing beneath his skin to do more.

Danny took a deep and controlled breath. He didn't need it in his ghost form, but it felt good to feel his lungs stretch to fullness.

"When would I start?" He asked finally. The straight face Clockwork had been trying to keep, and he really was so bad at it, finally broke into a wide grin.

"Right now. Everything is already in place and your duties in the Realms will be taken care of in your absence."

Danny smiled softly at his guardian. Clockwork sure had a funny way of showing it, but he cared so deeply for the boy next to him that when Danny responded with a bad pun, he couldn't even be annoyed.

"Well, no time like the present!" He winked.

Clockwork chuckled, and with a flash of light, he sent Danny on his way.

The more time the older ghost spent with his young ward, the more he appreciated him. The Danny he’d come to know was nothing like the Danny’s from other worlds he’d encountered while trying to prevent Dan from existing. His Danny was now truly one of a kind. None of the others, not even the ones that eventually turned into Dan, had been Ancients. There would never be another Danny like him, and every universe was adjusting to include him should he ever decide to visit them. He had a place in any world, should he choose, but Clockwork knew he was needed most in the one he’d sent him to. It would be truly entertaining to watch the young Ancient settle into his role there, and Clockwork was actually finding himself looking forward to it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was dark and quiet a long while before Danny opened his eyes. And when he did open them it got really loud and really bright really fast. It belatedly occurred to him that he should have asked like a billion more questions before agreeing to be iseaki’d into a different dimension to join a family he knew literally nothing about.

There was shouting before someone in what looked like a ninja cult uniform shoved a knife into his hand and pushed him in the path of a person in a different uniform. The man in front of him was dressed in blue and black and wearing a mask that covered his eyes, but Danny could see the surprised shape of his mouth before it morphed into something like anger. And then he was being lunged at.

He shrieked as he dodged out of the way. Not his most graceful save, but whatever. His voice was a bit shrill and his center of gravity felt way off. He must have actually been de-aged! He wondered how old he was now. He still felt light on his feet thanks to his ghost half which felt blessedly intact. But the other guy was fast and he ducked into a roll just in time to dodge whatever weapon he was holding. This guy meant business, but he had no idea why he was trying to kill him.

‘Great, thanks Grandfather Clock for throwing me right back into the good ol’ days,’ he thought sarcastically. Nobody had attacked him for no good reason like that since Walker and Fright caught Skulker mid hunt for the very last time.

What he now saw was a baton swung down from overhead and Danny knew he wouldn't dodge it in time, so he caught it with the flat of the blade that had been shoved into his hands.

“Wait! Why are we fighting?” Danny yelled, panicked as the guy pushed more force into it. The man's face twisted into something like confusion for a moment and he backed off just the tiniest bit before the scuffing of shoes to his right had him looking over just in time to see another guy in a mask, this time in red, rushing at him. He threw his hands up in surrender.

“Wait!” He shrieked before he was absolutely bodied sideways into the ground.

Why was he doing this? He was half ghost, he could have just gone intangible and disappeared. He didn't have to be body slammed into the ground. Wasn't he a child now? Did that guy in red actually just slam a whole child into the ground?

“Red, hold on! This one's different!”

“What do you mean?” The guy Red asked. He was still pinning Danny to the ground.

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Danny asked breathlessly, then whimpered, “Someone please tell me what's going on!”

The one hovering over him must have seen something on his face that convinced him to not try and kill him anymore, because he grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him along.

“We'll take him in for questioning. Don't let Robin see him.”

“Who's Robin?!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a long, arduous, and confusing journey from wherever they were to… well, wherever they were now. They'd blindfolded him for the transport so he still had no idea what was going on. He had learned that the guy with batons was Nightwing, and Red was actually Red Robin. The one they called Robin was a feral looking thing with swords, he was very small and stabby. Then there was Batman, and he totally threw off the whole bird theme but was easily the most intimidating. And that was all he knew so far. He'd been restrained at an interrogation table.

Danny groaned and knocked his forehead onto the table. He really, really wished he'd asked Clockwork more questions. He'd at least been able to catch a glimpse of himself in the glass behind Batman. He looked like he was eleven or twelve again, which was not as young as he'd been expecting, but much more preferable than being a literal toddler. The group of people he’d been brought in by seemed to be heroes. They were all incredibly weary of him, but hadn’t gone out of their way to harm him since his capture. Though it was hard to call it a capture when there wasn’t a chase involved.

“How old are you?” Batman asked suddenly. His voice was low and rough and somehow Danny could tell it didn't sound like that naturally.

“Um, maybe eleven or twelve?” Danny replied carefully, picking up his head from the table and having the decency to look a little embarrassed.

“And what's your name?” He looked like he was expecting something.

“My name is Danny, sir.”

“Hmm…”

It was quiet and awkward for a long moment.

“Why are you different from the other clones?”

“Yeeeaaah, I'm not a clone.” Danny absolutely did not jump when the brute slammed the file folder shut in front of him.

“We'll see what your DNA results have to say about that,” he said confidently before turning to leave, his cape dramatically flaring out behind him.

Sheesh, and he thought he’d had a flair for the dramatics.

‘Okay, time for some assessment,’ Danny thought to himself as he looked around the small closed room. It was soundproofed incredibly well. While he didn’t have super crazy hearing, it was enhanced by his ghost half, and combined with his other sharp senses, it tended to help him gather more information than others could. The most he could hear outside the room was a quiet hum of activity and nothing discernible. Still, he needed to decide how much he would say to these people. How much truth did he want to weave into his tale? These people clearly already had their own assumptions about him in mind, and while there was absolutely nothing wrong with being a clone, he knew he didn’t have what it took to keep up an act like that for long, which would just end up being awkward for everyone.

He also would not be telling them about his status as Ghost King, per Clockwork’s suggestion. His captors seemed like the uptight sort, and revealing that he was a big, scary ghost monarch didn’t seem like it’d go over well. Telling them he was a halfa would probably get them off his back over the clone thing, at least. He went over the list in his head.

He was a halfa from another dimension, so he couldn’t be a clone.

He had no plans of fighting with anyone unless absolutely necessary.

He did not have a way back to his other dimension.

His name was Danny, and he didn’t have a family anymore.

He did not know why he was in the middle of whatever fight he woke up in.

No, he didn’t know those people.

Danny must’ve been lost in thought for quite a while because his thoughts were interrupted by Batman bursting back through the door. The man’s demeanor had changed completely and he whipped off his cowl to reveal disheveled dark hair, blue eyes, and an expression of absolute heartbreak that accompanied his shuddering breaths. With the mask off, he reminded Danny a lot of his father.

Batman searched his face and, much like Red Robin had before, seemed to notice something there.

“She did it twice,” he muttered to himself. “Two of them this whole time and she didn’t tell me about either of them,” he said through gritted teeth. His frown deepened. Danny copied his frown.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He still had no idea what was going on.

#dcxdp #danny phantom #batman #danny fenton #fanfiction #damian wayne #batfam #just having fun with all the tropes #danny and damian are twins #except they're also kinda not #danny just wants to be a kid again #clockwork is scheming again #not even damian is safe from it #danny wanted something to do and clockwork dropped him and and said “go fix this”#also this is like barely edited

628 notes · View notes

doomedmoth · 3 days

Text

Better kind of best friend (part 2)

Pairing : Reader x Alexandra Saint Mleux x Charles Leclerc | Poly & bisexual fem!reader

Warnings : slight emotional cheating, obsessive/possessive/manipulative behavior, suggestive content/smut, fluff then angst then dark fluff, inaccurate racing calendar and school programs, polyamory, use of y/n, slight dacryphilia

Synopsis : When you left the UK for a year long art restoration program in Monaco, you mainly wanted to make some friends. What you didn't expect was to find your best friend on the first day. And then fall in love with her. And then get tangled in the web of Monaco high society as her boyfriend came back to town, unaware of your little affairs. What the fuck happened to you, you just wanted to make some friends...

Moth's prophecy💡 : Hi cryptids ! Thank you for being so supportive, here is the awaited part two with the arrival of Charles ! You can find part one here if you haven’t read it yet. For the sake of it being easier to read for everyone, the dialogues between Alex and Charles are written in English, even though they would speak French between them. We got some angst, we got some very light suggestive content, we got some manic episodes, and that should leave us with the tasty fucked up shit for the last (two lasts ?) chapters. Enjoy !

“Y/N… I’m sorry I…. I have a boyfriend…”

In a fraction of second, the room felt very cold. You suddenly took into account the breeze from the open window, and the uncomfortable scratch of the hair curlers against your scalp, itching to get off. The taste of red wine on your tongue started to feel like a thick paste, making it hard to breathe, and as you got up and away from Alexandra, your head spun, as if you had been hit by a ton of bricks. You needed some air.

“Wait !” Alexandra tried to hold your hand, bring you back down to the ground, but her fingers felt like fire against your skin, and not the enjoyable type. You tried to get away, so she rose up, closing the gap to you. “Please, listen to me… I’m sorry, I know I should have told you earlier…”

You could barely make out her voice with the sounds of the street below her apartment. And why was she looking at you like that, like a deer caught in headlights, like… Like she pitied you ? You felt sick.

“Yeah… Yeah, you should have.” You probably should have felt embarrassed yourself. Shameful you even tried something. But you quickly realized the sickness you felt was not due to shame or sadness, but anger. Two full months had passed, and not more than a day or two had gone by where you hadn’t been together. “Not once, in two months, did you think of mentioning it ?”

You heard yourself as if someone else was speaking. Thoughts swirling in your mind, replaying each of her words and action. Had you missed a hint somewhere ? Were you in the wrong here ? You could replay the movie a hundred times and still, you were sure you would find no flaw. All the nights she had fell asleep in your arms, all the kisses she had peppered your skin with, all the touches and the petnames, now you could see clearly how inappropriate they would have been for anyone with a boyfriend.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Her breathing got heavier and tears started coming to her eyes, yet you had never felt so little pity towards someone. “I didn’t want it to change what we have, and it all got so confusing so quickly for me, I…”

“Because it wasn’t confusing for me ?” You raised your voice at her. You probably should not have, but she had just half-admitted to knowing her behavior had crossed some boundaries. “Please tell me you are in an open relationship. Please Alex… tell me you haven’t just lied to me.” You were pleading, begging. Don’t they say bargaining is one of the five stages of grief ? But her silence and shameful eyes gave you every answer you needed.

“I didn’t lie I… I just didn’t talk about it…”

“It’s the same fucking thing !” Definitely pushing her arms away from you, you started to gather your things from the floor of her living room. Thankfully, you hadn’t changed into your pajamas yet, you thought, or the scene would have been even more embarrassing.

“I didn’t know what to do !” Tears now rolling down her pink cheeks, she was following you around, words tumbling down in a rush to get her point across. “It all happened so quickly and he’s not home and you… You’ve been everything to me, please trust me ! Y/N, please stop !” She tugged at your arm once more, and cupped your face between her hands. Still crying, she planted a soft kiss on your lips, trembling, but this time, you were the one who pulled away. “I’ve never felt this way for a girl before… I’ve never had feeling like this for another woman, or anyone truly and-“

“Oh no.” You immediately cut her off and took two steps back. “No, this is not happening.” Throwing your things in your bag in a hurry, you couldn’t even look at her anymore or else you were sure you would end up either giving in or spitting to her face. “I am not about to be your little uni experiment, your fucking distraction before you go back to the safety of a man’s arms.”

Putting your bag on your shoulder and throwing her curlers to the floor, you gave her one last look, filled with all the anger and disappointment you could muster. So that was it, then ? Fuck it, even crying she was pretty. She had fallen back down to her knees and for a second, you saw yourself laying above her, kissing her wet cheeks, brushing her hair. Maybe you could have her for a night, a few days, a parenthesis of happiness until the man returned. It could not last, but it could exist. Scraping the last bits of this relationship like the bottom of a candle, and you would keep the remnants of it in a secret part of your brain until the year ended. But you knew the pain would be too much. And it wasn’t why you came here in the first place.

“I know what I’m worth, Alex. And I’m worth more than that.”

“Ah cazzo per l’amor del cielo Y/N !” You hid yourself deeper under the cover of your bed as Chiara barged in your room. “Get out !” She pulled on the blanket, as you sighed and whined, too tired to fight. The ginger girl crouched next to you, eyes pleading. “Please make her leave, she’s been knocking on the door since we kicked her out and we can’t close, Marco forgot his keys.” She took one of your hand in hers to help you sit on the edge. “If you don’t, I honestly can’t promise she won’t come in during the night and I actually want to sleep for once. So please. Go.”

You nodded bashfully as she left the room, visibly annoyed. For two weeks now, all eight other students had had to deal with the awkward mood your friendship breakup had installed in the workshop. And that implied, unfortunately for your roommates, Alex coming in at unholy hours, begging to be heard. It was honestly a miracle no one had told you two to fuck off until now.

You pushed the curtains back as quietly as possible, peeking through the window at the entrance of the house. And indeed, there she was, banging on the door. You rolled your eyes and got up to put a coat over your pajamas. In your closet, not-so-well hidden, the scarf she had left you not long before it all went to shit… Your fingers brushed slightly over it, but you left it in place, and headed down the stairs. In the smallest living room, sipping tea and glancing at you, were your two German roommates. You mouthed a “sorry” at them, and opened the door, immediately pushing Alex away from it.

“Stop it before they call the cops on you.” You crossed your arms and took a good look at her. Fiddling with the worn-out sleeves of a sweater your recognized as yours, she looked exhausted. Dark circles under her eyes, hair a mess, she was far from the walking ray of sunshine you had known. You sighed, and started walking towards the parking lot a bit further down the main path, where you knew she had probably parked. “Come. We’ve bothered them enough.”

She followed without making a sound, her head down. You recognized her car, and sat on the small low wall facing it. She tried to sit next to you, but when she felt you move away, decided to stay up. You looked at each other for a while, your silence only interrupted by a few night birds’ chirps and the waves down in the bay.

Two weeks had passed since what you called in your head “the accident”. And if you had trouble living with the aftermath, Alexandra was taking it even worse than you. In order to protect yourself and allow to maybe, one day, recover something good from it, you decided to keep your interactions strictly confined to the subject of the workshop. Considering your two roles had very little to share at this point of the project, it meant that you were pretty much free to ignore her without being too much of a bitch. And lord knew it would have been too hard to stay mad at her with extended contact. Even right now, as she raised her doe eyes at you, you could feel your confidence faltering.

When you were alone in your bed at night, cuddling the plushie she had won you at the funfair, that was when you questioned if you were doing the right thing. After all, she had not promised you anything. You had lived in fantasies, daydreams of a romance carefully crafted by your need for love. Maybe she was like that with all of her friends. Maybe you could go back to being friends.

But no. She had confessed to knowing. To lying. To having feelings too. There was no coming back from this. Only growth and lessons. And right now, this meant for you some space.

“Well, are you going to talk ?” She opened her mouth, then seemed to reconsider, and you groaned. “It’s already 10 and I’m freezing cold, if you got nothing to say I’m leaving.” You started to get up but she put her hands up.

“Wait ! Okay wait sorry, please stay…” You sat back down, closing your coat tighter. “Thank you. I… Okay hm. Putain. Bon.” She took an inspiration, and you knew this meant she was going to talk non stop until her mouth ran dry. “I’m sorry about everything that happened, from our meeting to tonight. I fucked up. I omitted things and I lied and I did everything I could to stay in your good graces because I grew so fond of you so quickly I didn’t know how to deal with it. I really thought we could be best friends and you know I’ve never been really good with girl friendships I told you about it and I admit I may have crossed the line a bit, once or twice but-“ You could not help but scoff. “What ?”

“Sorry, please do go on”

“No, what, tell me ?” She raised her hand to you, and you did not take it.

“Once or twice ? A bit ?” Her lips started trembling and you stopped her before she could start talking again. “Alex. Friends don’t do any of the shit we did. Friends probably don’t sleep almost naked together and cuddling ! God damn it, you hand-fed me pastries in my bed, and you think that’s a little over the line ?” You heard yourself screaming and tried to take a deep breath, but the freezing air only made your lungs hurt even more.

“I’m sorry ! I wish I could tell you I didn’t know but…” She was shaking, from stress or the cold, you did not know. Finally she raised her eyes, and you felt like she was going to be honest, with herself and you, for the first time in weeks. “But the truth is I knew. I knew there could be something more and I wanted it too. I… I think I still want it. But there’s-“

“There’s your boyfriend. Honestly Alex, with all due respect, fuck off. How can you tell me that straight in the eye ? I’m not some homewrecker, and to be completely honest with you” You got up and took a step forward, pushing your index finger against her shoulder. “Even if you guys broke up I wouldn’t want anything with you.” Wow. Nice lie. But at least it seemed to hurt her in all the right places. “You should have experimented back when you were single like everyone else. You played with my feelings, knowing them and knowing we had no chance at anything serious. I did not have a say in this !” At this point you were very thankful you were the only house around, because you were fully screaming. “All I wanted was to make some fucking friends Alex ! And no friend in their right mind would have done what you did to me. So please, if you have nothing more than empty apologies and more pain to offer… please leave.”

“I really like you.” She breathed out the words in a whisper, and it broke the last loose screw of your sanity.

“And I love you !” There. Out it was, your great love confession, blown away by the wind of the sea, destined to forever belong only to the cries of the seagulls. In the end, it wasn’t so hard to say. “But sometimes it’s not enough. Love isn’t enough.” Turning your back to her, you thought this was truly the end. Nothing was salvageable from that night. “Goodnight Alexandra.”

You almost ran back up the parking lot to the gate of the house, through the living room now empty, and up the stairs. You were about to enter your room, but went to the one to your left, Chiara’s. Her window was opened and she was sitting on the edge of it, smoking a joint. Of course, she had heard everything.

“Trouble in paradise ?”

“Fuck off.” You went next to her, taking the joint from her hands. From her seat, she had had a direct view of the whole scene, sound and light.

You took a drag, almost immediately coughing. The weed was disgusting, not half as good as the one you were used to, and Chiara gave you a look of approval, a kind of “it’s the only thing I could find”. Without knowing how or why, you broke down in tears.

When Charles finally hung up from his phone call with his manager, he raised his eyes to see that the taxi had already entered Monaco. The morning light was piercing through the clouds, shining on the wet pavement as to signal the end of the week-long downpour.

Finally home, he thought. He could not wait to be back at his apartment, and enjoy the rare two and a half weeks break before the last races of the year. The flight had been so long, his whole body was still sore from yesterday’s race, and still he was excited for the day to come. He would come home, and have Alexandra greeting him as usual, full of anecdotes and gossips to share. He would give her the gifts he had prepared, and then they would order from the Chinese restaurant they loved. Eat together, chill a bit, probably have sex. Then tomorrow they would go to his mom’s, take the opportunity to get a haircut, and maybe see some friends. He grinned at the perspective of a few days unplanned, going with the flow. Those were so rare nowadays.

The excitement made him tip the driver even more than usual, and he went up the stairs running, his bags almost scattering on the floor multiple times. But as he opened the door, still smiling, his excitement quickly faded. The apartment was completely empty, as if no one had been in it in weeks. He entered carefully, calling for Alexandra, but no answer. Every room still smelled of cleaning products, proof that except for the cleaning lady last Wednesday, it had been desert of any life.

Charles, starting to worry, tried calling his girlfriend multiple times, to no avail. So he threw all of his bags in the bedroom, changed his sweater, took his car keys and double of hers and decided to go check her own apartment. She was never in it, but maybe something had happened ? Thankfully, word hadn’t yet gone out that he was back, which means he was able to get his car out and through Monaco’s streets without any trouble.

The sight when he opened her door was even worse than at his own place. The usually immaculate apartment was in a mess, clothes everywhere on the floor, dishes piling up in the sink, and a good amount of paper bags from food orders scattered across the kitchen. In all of this, a few sobs could be heard.

“Alex ? Mon amour, where are you ?” Charles called out, voice cracking with concern as he navigated the mess in the apartment, searching for any sign of his girlfriend.

Finally, he found her curled up on the couch, hidden under a blanket, desperately sobbing and shaking as she held close a huge plushie he did not recognize. Charles rushed to her side, dropping to his knees next to the couch and wrapping his arms around her. She immediately pulled him in closer, drenching his sweater in tears.

“Hey, hey breathe love… what’s wrong, tell me what’s going on ?” He murmured and tried to hold her face to his, but she would always push back against his neck.

He finally managed to cup her cheeks and started to kiss her face, repeating again and again that she had to breathe. He honestly did not know what to do, he had never seen her so vulnerable, so… broken ? His heart shattered at the mere thought of what could have brought her to this point.

“I- I fucked up Charles…” Alexandra chocked out, her voice breaking in uncontrollable sobs. If she had managed to talk, she would now not let go of his arms, and Charles winced as she buried her nails in them.

“Baby tell me what happened, it can’t be that bad, it’s okay we’ll manage…”

Suddenly Alex’s eyes stayed fixated on Charles’, and her tears calmed down, along with her erratic breathing. She seemed to realize something, and started apologizing profusely. When she managed to talk again, Charles was completely lost as to what had happened.

“I’m sorry… it’s nothing, it’s just… It’s Y/N” Charles nodded. He was actually pretty excited to come back also for you, the mysterious new friend of Alex which she wouldn’t stop teasing him about. She supposedly wanted him to meet you, and Charles had been witness to so many attempts from Alex at making girl friends, he was glad she had finally managed. You seemed like a good person, from what he heard. “We… we got into an argument. We’re not friends anymore. It was my fault and it’s over.”

Charles’ brows furrowed as he helped Alex get out of the blanket. That was it ? Sure, you had seemed like an good friend to Alex, but she had lost a few friends along the way growing up, and none had ever provoked such an extreme reaction. He glanced around the room again, at the state of the whole apartment. But when his eyes landed back on Alexandra, he could feel the plea on her face to not dig much more.

Of course there was more to it. But what kind of friend’s argument would lead to someone completely breaking down like that ?

As Charles held his girlfriend to his chest, rubbing her back and slowly calming her down, he glanced at her phone, and decided he would probably get more directly from you.

Well shit, it was fancy. As you entered the restaurant in the most luxurious part of Monaco, you started to really regret your choice of clothing. Even the lady in charge of welcoming clients eyed you up and down before raising a brow, clearly not impressed.

“I have a reservation ? Well someone invited me, his name’s Charles ?” You could feel yourself blushing as she gauged you.

She then gestured for you to wait to the side as she left towards the back of the restaurant. When she came back, it was to tell you to follow her.

Hidden behind the bar, far from any windows, were a few booths, carefully covered with flower arrangements and ivy leaves curtains. In the one you followed the lady to, a man was sitting, probably around your age, with light brown hair and piercing green eyes. Some curls were falling down on his forehead, and when he raised his head and smiled at you, dimples immediately appeared. Of course he was cute. Of course she had to have a gorgeous boyfriend too.

“Y/N ! Am I pronouncing it right ?” He stood up and thanked the lady, then gestured you to sit in front of him. You nodded and sat back down with him. “So nice to finally meet you ! I’ve heard so much.”

You couldn’t say the same, unfortunately, and the chuckle that left your mouth couldn’t have been repressed even if you tried.

You thanked him, and as he gave you time to scan the menu, you could not prevent yourself from stealing glances. He was dressed pretty casually too, which made you feel better about your own outfit, but you got the same feeling from him as you did from Alexandra when you first met her. There was something rich about the man, luxurious, in the way he presented himself, smiled and talked. And god, the more you looked at him, the more you could tell why she had fallen in love with him. This was the kind of guy you only ever saw in magazines, too pretty to be true. You felt yourself getting dizzy, and put your attention back on the menu. You were probably tired and in need of caffeine, why else would you feel so weak ?

Yet you had no idea he was doing the exact same thing, going over every little detail of your face and posture in his head. He had heard from you, sure, but not as much as he told, and most importantly, he had never seen you, even in pictures. Nothing could have prepared him, honestly. There was something about you, he wasn’t sure if it was physically or in the way you held yourself, that made his heart flutter. Suddenly he felt a bit shy, and completely unable to stop peeking at you. But he quickly reminded himself of why he was here, and chased his thoughts as far away as possible.

“Thank you for coming, first of all.” You gave him a polite smile and thanked the waiter for your coffee. “I’ll be honest with you, especially on the matter of why Alex isn’t here.” There it was. You shifted in your seat, a bit uncomfortable. The closest exit was in sight, thankfully, in case he made a scene or started to threaten you. You had no idea what he knew, and it scared you a bit. “I… I came home two days ago. And Alex was…” He sour laughed, and started playing with his spoon. “A mess. I think it’s the best way to say it. I tried to make her talk but… only thing she gave away is that you two had an argument ? And that it was her fault. But I’ve never seen her like that before. I… I would like, if you don’t mind, I’d like to know what happened.”

Oh shit. So she hadn’t told him anything. Well of course, lie by omission seemed to be her thing. Were you really about to be the one to break the news to her boyfriend, who by the way seemed like a sweetheart, that her girlfriend had almost cheated ?

He gave you an encouraging smile, and you gripped your cup tighter. Why did they have to look so much alike. Everything about him was warm, kind, you could not hurt him even if you tried. What would it bring you, to do that ? Break them up ? And then what ? She was too out of it to do anything good with herself on her own. He seemed like a good person. And you were not a home wrecker. Sure, you didn’t work out. But maybe they could. You were the problem, she hadn’t fully cheated, she still had a chance at fixing up her couple. Who would you be to deny her.

“I don’t have much more to say honestly. We had a disagreement, one of which you can’t work through sometimes. It’s okay.” You gave a forced smile, and Charles was confident in that instant that there was more to it. This kind of painful conclusion, he knew them too well.

“Are you sure ? You seem upset.” You crossed your arms and he felt like he had maybe pushed too far.

“Yes. It’s been tough but I’ll get through it, and Alex will too. Maybe we’ll work it out, maybe we won’t, that’s our problem I’m afraid. Sorry you had to deal with the aftermath.”

You saw in his pinched lips, in the way his eyes scanned you, that he wanted to press further. But you wouldn’t be the truth bearer. You had done enough. Alex’s commitment to honesty would be his only way of finding out. And it seemed he realized it, because he nodded, and thanked you.

You thought you were done, but he shifted the conversation to lighter topics, your life in Monaco, how the workshop was going. He seemed really interested, and you realized you hadn’t made as much friends as you wished because of your closeness with Alex. So you gave in to the attention. And you realized you craved it, especially when it came from people who seemed a life away from you.

“What about you ? Out of state often, I understood ?”

“Why don’t you take a guess ?” He rested his face on his closed knuckles, and you closed the gap to him, faking analyzing his face. This made him chuckle, and his laugh tugged at your heart in ways you weren’t sure you liked.

“You don’t look like a business man.” He faked an offended face, then winked. Were all monegasques raised to be teases ? “Out often and comfortable with money ? We’re in a private booth where the staff seems to know you… I’d say an athlete maybe ?”

“Bingo !” He made his spoon ring on the rim of your cup, and sat back against his chair. There was a coolness in the way he moved and talked, something mesmerizing.

You thought he was collected. Truth is, thoughts raced through his brain at light speed and the more you talked, the less he listened. If there was something they had always agreed on was with Alexandra, it was that being in a relationship did not mean you found everyone but your partner disgusting suddenly. They were honest about their admiration for other’s looks and personalities, both convinced it was part of the human experience. And so he tried to persuade himself that this meeting was just that, another girl he just found pretty. And interesting. With a smooth voice. And nice fingers. Whose hair would probably look gorgeous laid out on his pillows. And fuck, he thought. That was not good. Not good at all.

Before he would start blushing again, mind filled with unholy pictures, he decided it was time to leave. You were a bit surprised at the abruptness of it, but agreed, you had things to do too. As you stood up, he looked a bit embarrassed.

“I know it might sound weird but… would you mind waiting a minute before leaving ? Giving me a head start.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and laughed. “Everything’s already paid for I’m not trying to scam you ! Just… I think it’s better for you if we don’t leave together.”

You furrowed your brows, not really understanding the request, but sat back down. You were too tired to fight about that.

“Thanks, you’re a dear. You have my number, let’s stay in touch !” And just like that, he was gone.

When you left the booth two minutes later, as requested, you heard a commotion right outside the restaurant. You quickly walked through the crowd gathering on the side of the terrace and started leaving when something caught your attention. A kid, screaming a name you had heard not so long ago.

You walked a bit further down the square and looked back to see Charles in the middle of the crowd, being photographed by paparazzis and families, signing autographs and struggling to get out. When he finally did manage, he entered a slick black car which looked like a million pounds, and left without even glancing back at the crowd.

“Charles… Monaco… Athlete…”You entered the words in Google, and found him immediately. A Formula 1 Driver. A fan favorite, it seemed. “Alex you bitch you could have warned me that he’s famous…”

Still, his request had got you out of a very sticky situation, and you were grateful you would not find yourself in newspapers tomorrow. So you switched to your text messages, and sent to Charles a thanks for the heads up.

Unknowingly to you, he sat in his parking lot for ten minutes before going back to his apartment, staring at his screen and blushing like a teenager.

Charles was tired. It had been more a week since his return, and Alexandra gave no signs of improvement, despite his tries. She would keep up the appearances in public, but made no effort at home, and avoided all friends or family gatherings he attended. And still, she would refuse to talk.

After he came back from having a drink with you, another one he did not tell Alexandra about, another one he had to sit out the excitement of in his car, another one that convinced him that you could be essential to making her feel better, because you made him feel good, he decided it was enough.

Alex was sitting on the couch, her plushie always glued to her, watching the cars go by. At least she had accepted to come back to his apartment. He brought her tea and took the plushie away from her, not without getting a whine in return.

“Alex, we need to talk.” She gave him her usual sad puppy eyes, but this time, Charles was decided to not let her manipulate him. “It’s gonna be okay, I’ll be here no matter what. But you have to tell me what happened. It can’t go on like that.” Finally she sighed and sat straighter on the couch, trading her sad eyes for the stone cold face she wore when he wasn’t around.

“Yeah you’re right.” She let out a shaky breath, betraying her anxiousness, then took Charles’ hands in hers. Finally, they would maybe be able to move on. Finally he might get back his lover. “I… I lied to you. About Y/N.” Obviously, thought Charles, and though he did not want to admit it, he had a small idea of why. She planted her eyes in his, and holding his hand tighter, finally said the truth out loud. “I never told Y/N about you. I never even told her I had a boyfriend. I should have been honest from the beginning, but it got confusing very quickly, and I didn’t want to ruin… I’d say our friendship but I know it was more than that.”

He knew it. It pained him to admit it, but he had had a feeling, and his instinct rarely lied. Now the only thing left was to find out how much had happened. Unable to speak up, he nodded to encourage her to keep going.

“I was scared of losing her and losing you. I told you about her because I thought if you two met, it would just be me and my two favorites people and everything would be great. I didn’t think further than that. But… but I knew she had feelings and I liked it, I liked having someone so… devoted to me.” That didn’t surprise him. Alex had always had a praise kink, worshipping her might be the fastest way to her heart. “And I guess I ended up falling for her too.”

As Alexandra’s voice became shakier, he knew he was touching the main subject. It was already a lot, he needed to process, but he needed the full picture for it.

“Mon coeur, I need you to be completely honest. Did something happen between you two ?” He saw her hesitating for a moment, before nodding, her gaze fixed on their hands still holding.

“Yes.” She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “We kissed… I pulled away but I didn’t want to.”

Charles finally pulled his hands away from hers and got up. He felt hurt. Betrayed. Used. He had been kept in the dark both by his own girlfriend and you, truly the butt of the joke. Yet he felt empty of any anger. He looked at the little decorations in the living room. They would be so easy to smash. Probably satisfying. Yet when he brushed his fingers against it, he only managed to push them back in their exact place, all perfectly symmetrical. Strangely, it brought him more comfort than punching something.

“Are you not going to say anything ?” Her voice was still shaky, he could feel she tried very hard not to cry. And the only thing he wanted was for her to break down so he could hold her as close as possible and kiss her tears.

“What does this mean for us ?” He turned back to her, and she tried to hold his gaze.

“I don’t know… I’m in love with you. I know you probably want to tell me to fuck off but I need to say the truth. This has taken nothing from us, from what I feel for you. If anything, I’m finally feeling better now that you’re back. But I can’t deny that I had never thought about… about me, and another girl, like I did with her. I’ve never felt this way, it was like my heart was so full it could explode. I don’t know what I wanted from it Charlie, I… Nothing good could have happened, I fucked up, and I’ll do my best to make it up to you.” Finally, she lost it. Tears streaming down her face, she looked exhausted. “I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to hurt anyone. I can’t loose you I’ll do anything but I can’t live without you Charlie…”

Charles sat next to her and she threw herself in his arms, sobbing. He could not tell her. What would he even say ? “No worries baby, I can’t even manage to get angry at you for almost cheating because I think daily of fucking the friend you had a homoerotic codependent friendship with ?”. Or maybe “I wish I could focus on reassuring you that I’m still in love with you but telling you you’re pretty when you cry is not a compliment my mom taught me ?”. In the end, he opted for kissing the top of her head and softly stroking her back.

“Okay Alex okay… calm down… We’re gonna manage…” He gave her hand a squeeze, and drying some tears with a finger, kissed her cheek. “We’ll get through this together.”

Unfortunately for Charles, Alexandra’s moods swings came back full force, and soon enough she was back to shaking in his arms, this time from despair, hands clenched into fists on her knees.

“Why… why are you so calm about this ?” She demanded, voice trembling and brows furrowed. “I’ve just confessed to kissing someone and you act like it’s no big deal !”

Charles knew all of this, knew he should be angry, and he barely stopped himself from chuckling when he looked at the little statues he wanted to smash against the floor earlier. But he felt a strange sense of understanding and compassion which only made him calmer the more he let in his own fucked up thoughts.

“It’s not that I’m not upset, mon coeur.” Charles said softly, choosing his words carefully. “I just think maybe now’s not the right time to talk about this. You’re clearly exhausted and you’ve already been very honest with me. You need to rest. And I need to process some things.”

She agreed, her shaking slowing down once more, and he finally convinced her to have a shower and get to bed. She did so without arguing more, and Charles went on his balcony, completely worn out. When he opened his phone, he was greeted with a message that made his heart jump once more.

“Thx again for the evening, it was so fun ! Hope you got home safely, xoxo”

Looking at the light of his bedroom that just turned on, he chose not to answer. The rollercoaster had been enough for today, he needed a rest too.

Though he had struggled, Charles had managed to convince Alexandra he had no intent of breaking up with her, and even that going with him to the second to last race would do her good. The weather was still good in Qatar, she could see the girls, get spoiled and pampered. He knew it would take time to get her back, and maybe she would never be exactly the same. But he wouldn’t stop trying.

On your side, you had been forced to retreat to your bedroom with your computer as none of your roommates seemed to enjoy having the race on the living room main screen at 6 in the morning. You did not care much yourself, Charles had tried to explain some basic things to you before he left but none of it was familiar for someone like you who didn’t even have her driving licence. Still, supporting friends, right ? It felt weird to call him a friend. Just as it had felt weird for Alex. You groaned, thinking that each time, you had been the problem. Why couldn’t you be attracted to anyone else in the whole country ?

When your eyes laid back on the screen, you got reminded why. Because in his fireproof suit, sweating and winking at the camera, you had to scratch your brain with a knife to even think back of any men with as much charisma. Because his skin was soft and his hair smelt good, you knew it and you wouldn’t dare to say how. Because seeing behind him in the interview the girl you still were in love with did not diminish your attraction in the slightest. If anything, you almost threw your computer to the ground when the thought of what they looked like together kissing came to your mind.

When you came out of the bathroom, a few hours later, your phone was ringing. You answered with a smile to the man whose voice was filled with both exhaustion and excitement.

“Hey Charles ! Nice race out there !”

“Did you manage to follow everything ?”

“I did not remember shit of what you told me !” You laughed, and heard him do the same. “But you finished third ! That’s good in any sport, right ?”

“Yeah, good enough we’ll say, could have done better though.” You pictured him as he spoke, hands scratching the nape of his neck, a little smirk making his dimples appear. “Thank you for watching. I appreciate it.”

He sat on the side of his hotel bed, smiling like a child. He didn’t even know why he called you. He had plenty of people around to congratulate him. Yet it was always nice to know someone far thought of him.

“Charles…” Your voice was suddenly tinged with concern. You had seen the polite smiles and waves to the press. But you knew her, and you knew it had not gotten better. And you were done being the big girl, you needed to know. “Is Alex ok ? I’ve seen her on TV and she looks… well you know. Still not herself.”

He got back up and walked to the window, thinking of what to say. Though you had kept in touch since your first meeting, he hadn’t told you of Alex’s confession. Maybe it was time.

“Yeah… It’s been rough for her, hm… Y/N I’ve been made aware of some things and… now’s not the right time, but when we’re back in Monaco, with Alex, I think… I think we should have a talk, the three of us.”

Your heart jumped at the suggestion, guilt eating you out. So he knew. You looked at the stairs, echoes of your roommates’ laughter coming from downstairs. Yeah, you really needed some new friends, before you were about to loose another one.

“I- I’ll be there.” Charles thanked you and ended the call, promising to keep you updated. As he turned around, his own guilt trip was waiting for him in the form of Alexandra, who had just entered the room.

He braced himself for an argument. The new information of him talking to her… whatever you were for her, would surely trigger confusion, and anger. She would tell him that he was not better than her. She would probably put the blame on you. Would she try to hit him ? Mind drifting completely elsewhere, he thought it would be fun to see her try, before punching himself mentally to focus. But when she finally spoke, nothing could have prepared him.

“It’s not fair.” Her voice was breaking but she wasn’t crying, fists clenched. “It’s not fair that she’s not talking to me ! Why won’t she talk to me anymore !” She wasn’t upset because he had been talking to you. She was jealous your attention had been shifted to someone else. And as she paced around the room, Charles sat on the bed, thinking that the manic episode was about to start. “I miss her. I need her.” She came close to him and the way she held his shoulders and forced him to look her in the eye both scared and excited him. “And if my only way of getting her back is you, you best believe I’m taking my chances.”

As the day went on and Charles witnessed the evolution of his girlfriend’s almost-psychotic episode, he thought that maybe some of her ideas weren’t so bad. In the end, he wasn’t the only one who had been a little too obsessed with you recently. What if the way out of this for them, as a couple, was simply to give in ?

So he confessed to everything. Listened. Gave his opinion. Kissed every centimeter of skin he could and agreed with every idea she moaned out loud as she bounced up on him. And when she fell asleep in his arms, smiling, Charles thought that the price to pay for a ray of sunshine wasn’t so bad.

Something had changed. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what, but you felt as if you were nothing more than an antelope being hunted in one of those wildlife documentaries you used to watch as a child.

Why had you even dressed up ? The dress wasn’t comfortable and way too light for December, your hair was tied too tight, but at least the staff didn’t look down on you this time. When Charles said you looked gorgeous, you thought it was not so bad, and sat straighter.

It was your first time seeing the two of them together somewhere else than on pictures. They were dressed to the nines, and matching perfectly, from the black velvety outfits to the silver of their jewelry. It seemed Alex had finally managed to sleep, because she looked as good as the first day, as good as the hot summer nights, as good as the time you kissed her. Charles was keeping on his hand on her thigh, and everytime he squeezed her, you felt like you were about to faint.

You tried to be cautious. Ordering alcohol to calm your nerves had probably not been the best idea, because at some point you weren’t able to remember if their voice had always been this sultry or if you were already tipsy.

They had apologized, both of them. Alex in great details, and this time you let her talk. To be honest, you were tired. It had been long enough. You missed your friend. When she said out loud every thought that ran through your head, your last arguments all flew away. Had the two of you not suffered enough ? Had Charles not been a great meeting ? There was so much more she wanted to share with you, and you only managed to whisper littles “yes”. She would be better, she said. She promised. The best of best friends.

And so when she touched your hand, you did not retreat. And when the both of them asked you what you thought, all red smiles and white canines, you barely managed to breath out.

“Yes, sure… let’s try being friends again.”

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Taglist : @sam-is-lost // @mangotaitai // @ilovechickenwings // @eroselless // @zreads111 // @crimson-spine // @inejismywife // @champomiel // @seoulie101 // @charizznorizz // @exactlycoralfox // @waitwhendidwegethere // @cluelessred3

397 notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 2 days

Text

Chapter 8: As it Lies Severed All Ties With It's Kin

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Violence, physical aggression, mentions of blood, character background, depictions of therapy, emotional distress, mentions of cheating, Strained family dynamics. Character study and introspection, no proofread.

Summary: The last blow is delivered. A new step is given.

AN: So nervous for this chapter. And Ahhh, finally hehe 🤭. Hope you like!

—Hey

The seen icon had remained there, unchanged within Peter's chat log. It had been a month and a half since that unexpected confrontation happened back at Peter's home.

And a month and a half since silence kept stretching between them.

It was clear he was ignoring him, and even more obvious his now ex best friend didn't want anything to do with him. Not after he disrespected his wife. His beloved MJ.

After that night, Miguel left the house with a powerful slam that could only rival his heart's frenetic beats.

He had been ambushed, attacked and mauled by a woman that not only was his friend's wife, but also your best friend.

How fucking good was that?

Life was surely proving him a point, yet he refused to believe in such nonsense.

Karma wasn't ruining his life. His bad decisions were, he acknowledged much.

Trusting the wrong people, saying the wrong things at the wrongest of times, had only earned him to be in the black book of everyone around him.

No longer being perceived as that reliable man that focused on his work and loved his fiancée, but a cheater, a liar and abusive man that had been causing so much pain it was hard to believe.

Consequences were hardly a thing on Miguel's life, since he always behaved, hubristic as he was, but he behaved. Until that fateful night at that damned Alchemax party.

His temper had been teased enough by Dana, and it all took a one night stand with a gorgeous stranger to have life setting it's eyes on him and finding the perfect chance to charge him for every bad thing he had done.

All his life was sent spiralling into the void of chaos cause of you. If he hadn't met you, he'd still have his annoying fiancée with him, he'd still have his routine and home; his friend and possibly an even better position at his job. He'd be hurrying Delgado on his project advances, not backwards.

Ever since you showed up, things had gone incredibly sour for him. He didn't know what kind of bad luck charm nested and irradiated from you, cause things worsened.

With a heavy and irked sigh he downed the glass of whiskey in a go, letting the liquid burn his throat deliciously before serving himself another.

He didn't turn to alcohol often, in fact, he barely indulged the habit, unless stress and anxiety were making him their personal toy.

And he hated this never ending play date with them. He didn't want them anymore. He wanted everything to go back to normal and keep his routine. Sudden changes alarmed and made him severely uncomfortable, even though he always ended up adapting.

Cause every time he thought something was going back to normal, life made sure to surprise him with something new that only added more weight to his falling facade of a good man.

At first he thought nothing but a little stress coming his way as Aaron Delgado was elected as his new boss. And the man surely enjoyed putting everyone's nerves on edge, his specially.

Delgado didn't take him in count with the new projects, including one Miguel had prepared himself.

How dared him to cast him aside from his own creations and things? How dared Delgado to call him subordinate to then assign him into another group of tyros that had no idea on what to do?

Miguel downed the whiskey in a gulp and served yet another shot. His resented eyes darted to Peter's log once more.

Nothing had changed. And by the looks of it, it'd remain like that.

A clear 'Fuck off.' from that goof he had for a friend.

He had to admit, that Peter's bravado had surprised and caught him off guard.

The years he had known the man, truly couldn't prepare him for that display of sudden and righteous anger.

Miguel had underestimated Peter and his life choices so far, even going at such extent as to call him a clown when drunk, that couldn't truly swot on whatever thing the family man spoke. His brain turned stupid the moment his friend punched him with his words.

Every single one of them, hitting and berating with unforgiving and brazen truth, turning them harder to accept and swallow.

Part of him was too proud to acknowledge that disrespecting MJ was a bit too much, but the woman had come for him, straight for his jugular and her kill, that left him no chance to prepare his ammo against her and Peter.

But they were too set into marring and scarring him like predators, waiting for him to weaken down so they could finish what they started. Defending their territory and their own like a matter of death and life. You included.

The thought of MJ going for him to slap him or cause any sort of physical damage, amused him to no end. It was like everyone that night had taken a double shot of bravery.

But she didn't waver, he had to admit it. The way she executed his own public hanging, was flawlessly achieved on her end.

And it all resumed into one person. You.

The one that ignited the spark of that roaring and blazing fire within the Parker-Watson realm.

He growled while his nostrils flared angrily, his hand grope the glass tighter. God, you infuriated him to no end.

You and your stupid righteousness to accept whatever shit life threw at you, were the main culprit of his current state. Disregarded by his peers at work, friendless, fiancée-less, living in a bare and big apartment that needed to be cleaned up and refurnished as soon as possible, wallowing into his poor choices and actually consider them for a minute.

But of course, to Miguel O'Hara is was rather easy to put half the blame on others. The weight of being an asshole sometimes hurted his back and he was generous to share that burden with the rest.

To his surprise, the main door of his apartment rattled softly as Gabriel pushed the keys in and opened the door.

And to the young O'Hara's surprise his brother was there, sitting in the breakfast island, sulking and drinking his problems away.

"Migue! ¿Qué haces acá, cabezón?" (What are you doing here, big head?)

Miguel chuckled at his brother's puppy- like excitement. At least he could feel a bit of that tension disappearing before downing his third whiskey shot.

"I live here, cabrón." he grunted while Gabriel laughed and pulled him for en embrace, before Miguel shrugged him off. "What are you doing here?"

"Was picking up some stuff before going to Kasey's. Have a date night tomorrow." His younger brother fetched some small boxes from one room, and closed it's door.

"Why don't you tell Dana to join us? We could make it a double date."

Miguel's frame went rigid and he exhaled deeply.

"We broke up."

The words came out off him, rehearsed and terse, as if pronouncing them alone was more than enough to scrape his tongue.

Gabriel went silent for a moment and rubbed his neck awkwardly.

"Shit, I forgot about that..."

Miguel's head snapped his head softly to him, fiery eyes pinning Gabri on the spot, suspicion and mistrust rising.

"What do you mean? You've talked to her?"

"She called me."

Another wave of uncomfortableness washed over Miguel. Anxiety rose heavenwards in matters of seconds. Both O'Hara's remained there, looking at each other. And by the sudden cold stare from his baby brother, his mind intuited Gabriel was already acquainted with the situation.

Gabri's face fell and looked away, his cheerful demeanor long gone. He was good a pretention, and wanted to see how much the nothing is going on here facade lasted on Miguel. Gabriel wanted to see if Miguel took initiative to tell him the truth.

But his brother failed in such a simple task. He didn't have the intention of sharing his secret either. Although the situation wasn't that much of a secret anymore. At this rate the only people left knowing were his coworkers and the city.

"Do I know the woman?"

Miguel shook his head and served himself another drink. His suspicions confirmed in that phrase alone.

Gabriel's body shook ever softly with an underlying sort of anger.

"You know... even though I'm happy she's gotten a taste of her own medicine for cheating on me with you a while back, this... is different."

Miguel refused to talk or face him, and just heard him.

"Why'd you do it?" Gabriel asked

The question often popped in his mind, and in everyone's mouth that found out about his doings and the answer still remained the same. He didn't know.

But Gabriel's question was different, his overall demeanor was discomfitting at best. Eerily calm and collected. Like him.

"I don't know. I was pissed and-"

"So... you just cheated on Dana cause the hell of it." He crossed his arms and quirked a brow.

It was more a statement than a question. Yet Miguel just nodded. Tired of repeating the same answer to the same question over and over.

"Pretty much." he shrugged and slicked his hair back. Tired of trying and defend himself.

"Hmm..." Gabriel put the boxes down and rubbed his face, "You know, I could give absolute zero fucks on what you do with your life. But being a complete dick about it isn't the solution."

"I'm not denying shit, am I?" Miguel's brows furrowed, completely peeved.

"True, you're not. But you're not being responsible either." Gabriel's hands gestured

Miguel groaned annoyed.

"Ya estoy harto de la misma cantaleta. Contigo, con Dana, con Peter, con todo el pinche mundo que se entera de lo que hice." (I'm so sick of the same shit. With you, Dana, Peter and everyone that knows what I've done)

And Gabriel's mocking laugh didn't help to wane his rising anger. The neighbor's aggressive and upbeat music, filtered through the walls, seeping ominously through the genius' apartment. Polluting the air with its own chaotic beats.

"Bueno, Migue, ¿Qué esperabas, cabrón? For everyone to pat your back and feel sorry for you? Don't be stupid, man." (Well, what did you expected?)

"Can you leave now? Not in the fucking mood. And I'm not stupid."

"You are." Gabriel nodded knowingly, while tossing some of hid belongings in the box he put aside, "Pretty stupid actually. But it's even more moronic to believe that people won't give you shit for the things you've done," he shrugged, " And for you to act like a boy when you're soon to be a father."

Miguel's whiskey glass couldn't stand the match against the wall. Obliterating itself within seconds as the reluctant daddy hurled it against it. Shards flew to the floor and part of the kitchen Island Miguel was sitting. Some pieces rested a few inches away from his trembling and rabid frame.

"Kinda reminds me to someone." Gabriel murmured with derision. Unable to hold back the anger caused by his stupid brother's poor decisions.

Miguel's eyes screamed murder when gazing at his brother, as if daring him to say the words he could sense forming in his mouth and mind.

"But of course! Like father, like son." Gabri squared his shoulders, as if readying himself for the upcoming blow, and tilting his chin up defiantly.

The chair fell to the ground, as Miguel was already pouncing on him, the latter didn't hesitate nor wavered in keeping himself grounded with his stance. It was the younger O'Hara's turn to get everything he carried within, out of him.

As soon as Miguel's hands grabbed him by the collar, Gabriel wasted no time into connecting the perfect punch on Miguel's livid face, breaking his plump lip in the go. It stunted his brother for a minute.

Miguel remained nonplussed, brown eyes widening in shock. It wasn't a you punched me, but rather a how dare you fight back sort of shock

Who was him to put him in his place?

None of his intimidation worked on Gabriel, none of his mean and scary dog privilege served against his brother.

"You're just like him!" the latter hissed the accusation, "Didn't you learn shit about what Ma told us about him?!"

Miguel butt headed Gabriel and both landed on the floor with a loud thud. Miguel's fists didn't fear to collide against Gabriel's torso, knocking and forcing the air out of his ribcage.

But if there was something Gabriel could outmatch him, was his temper. Irish blood ran through his veins after all. And it was rare when it soared alive.

Gabriel connected another punch on Miguel's nose as he pulled his luscious hair, earning an enraged groan, but the older O'Hara didn't quiver, if anything the punches had sparked that fury within and returned the punch on Gabriel's cheekbone. Marring him as well.

This wasn't like the usual quarrel they used to fight as children, where Conchata would separate them and spank them afterwards. This was pure anger manifesting itself through their fists, hair pulling and cursing words.

Finally unleashed to tear each other apart, and making up for every single fight left without an apology or unfinished; for every urge to punch each other by the naughty things they got blamed for as youngsters.

But also, revenge for an innocent life that would bare the burden of having Miguel as a father.

Gabriel achieved what neither Peter or you wanted to do but were unable to do.

"Cállate!" Miguel roared and he punched again, earning a whimper from Gabriel.

"You're exactly..." Gabriel panted, "like Tyler." to then seethe and Miguel's chest constricted painfully. And he hated the feeling.

His enormous fists tightened their grip on his beaten brother's shirt collar, but refused to keep punching, instead, Miguel's hips weighted Gabri's torso down. Keeping him still.

It took Conchata a while to come clean to both their children regarding their parents. To Miguel it remained an open gash, and this situation did nothing but add salt to it, even worse when Gabriel now held that piece of information against him. Gabriel's words kept flowing, like the coppery taste in his mouth.

"You've already abandoned your child." Miguel couldn't help but punch again, furious for the comparison he was being subjected to, but Gabriel didn't have intentions to stop.

"And got mom's cheating side!" Miguel punched harder, tired and peeved that he had to shut his brother like this, but again, how dared he compare him to those that had hurt him the most?

"Congrats, cabrón, you're the worst of both worlds."

Miguel held his fist in mid air, trembling, panting the rage and need to beat his brother to bloody pulp, off his body. Just cause he told him the truth.

The guitar riffs died down, like the strife between them. It had served as an angry metronome for their beating.

Gabriel pushed him off his body, staggering away from him, panting like he had run a marathon. He spat the accumulated blood on the floor and stood with a pained groan.

"A fucking Tyler wannabe"

Miguel's lip twitched as he also spat blood.

"Leave."

"From all the things you could've learned from that piece of shit and mom... you picked the worst."

Gabriel shook his head, disappointed as he mumbled, and Miguel looked at his brother from his spot.

He was no longer that little boy that hid in the sheets with him after a thunderstorm, or cried whenever George threatened to beat him if he failed at school again.

His little brother had grown, beat him with his bare fists even, only to prove him he wouldn't tolerate his shitty attitudes. Gabriel was no longer afraid of him.

"And you know what, Miggy?" Gabriel panted before wiping his mouth and touching the throbbing and swollen cheekbone, "I hope that child never finds out who you are, and that woman makes her life away from you. Cause you're not worth the trouble."

"You done? Fucking leave." Miguel nearly roared again through raged breaths.

"You're not worth anything good they have to offer. Nor their time, nothing." Gabriel sniffed and wiped his nose.

Miguel growled as he rose, shaking with the remnants of his misdirected anger, supporting himself in the nearby chair.

"Hope you get to see how other man takes your place and raise your kid."

Shut up

"Cause I wouldn't want to be associated with a coward like you neither. I'd be too embarrassed to say you're my father."

Cállate

"Why the fuck you're still here then?!"

"Just came to pick up my stuff, genius. Don't want you to dirty them with your shitty ass attit-."

"Te me largas a chingar a tu-"

"Oh, shut the fuck up and man up." Gabri growled before standing up. Bloodied and beaten, but it didn't matter. He had given Miguel a lesson.

With pained steps, Gabriel left him with a loud slam on the door.

Not only Miguel O'Hara was now minimized at his job, friendless, fiancée-less, but now, with one of his favorite shirts stained in blood and a busted lip and brotherless.

The latter however had wounded him enough to drown a shaky exhale as he blinked away the bloodshot tinge within his eyes. But as he rose completely on his feet, so did his wounded pride.

He didn't need Gabriel, neither Peter or anyone that was on his side first. He didn't need anyone. They'd come to him eventually, like they always did.

They always do.

With bruised knuckles, he took another glass from the shelf and served it full this time.

They fucking always do

Your hands clutched tightly at your tote bag's handles, letting the rough material to soak up in the faint sweat of your hands and constant rubbing.

Here we go

The first appointment had arrived and certainly that ever familiar tingling sensation upon facing the soon not-so-stranger's door, buzzed through your body. The protocols were something you were well versed in.

Introducing yourself, sharing pleasantries and exposing your deepest traumas to a total stranger that at the end of the session, would take a cut of your already reduced paycheck.

But doctor's and MJ's orders, were orders.

Your thighs spreaded a bit more and your hands went immediately to your abdomen, letting a soft exhale to leave your lungs. The belly's weight was starting to slowly but surely sink in your body. A hand rested ontop of it, caressing in tinny circles those pressure points that caused mild discomfort.

Your fingers relished in the warmth of your skin for a minute, and your stomach fluttered. The anxiety crawling back on the surface had your knee bouncing, eyes darting to the crisp white door, that matched on your baby blue two piece comfortable outfit. zthe soft smell of jazmine flooded that zone of the clinic.

And now I need to pee, great.

Your throat dried as minutes kept on ticking and ticking. Dragging the imminent vis-a-vis meeting with the professional.

Although your medical records showed a couple of psychiatrists and therapists listed, meeting one since... well, forever, always made your nerves to juggle in a deathtrap.

Nevermind. Just focus.

Some had been good, others bad an unprofessional. Imposing their beliefs and going ti the extent of condemning you for such thing as focusing on yourself rather than your mother's forgiveness. Some people were weird like that.

But they all mattered little to nothing, not when the new addition to the list was about to introduce themselves and sojourn into your life for a bit of time, enough to give you the right tools to set your life back in track.

Or so you hoped.

Your breath hitched as the receptionist called your name a couple of minutes after, and opened the door for you. Your brief grip on the tote bag's handles grew impossibly tight.

Everything will be fine.

In a few strides, you entered Dr. Graham's office. Her polite smile immediately met you and coaxed you to take a seat before her.

A silent sigh escaped your mouth and soon, you accommodated in the seat, the main door clicked as it closed, leaving you, your simmering anxiety with the doctor alone.

"Nice you meet you, Miss Primrose."

The surname still sent uncomfortable jolts through your body. As pretty as it was, it was the only tie that kept you tied to Mother's memory. Sadly, you couldn't turn into an Aster or a Jameson since none of your progenitors were nowhere to be found to relinquish them your rights. So a Primrose you stayed.

"How are you doing today, Miss?"

A nervous smile crept on your lips as you acknowledged the question with a nod.

"I'm alright."

"I can see your belly is causing a bit of discomfort. Would you like an extra cushion?"

You blinked a couple of times and nodded faintly. The doctor passed the cushion and you placed it right in your lumbar area, relishing the much needed support. Your eyes darted through her desk and the several papers scribbled with yout name on them. It was your medical record. All of it.

"Thanks."

"So, What can I help you with?"

Dr. Graham spoke as she pulled the most recent papers from the unwilling visit to the hospital and your new meds prescription.

"In all honesty, I haven't visited a therapist in years. But I know how this will go." The health professional raised a brow at your words, "You'll ask me questions I'll have to answer if I wanna have at least some sort of... control on my life back."

"So you feel you're not in control?"

"At all..."

"What about the pregnancy?. Would you say it helps to keep you grounded?"

You sighed, a prick of upset rising through

"It's the reason why I'm here, doctor." You murmured almost bitterly, and the doctor just watched for a moment in silence, pondering and thinking her next words to thread carefully.

She gave you a bit of space and pulled a box of tissues out and write some notes afterwards

"I know you might know this questions, but it's unavoidable for me to ask, how does that makes you feel?"

If it wasn't for the routine interrogation you would've already broken down. Instead, your hands clasped before you, resting some inches away from your belly.

"Scared to no end. Terrified of a shit ton of things. Sorry for my language."

"It's alright." She wrote some more and sighed, "What would you say it's your biggest fear at the moment?"

"Not having enough to keep up with all these future demands this baby girl will do, even after adopted I know that it'll be a bit crazy."

"I see. You're worried that you're unable to provide for your child in the meantime and afterwards birth."

You nodded, looking at your little belly poking out.

"That and... that I might hurt her."

"Hurt her?"

Your fingertips tapped nervously on the flat of your thighs, a tad uncomfortable with the first share of true personal details.

"I'm afraid to... hurt the baby once she's born. My eh... Mother had this thing. Postpartum Psychosis. It wasn't even depression, just... her and her need to hurt me."

"And you believe you might have it? or would suffer from it in a future?"

"I hope not." a nervous chuckle flew out of your mouth to then clear it softly, "I really hope not."

"Although your fears are completely valid, Postpartum Psychosis is a rare condition, Miss Primrose. It's not hereditary."

"It's not?"

Dr. Graham shook her head with a small smile at your confused face.

"No, dear. Sadly we haven't found a true reason why it shows up. It simply does."

You gulped and bit the inner flesh of your lip.

"But rest assured, you're in good hands. I promise."

So far you weren't a potential candidate for it, but it's prevention turned into a priority, specially with a medical record like yours. Meds were just the tip of the iceberg.

Again, you nodded

"May I know about the baby's father?"

"I'm on my own." Your borderline snappy remark made Dr. Graham to scribble some more on her notes.

"I see. May I know how was your relationship with him?"

"I... don't feel comfortable speaking about him."

More goddamned notes.

"Alright. Tell me about the baby. Is everything going good?"

"A little underweight, but healthy."

"I see. You must be proud of it, doing it all on your own."

A weak smile donned your lips as she spoke through her praise.

"Thanks, though... I... I initially wanted her gone. And... I tried to get rid of her." Your fingers fiddled against each other, upset and impatient. Unable to look at the professional in the face. Too ashamed to withstand her piercing yet non-judgemental gaze.

"But I couldn't. And here I am."

"You coming here to try and get the help you need for you and your baby, is one of the most selfless acts a future mother can do."

"Even if I'm giving her up for adoption?"

"Even that, yes. You're doing it for her best of interests. You're loving her by seeking that baby's wellbeing as your main priority."

"I don't know if love actually is the right word for it."

"It is love, even though it does not looks or feels like it to you. Love can manifest itself through so many ways, not precisely only on the platonic and romantical aspect of it." Dr. Graham nodded with a patient yet caring smile.

"However, perpetuating guilt over initial choices is just another trauma response, Miss Primrose. I understand that your initial choice couldn't be achieved. May I know why?"

Your throat turned drier than the desert. Too arid and scrapped to rebut. But with a deep inhale, you finally gathered the courage to muster

"I didnt... I don't want to be like my mother." A pause, and then you spoke again, "She was always complaining about how much she wished to... abort me when she had the chance. Selfish... I know."

The annoying sound of her scribbling pen was chipping at your patience. But you also understood it was protocol.

"I see. And is why you've decided to giving up the baby for adoption?"

"Mainly. But it's a money wise sort of thing for me. Sure, I did... want kids but much much more ahead. Not right now, not when my paycheck keeps growing shorter and shorter each month. But the baby is here so..."

"If the circumstances of having the baby would be different for you to keep her, would you?"

"I guess so? I don't want to have kids in an unsafe or stressful environment or a place that is prone to be one."

"Why?" Dr. Graham secured her notes and looked at you, expecting your answer. She had nailed one of the many roots of your problems.

"Because... It-." You voice trailed off, and the doctor pushed the box of tissues before you as your throat swallowed the thick lump with difficulty, "It reminds me too much of my messed up upbringing."

"And if you could resume it, how would you do it?"

"Social services were my friends, Different foster homes, not all of them loving, failed adoptions, that sort of thing." You chuckled nervously, trying to sound as calm as possible, but your heart was beating like a rabbit's.

The doctor nodded and took a look at your med prescription. Dr. Graham asked about the meds and how it made you feel. But also noted that no matter how personal the question, you refused to break down. Too used to violence and harmful situations. Something to not be proud of.

Questions kept coming, mostly regarding your pregnancy since you rejected talking about Miguel. What would you have to say about him anyways? It was about you and the baby. There was no space in here for him to also pollute it with his poisonous violence.

The therapy kept stretching until time was up.

"I'll recommend some mood stabilisers once you reach your twenty weeks, the Zoloft is a must. So keep taking it. And if possible, I'd encourage you to talk to the baby."

She chuckled at your confusion for a moment and nodded.

"I know you don't wish to grow attached, since adoption is on the way. But creating a bond, even if temporary, is vital for your and the baby's health. Same as sleeping properly."

"Oh... Alright."

"If there's nothing else to discuss, then I'll see you within two weeks."

Supermarket shopping was one of the things you'd never expected to require assistance with.

The clerks were kind to fetch you things you couldn't reach from the top shelves, and gave you tissues after a wave of sudden nausea and retching at the bathroom.

Once at home you'd finish the paperwork for government aid, and looking into the adoption programs MJ suggested.

In the meantime, you got into the line and waited your turn. A couple of groceries and vegetables nested in a side as snacks and other little indulgences rested on the other along some new slippers.

The beeping machine echoed constantly, marking your products, and when the woman stopped and dictated a total, your chest felt a bit constricting.

"I'll return the snacks and will keep the slippers."

Shame didn't do your face justice, as you avoided seeing everyone directly in the eyes. Maybe it was a miscalculation on your budget or prices had gone up, but not having enough to pay for some simple snack bags, added yet another toll on your already loaded brain.

You quickly paid for whatever you could and left the super, face and mind awash with embarrassment. With a sigh you looked at the curve of your belly.

"Nothing personal, but you're not exactly cheap to feed." You mumbled while rubbing your tingling belly, at the fluttering sensation blooming from within.

"But can't really blame you" You patted the curve softly, "I like eating good stuff too."

Once the groceries were secured, you drove home.

Taglist:

@death-moth-art @miss-taura @xylianasblog @serpentstarr @randomnobody187 @xylianasblog @aockskcw @lauraolar14 @what-is-your-wish @oharasfilipinawife @jellyboob @aockskcw @innyxp @smartyren @creepyronix

@serpentstarr @randomnobody187 @8xbygirl @del-ightfulling @iytatsworld @moonzuzuu @huehuehuehuehehe @ryk-mt @deputy-videogamer @sizeablysized @kate-ohara @stealyourblorbos @beingdeluluisthesolulu @death-moth-art @obsessedwithromance @crybabiixo @spiderpapi2099 @tremendouswolfsaladranch @cherrycosmos392 @sbrn0905 @xylianasblog @elgatofx @eepiebeepie @vonev @tatatida @freehentai @scaryplanetdestroyer @minalovesyoubabes @emeloyy @migueloharastruelove @jdbxws @m4dyy @nyxzoldyck6 @fruitychae @francesca-the-1st @siidmm @ana-paulinathe-arts @artyanimi @frompeach @innyxp

#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #of flowers and hummingbirds 🌼🐦#miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara angst

124 notes · View notes

iamyourdailydoseofbi · 21 hours

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/iamyourdailydoseofbi/749511641793757184/hello-dear-will-you-pray-for-me-will-have-a?source=share

Thank you dear!! I didn't think you'd post the second part so quickly. if your willing to write a part three can you please insert some spicy in it? 🎀❤️

WILL YOU PRAY FOR ME? ( House of the Dragon x Reader ) FINAL PART.

AUTHOR NOTE! I've never done smut before. But, we'll give it a try. Also, if you like this, you will probably like my fic 'THE CONQUEROR REBORN'. [ Yes that is me shamelessly promoting it AGAIN. Check out the link for it in my previous posts. ] <3 pairing: DARK! Aegon ii Targaryen x Fem! Hightower! Reader prompt: Aegon intends on securing your place as his. What better way than to spoil you for other men, than with bedding you. word count: 1, 298+ words

Staring at the wall of his bedchambers, you dreaded what was to come, or what could possibly come. It was clear that Aegon was planning something, he said so himself that he wished for you to tend to his wounds. Though, it was not clear if he genuinely wished for you to tend to his wounds or if he wanted you to ‘tend to his wounds’. He seemed lewd like that. Hearing the handmaiden’s leave the bedchambers, you turn around just as the last one leaves, a look of pity on the handmaiden’s face. They knew. They knew what awaited you.

No. No. Please don’t leave. Stay. Stay.

Gulping as you are now left alone with Aegon, you turn your head away to stare at the wall. A tiny twisted part of you hoping that if you stay still and quiet long enough Aegon would forget you were there. Feeling a hand slowly trailing up your back, you involuntarily tense up at the feeling, calloused fingertips tugging at laces at the back of your dress.

You didn’t need to turn around, you knew who it was, Aegon. Holding back the tears that threatened to fall, you gather your bearings the best that you could, not wanting him to get the satisfaction of seeing your misery. Feeling the laces of her dress loosen up, you hold up the dress with your hands, trying to stop before your chemise is revealed.

“I thought of you, whilst I am in Rook’s Rest.” He whispers against the shell of your ear, “Of you waiting for me to come home, to come back to you.”

“Please don’t.” You whisper, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No, tis’ my right. As your betrothed, as King, to take what I wish from you.”

“Aegon..” You try, hoping that you could somehow get through to him.

Keeping your head turned away from him, he pulls out the clip in your hair, letting your hair fall loose from the pinned back hairstyle. A mix of fear and humiliation bubbles inside of you as he slowly undresses you. He was slow, almost as if he was taking his time. It was odd, not like what you had expected. Feeling his hand gently tug your dress free of your hands, you shift your eyes from the wall to his, a lust filled expression on his face.

“Say it again.” He whispers, a slight need in his voice.

“What?”

“My name. Please, say it.” He whispers, “You make it sound like I am worthy of being named after my ancestor.”

Staring deeply into his hypnotic amethyst eyes, you could see an odd glimmer in his eyes, not one of lust or something sinister. More like a plea of some kind of reciprocation of affection. Feeling the tiniest bit of pity for him, you try to turn your head away, but he gently turns your head back to face him. In this light, he could almost be considered handsome, maybe even ethereal.

Without those big puppy dog eyes of his, his lips pulled into a soft pout of desperation. The thick white bandages on him, just adding to the wounded puppy look to him. Chewing on your bottom lip, you couldn’t find your voice in that moment, even if you could speak up, what would you say to him? Something witty? Something hurtful? Or just give into his demand?

“Please.” He begs, “I will get down to my knees if that is what it takes to hear you say it again.”

Had he gone mad?

Almost as if he didn’t think you believed him, he slowly kneels down in front of you. Letting out a shaky breath as he kneels in front of you, he slowly tilts his head up to meet your gaze, his hands gripping softly onto the skirt of your chemise. He looked like he was praying, and you were his item of worship.

Any other woman would have enjoyed the sight, the King of the Seven Kingdoms kneeling before them. But, you just felt a mix of confusion and uncertainty. Should you enjoy this, savor just how much power you had over him? Should you not, for selfishness was a sin against the ideals instilled upon you by your parents?

“Please, just say my name once more. I will⎯”

“Aegon..” You whisper, a little fearful that he would escalate to something more drastic.

“You make it sound so desirable, so worthy.” He mumbles, a lovesick look on his face.

“Aegon, please..” You beg, not liking his reaction.

The way he just seemed to spiral for your affection was unnerving, like if you stopped recuperating he would do something drastic. You weren’t entirely sure if it would be towards you or himself, and that was what was the most unnerving part of it. Taking a step back from him, he grabs the hem of your chemise, slowly pushing it up. Going deadly still at the action, you watch like a watch as he pushes up your chemise.

Keeping eye contact with him, he pushes your chemise up to reveal your linen thigh-high stockings. Flushing a bright pink at the way his eyes darken, you couldn’t seem to push him away, a twisted part of you wanting to see how far he would go. No man had ever touched you before, not like this. You had always been told that the only man who should ever touch you or see you in such a state was your Lord Husband.

“Let me worship you in the way you deserve to be.” He whispers, just waiting.

Was he…Was he waiting for you to give your approval?

“Aegon..” You whisper, a little unsure.

“Let me.” He whispers, slowly pulling down the linen thigh-high stocking.

Chewing on your bottom lip hard, you open your mouth to protest, but the words quickly die on your tongue. Watching him place a soft kiss onto your ankle, you flush at the feeling of his lips on your bare skin. Blushing a deeper scarlet, he slowly kisses his way up your leg, stopping just short of your inner thigh. Slowly trailing kisses down your leg once more, you could feel his hot breath, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. He was so gentle, more so than you had thought, and a twisted part of you was actually enjoying all of this.

“Will you pray for me?” He asks, “For my soul to be saved as I take your maidenhead?”

----

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@danytar

@nightvers

#house of dragons x reader #house of dragons #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd imagines #house of the dragon x reader #aegon the second #king aegon #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #hotd aegon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd smut #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader

55 notes · View notes

neocrias · 23 hours

Text

The Ultimate Test (MarkLee Oneshot)

Synopsis: In which you hear that Mark Lee, a cocky classmate from college, is a bad kisser, so he personally offers to prove you wrong.

wc: 3,3k genre: party au!; university au!; slightly suggestive

You didn't used to come to parties like this. Well, at least not on weekdays. Definitely not when you had a Calculus 3 exam in a couple of days to worry about. However, the pleading eyes of your three best friends who couldn't bear to see you go through the whole grueling college experience without going through the whole drinking-and-partying stereotypical college thing managed to convince you this time.

And you were thankful to have a little black strapless dress tucked away in the back of your closet for specific situations like this. And you were also grateful when your friends offered to pay for your Uber - after all, being an university student also brought with it the unhappiness of lack of money and the small joy of when you get something for free.

You just weren't very grateful when you realized that you barely spoke to those people at the party and your friends had "very important" things to do, which included kissing and boys, and didn't include you staring at them while all of this was going on. Of course, this was expected, and you didn't want to be a party-pooper, so you just started walking around and drinking a few shots of beverages you weren't exactly interested in knowing what were. Again, it was for free. Your slight shyness wasn't limiting or controlling, but it was certainly a bit inconvenient. More than once a few good-looking guys came up to talk to you, but your clumsiness simply drove them away within a few minutes. Damn.

And now here you were: listening to incredibly loud music in a modern mid-century house that you didn't know who it belonged to - or if it was a fraternity, or anything like that - with a glass of drink that you didn't know what it was, eyeliner that you could swear would melt at any moment with the human warmth around you, a little black dress that had already gone out of fashion and an uncontrollable urge to do something outrageous, just so you could distract yourself from the fact that normally at that time you would either be sleeping or freaking out about the imminent calculus exam. "Damn that motherfucking calculus," you thought, "I'm at a party."

On the other side of the large, high-ceiling living room, a group of recognizably slightly annoying boys were playing beer pong while dozens of girls surrounded them. All of them were engineering students, except for their leader, Mark Lee, who was the most disturbing of the seven and was a literature major (which in some way that was incomprehensible to you, attracted a lot of girls) and he obviosuly took advantage of this, which was visible by the girl leaning loosely on his waist at this very moment.

— YES! — Haechan, one of them, shouted over the loud music as he hit the ping-pong ball into a glass of beer. Mark cracked his neck twice before picking up the glass and drinking until the very last drop, defeated.

You stared at him as he shrugged and grimaced before returning the glass to the table and flashing a smile at everyone in the game, preparing for his turn to throw the ball.

It wasn't that he wasn't handsome, or attractive. Yes, he was. And he didn't fall short on either count. You could understand why he was so chasen after by the girls on campus. It's just that you'd had the opportunity to have a few dialogues with Mark Lee, and they were all pretty unpleasant. There was something about his manner, his attitude, that you just couldn't endure. He was irritating. Smug. Sloppy. And you don't have time or patience for that.

He then flexed his arm, his biceps visible thanks to his tank top, and threw the ping-pong ball, but someone blocked your view just in time to watch him hit the cup.

— You won't believe what I've just found out! — Jennie, one of your three cheeky friends, appears smiling and clearly altered. — Mark Lee is a total soft kisser!

— What? — You almost scream, startled by the sudden mention of the boy you've been shamelessly watching for the past few moments. And even worse: worried about how your friend had acquired this information.

— I'm serious! — She laughed out loud, bending her body forward and knocking some of what looked like a fruit cocktail out of the glass in her hand. You sidestep cautiously, but some of the pink liquid still splashes on your legs. — Lin said they kissed earlier in the evening, and he barely even moved! Can you believe that?

You laugh at the irony of the facts. That was valid information to share. You feel a bit bad for Lin, your classmate, but honestly? You wouldn't trade knowing that for anything. Of course, Mark, the most conceited person who ever lived, would be the type to talk a lot and do nothing. Was there anything more coherent than that? Absolutely not!

Your laughter joins Jennie's, and you both enjoy the gossip for a while. Suddenly, Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream" starts playing through the dozens of speakers scattered around the house and you and your friend stare at each other, wide-eyed, as your laughter stops.

— THAT'S OUR SONG! — You shout at the same time. Jennie pulls you by the arm to the most spacious part of the room, where everyone was dancing, and you let yourself go for the first time all night. The lively melody and beat combine with the rhythm of your heart, and not much later you can hardly feel the world around you. Tests, lack of money, shyness or cocky boys, none of it mattered. The few drinks you've consumed so far finally seem to take effect, and with every song you play, your body feels looser and your mind feels farther away.

Not long after that, a tall, muscular guy starts to whisper something to Jennie, who smiles back shyly. You realize that maybe this is your cue to take a break from the dance floor to grab another drink and finally quench your thirst caused by the sudden exercise.

You see the familiar counter full of disposable cups and bottles of all kinds on the other side of the hall, in what appears to be a dining room combined with a kitchen that is now full of young people and very messy. It's easy to let yourself imagine what that environment would look like if it weren't in its most chaotic state: perhaps a cozy house or a shared-house of intelligent students. But right now, that was just the alcohol talking.

As soon as you reach the counter, you grab a plastic cup and fill it with what looks like a clear alcohol - perhaps a vodka, or gin - topped off with a generic soft drink from the other side of the counter. That mix will be enough at the moment to keep you from passing out from the alcohol, but it won't let the dance sober you up again either.

The first sip brings the sweetness of soda and the bitterness of strong alcohol down your throat.

— Vodka. That's for sure. — You conclude to yourself, looking at the cup in your hands.

— I thought you were some kind of female-hermit or something. — A voice pulls you out of your little dialog with the inanimate object in your hands, and you look up to see the person on the other side of the bar, only to roll your eyes deeply.

— That' not even a thing.

But Mark Lee just shrugs, filling his own cup with what looked like a brownish liquor.

— You get the idea. — He smiles and tilts his head, stopping to watch you. His eyes scan along your little black dress and you suddenly feel embarrassed by all the attention you're getting. He just lets out a muffled laugh, probably noticing the way you flinch slightly, and walks away with his drink - not without turning around and giving you a wink, which you answered with a frown.

After the not-so-pleasant appearance of the cocky college student, you remember the funniest piece of information of the evening: "Mark Lee is a total soft kisser!". Of course! He could be as arrogant as he wanted around you or any other girl, but you knew what he really was. You knew his secret. And he may have walked out of there thinking he'd rocked it, or that he'd made you uncomfortable as usual, but it was you who had won your little dispute. After all, you're going to have the last laugh.

…🎉…

A few more drinks away and no word from your friends. The small anger you had felt towards Mark had been transmuted into an important mission to tell almost every girl you knew there about the new gossip you had been entrusted with.

You were at a stage in your drinking where your conscience was no longer so affected - so you could tell that your actions were the result of a real desire to unmask the most annoying guy you knew. Of course, the drink made you bold enough to carry out the plan, but the rest was all yours.

— So… Mark Lee, do you know who that is? — You were excitedly telling Lane, a girl from your business class. Lane nodded, curious. — The rumors are that…

She then arched her eyebrows, looking past you. Unfortunately, or not, you didn't exactly notice that.

— He's a very bad kisser! — And then you started laughing for the nth time that night, thinking about how funny that was and hoping for a good reaction from your colleague.

— Oh really? And how do you know that? — A voice echoes from behind you and you feel your spine freeze. Lane stares at you and the person behind you alternately, getting a front view row of your giant screwup.

"Shit", you thought before turning to face the known voice owner.

— Mark. — It's all you can say. You try your best not to show the shame of having been caught in such a…vulnerable moment. The brunette just stared at you intensely, arms crossed in front of his chest and a deadly look in his eyes. You don't let yourself be intimidated this time, and give him an ironic look in return.

— Funny you should be saying that, hermit.

— Funny that you're a literature student and yet misuse that word.

Okay, that wasn't your best take at the moment. But it was all you could think of as a response. You wait for a laugh from Mark, or anything else that would reveal his smug spirit - or that would show that he had been shaken by your comment about the kiss.

However, he just takes a step forward, still with his arms crossed, coming dangerously close to you and tilting his head and shoulders in your direction, to look you right in the eye as he says:

— Who did you call a "bad kisser" again? — He teases, starting to crack a sly smile. — Why don't you kiss me to prove who's the bad kisser?

You swallow a lump in your throat, not knowing what to say. That's right, it seems that his idiotic manners had appeared in the worst possible way, and now it was up to you to make things right, even though you felt nervous and your stomach twisted with a feeling you didn't understand where it was coming from.

Suddenly, a flash of confidence came over you. And there, staring at your nemesis' frowning eyebrows and the nonchalant way in which he crossed his well-shaped arms, with that stupid grin on his face and a growing challenge in his gaze, you understood what was happening to you. Damn it, you want to kiss Mark.

Of course you don't want to give him a taste of being right, or yet another reason for him to think he's the man. Of course you don't want to hurt your own pride, and you'd hold on to it like your life depended on it. But you also wanted to be able to test that gossip you'd heard earlier that evening. And you also wanted the taste of knowing that you'd totally destabilized that arrogant man. You wanted to see the look of surprise on his face when you accepted his proposal, or would he be… satisfied? Or bewildered? All the options seemed alluring in your imagination.

And you wanted to. Oh, you really did. You really wanted to kiss Mark Lee.

— Prove me wrong, then. — You boldly held the gaze of the boy who was testing your patience so much these past weeks. Your smile gradually widened as you watched his mouth slowly open in confusion. Oh, he hadn't expected that. Mark's eyebrows drew together and he seemed to search for words. His posture stretched, and the shadow of his body moved away from you.

— Wait, what did you say? — He pointed to his own ear and then to his surroundings, indicating the muffled sound of the party music. His face showed, however, that he had heard very well - he just wanted to make sure he wasn't hallucinating those words.

— Prove. me. wrong.

— What the actual f… — He practically whispered, but you could understand the words just by watching the movement of his lips. Mark's gaze in your direction was puzzled and surprised, but not in a childish way. He stared at you as if he were really trying to understand what on earth could be happening to you at that moment.

So, without letting him think too much about your sudden acceptance, you took the boy's wrist in one hand and began to lead him out of there.

— Let's find somewhere to go. — You said, with an assurance that had never come through your voice before, which Mark seemed to like. Then he took the lead himself, gently leading you through the party with the calm of someone who seemed to have done it many times before - and he probably had. You mentally thanked him, because if you had to continue with your little confident act, your knees might have given out. Or your stomach would explode. Something in between.

Suddenly, Mark stopped in front of a door, already on the second story of the house. You didn't even notice how your feet made it all the way up the stairs, but they did. The brunette opens the door, but not before turning to look at you one last time, trying to make sure that was happening.

He enters the room before you and turns on the light, making you realize that it was a rather narrow bathroom. Your heart beats rapidly before you take the final steps towards that unexpected destination. You enter and close the door behind you. Mark leans lazily against the wall opposite to the sink, facing the bathroom mirror. He takes a deep breath, looks at the floor with a sly smile and says:

— I thought you hated me… — But you don't let him finish, because you quickly stand in front of him and put both hands behind the back of the head of the boy you hated. You see Mark's eyes widen one last time as he is interrupted, before you can bring your lips together in a rushed kiss.

Your nervous fingers run through the end of Mark's hair, which seemed freshly cut and slightly spiky. You smiled into the kiss at the tickling sensation, while he barely had time to react to your attack.

Then, when he finally understands, Mark pulls you close, holding your waist with both hands and spreading his legs to fit you between them. His grip is firm but still, as if he's nervous.

You continue to enjoy the moment, moving according to the rhythm between you, but always wanting more. The air in the bathroom seems increasingly thin, but the chaos of your mind barely lets you notice. You leave Mark's lips to make a trail of kisses between his chin and neck, hearing him sigh above you. You feel the warmth of his skin, and the short trails of freshly shaved beard on his face. It's only when Mark gently pulls his face away and leans his forehead against yours, pausing to take a deep breath, that you realize he's barely had time to think.

— Okay, hasty. — He lets out a weak laugh between sighs. — Now it's my turn.

Without letting you answer - and in a classic revenge move - Mark leans over until you have to walk backwards. His steps are short, but they work until your back hits the sink counter. His exposed arms encircle you, holding you firmly on the worktop as he brings his body closer to yours until you're completely touching.

You let out an exclamation before he presses your lips together again, this time taking the lead.

Mark's lips feel like uncharted territory, as this time he takes control. His kiss is firm, but not at all restrained. Slowly, you feel one of his hands rise from the counter and run down your spine from the base to the nape of your neck, tracing it with his fingers and leaving you extremely sensitive. At the nape of your neck, Mark's hand fiddles with your hair, precisely catching the strands in a ponytail that he pulls back slightly.

His index finger makes a few deft turns through the strand, twisting it until it is completely in his grasp. He squeezes your strands with a force that doesn't hurt, but makes you grunt into the kiss - which he answers with a smile.

Still enraptured by the unexpected movements, you barely notice when Mark's two hands gather around your thighs, pushing them up until you're sitting on the sink counter and he has to tilt his head slightly to avoid breaking the kiss. The ease with which he had lifted you, and without pulling away. Oh my God.

Jennie's words about Mark seem further and further away, as if they had been in another life. They also seem, fortunately or not, untrue.

"Lin said they kissed earlier in the evening, and he barely even moved! Can you believe that? ", you hear your friend's voice in your head. Oh, no… Lin must have been completely out of her mind.

But there's barely time to think about anything outside that 4x1 bathroom. Or at least not when Mark is running his tongue lightly over your lower lip before moving on to your neck. The warm breath against your cold skin sends shivers down your spine, and you wriggle under the boy's grip - which still hasn't left your thigh.

With no time to lose, you pull back on the back of Mark's neck to press your lips together again, and he seems to love it. For a few more moments, you exchange hurried kisses and firm squeezes, until Mark's kiss begins to slow down, becoming even more attractive. The movement of your lips, so sure and certain, gradually stops, until he leaves a few lingering kisses and rests with your faces close together.

— I think you've proved me wrong. — You say, in a whisper, then let out a muffled laugh, unable to stop smiling.

— That's a shame… — He begins, tilting his head with a sideways smile. — Because if you weren't convinced, I'd have to keep proving it to you.

You face each other directly, and you can't help but roll your eyes at his comment, and then say:

— Mark Lee, you're an incredibly bad kisser.

— That's exactly what I wanted to hear. — He mumbles and moves closer again. You can still hear him let out one last dry, drawn-out laugh before closing your eyes and surrendering to the darkness.

54 notes · View notes

yesihaveaobsession · 20 hours

Text

That Boy is a Monster

Human!Alastor x female reader

Summary: After attending a fancy party, one thing leads to another.

WARNINGS❗️❗️: Stabbing, kissing

A/N- sorry if this sucks, I barely reread it because I've been busy :( love all of y'all btw

You had been invited to a fancy party since you're related to rich somebody. You had been sitting at the bar most of the time when you spotted a tall, slender man. You two had accidentally made eye contact, and he made his way over to you to introduce himself “Hello, dear. I'm Alastor, and who might you be?”

"Y/N." You replied, taking in his tall appearance, he took a notice to this, and his smile got bigger. “Hm-mmm, what a wonderful name for a such a beautiful lady.” He complimented. You weren't sure if you were blushing or not. The confidence this man wore had your heart swooning "Thank you."

"So, do you happen to know who is hosting this party?” He had asked politely looking around at everyone who was in suits and dresses.

"Um some guy named Charles." You drawled out, not remembering the last name. Alastor's smile only got bigger as he took you in, your small petite form was no match for his tall slender one. “Oh, Charles Slug worth? I’ve heard he is a rather wealthy man and is somewhat powerful in this town.”

Letting out a hum as you sipped your drink. You can tell he’s charming by the way he talks and holds a conversation. There was a slight look of something more sinister in his eyes, but it seems like he was trying to get to know you. As you continued to take in his appearance you recognized him from somewhere. "Wait I know you."

"Hm?" He tried playing it off. "Aren't you that radio host that everyone talks about?" You asked with a cute head tilt, and he also noticed the wheels turning in your head. In response he nodded a bit, "Yes, yes. That would be me, dear.”

"It's a great show." You smiled back as you leant on the bar. "Thank you." Is what he had said as he smiled widely. "“I try to keep my listeners up to date, and I also try to entertain them with my musical selections.” He sounded proud of what he did for sure. As he should. He the most popular radio- show hosts in all throughout New Orleans.

“You're quite the pretty young lady, if I do say so myself…” Alastor sipped his drink.

"Thank you." Is all you said and all you could say because he kept on showering you with compliments, you smiled at him. Your smile faded when the man had asked you "“So, do you have a man in your life?” He saw your sudden change and how you became somewhat shy. "It's complicated."

He raised an eyebrow intrigued. "Complicated?"

"Yes."

"Care to elaborate, my dear?"

"It's a long story." His brown eyes lit up as you said this, and he smiled showing his white teeth. “I’ve got time, though. Why don’t you come with me outside? And you can tell me a little of that long story, hm?”

You hesitated for a moment but wanting to hear more compliments and get it know him better you agreed. "Okay." He walks over to a small patio, leading you with a hand “Here we are. Go on, tell me your story.”

So that's what you did, you went on about a current situationship and he had no idea what that meant so you had to tell him, this conversation went on for a while. he listened very attentively, smiling as you told the story. You could see his smile slightly widen every now and then, as if he was amused by it. You couldn’t tell by his expression whether or not it was a positive or negative amusement. He seemed to enjoy it though

"And yes, so it's complicated." You said witha sigh. He nodded. "“Hm. You definitely have gone through a lot, haven’t you? Quite the complicated story.”

“You have no idea... You mumble and sips her drink and looks at the stars. "You know… life can be very unfair. It seems like you’ve been on quite the emotional rollercoaster, haven’t you?” He smiled at you again then looking at the stars that was above you two.

"You know… life can be very unfair. It seems like you’ve been on quite the emotional rollercoaster, haven’t you?” You nodded. He sounded like he had experience, no? He also sounded very wise in a way.

“Do you want to know what I think?”

"Sure." You replied. He stepped a little close to you, smiling as usual. "I think that you deserve the world." Your heart did flips for sure. You just looked at him His smile becomes wider, yet a little more sinister as he looked back at you. "Thank you." You said as your eyes searched his. "You’re welcome.” Alastor said and taking a step closer to you. He then tilted his head to side slightly. "May I ask you something?"

"Yes."

His face is just inches from yours. "“Would it be rude of me. if. I stole just one little kiss?” You looked down and saw he was bent down at the waist before returning back to his hooded gaze. "Of course not."

He leans in and plants a very soft kiss on your lips also his large hand holding your face. You obviously kissed back. He deepens the kiss for a few seconds before pulling away. He looked at you with slight lust in his eyes, still with a sinister smile. "You're very handsome." You said out of the ordinary it's almost like he had you under a spell.

“Heh-heh. Why, thank you, my dear… but you… your beauty is absolutely breathtaking…” He leans in and plants another kiss on your lips. You smiled into the kiss. Alastor pulls away again. “How… How is a woman like you still single?”

"Oh stop."

He lets out a little chuckle. “I’m being serious. A woman as pretty as you, surely many men have been after you.” His hand lands on your hip, you pull away.

"I appreciate you, but I should go."

“Aww, why? You and I could spend all night, talking about you, maybe making out a little more.” He knew what he was doing, he knew he was getting to you. But you were still in your little trance that made it hard to actually pull away from this man.

“I find myself quite fond of you.” There he was again leaning in close, so close that you felt his breath on your neck. You eyed him.

"How about we go back to my place then?"

The slender man's face lit up. “Ah, now we’re getting somewhere.”

You two leave the party and go back to your place. He stood behind you with his arms behind his back as he watched you fumble for your keys; he was waiting patiently with a sinner smile as he looked at you. Finally, you opened the door and the two of you walked in. As he walked in after you, he closed the door behind him.

"Here we are." You sigh with a smile. “Do you mind if I borrow your restroom? I need to use it real quick.” he asked, and you smiled. "Down the hall on the right." He gives you a quick nod and then heads down the hall to the restroom. He was in there for some time, so this gave you the chance to take out some whiskey glasses. He eventually walks out of the restroom. Upon looking at you, he smiles widely “Ah, you’d didn’t have to get the drinks ready. I-I would’ve done that.”

"It's okay." You smiled at him and watched as he got closer. "You know, I’m quite a romantic man… But. you… you bring something different out of me.” Alastor smiled and purred. You blushed. "My, you have such a way with words."

Alastor chuckled. "My way with words are much like the radio show. A little bit of information here, a little bit of entertainment there. But it’s you… it’s you that makes me want to write poetry.”

"I must say you are quite charming." You say and he chuckled again. It brough your joy, really. He took you by the hand and leading you into your living room.“Would you mind if I turn on some music? Just to set up the mood, ya know?”

" Go ahead. "he turns on some jazz music, as he leads you to the couch and sits down. He pulls you down to the couch next to him. You looked at him with such lust. Smiling, you noticed that this man smiled a lot, and you were curious as to why. "Am I making you excited?" He whispers and you just stared into his eyes. He had you right where he wanted you. He moved his hand up your arm, and took you chin with his hand. He pulled you closer to him, looking straight into your eyes before leaning in and kissing you. Once again, he deepened the kiss for a few seconds. You then couldn't help putting let out a moan as you kissed back. He held the back of your head, pulling you even closer. He kept the kiss going for few more seconds, before leaning back “May I take toy to the bedroom?" He whispers in your ear.

"Please." You whispered back. Alastor got up from the couch and taking your head and leading you up the stairs. You soon got to your bedroom. He pushed the door closed with his foot. You turned to face him. Alastor smiled as he wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you in closer, kissing your neck. He kept going as he reached behind and slowly pulls the knife he had from his back pocket, but still keeping it behind him for now. You two kept kissing. You couldn't see the knife because he pressed you against the door.

“Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?” He asked as he gripped the knife from behind his back. He whispers in a sinister voice “You seem tense. Let me help you relax.” He knives into your stomach then you gasped for air. He smiles sadistically. "Aw, my dear." He purred. You looked at your hand that was covered in crimson.

“Now, now. We wouldn’t want that blood to get everywhere now would we.” Your eyes fluttered as you kept gasping trying to get air into your lungs. He smirked, you know, you remind of a woman from many years ago.” You the passed out onto your bedroom floor. He sighed as he checked your pulse making sure you were still breathing, luckily you were. He smiled and stood up, pulling a small rag out of his pocket as he started cleaning up any of the blood from his knife

After he made sure that all of the blood was gone from the knife, he sheathed the knife and put it back into his pocket. He then left your bedroom and left your house.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #i have an obsession #the radio demon

52 notes · View notes

yrbladie · 3 days

Text

—﹒୨` TELL ME GOODBYE (part 1/?)

˖ ࣪ summary. in which they're gone, but you call them one last time to hear their voice. but instead of the silent beeps and the voicemail message, you hear his quiet breathing. or in which you get one last chance to say goodbye.

˖ ࣪ characters. diluc, kaeya.

( warnings ) around 1k words. angst. gn!reader. heavy mentions of death (his). kind of modern setting since it has phones. mentions of living together (diluc). non-fluent writer

( a/n ) this is based on a book called "you've reached sam" and on a personal experience. also i'm not 100% sure if i should make a series out of this or not, i just had this idea randomly after reading the book and relating to it. and i kind of wrote this in a rush after an entire night awake so... if there is anything confusing or any mistakes, i'm sorry. and yes, i know it's small but i'm starting back slow :')

It had already been a year since your life had completely fallen apart, ever since your lover's passing. You kept wondering if you had made a mistake somewhere down the line or if your life had simply always been this dull.

Though time had completely stopped for you, the outside kept moving on, only precious memories remaining, like flames that spring to life one last time before being completely diminished to ashes.

Before, it was common to joke that you'd never be able to spend even a moment without his presence by your side, but who would've thought? Now, you'd have to spend an entire lifetime without him.

You, above everyone, knew how unfair destiny could be. But of all people, did it have to be him?

It's almost as if things hadn't changed much.

Your reserved seat in the tavern is still there, but this time it's Charles who greets you every time, a compassionate look in his eyes. And you don't know why — actually, you do — but you always find yourself waiting for him. Waiting until the moment you'll hear the door to Angel's Share open, and this time, surely, this time it'll be him. And you'd smile at him like you always did, and ask "where have you been? I've been waiting for you all this time!". But for some reason, you can't imagine what his answer would be anymore.

You always look for him everywhere you go, his red hair in the middle of the crowd, standing out like a rose in a field of lilies. Back then, no matter how much you tried to surprise him from behind, he'd turn around and greet you, like he was able to find you anywhere. He always did.

You always find yourself waiting for him to come back from wherever he is — even if you know where he is. Besides his father, in the cemetery next to the church.

On his birthday, his grave was filled with flowers of all kinds, and on most days, there was a single Small Lamp Grass that you'd change every few times. Sometimes, Kaeya would add a pink carnation to the pile on the days you couldn't go visit Diluc.

It was by no means a lonely and abandoned place there. And if you could be honest with yourself, you'd even say that spending your entire day besides his grave was better than to come home to a empty house. The place in which your voice echoed to nothingness and the silence was unbearable. The future, so meticulously planned together, now mocking you from a distance, out of reach.

Walking from room to room, you find bits of Diluc everywhere, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to connect all the pieces back together. As you try to remember how it felt to have him there. And you can't. You realize, with a coldness in your chest and a choked up sigh, that the human mind could be something so fragile.

So instead of dwelling on a life that no longer exists, surrounded by the shadows of a presence forever gone, you call him, just like you used to do. And for a single moment, it feels like you're back to the past. During the days where Diluc would never let it ring more than twice before answering.

And it seems like it rings forever as you wait for the usual voicemail to start playing, his casual voice saying that he'd call again later if it was something important. But this time, you're greeted by silence. And you're about to start wondering if your phone had glitched, before a familiar voice greets you again.

"(Name)?"

And maybe, you've really gone insane after all this time. Because it was still his voice, in the same way he used to say your name, although now he whispered, almost as if he couldn't believe it himself. Even if this was all a dream, just the fact you could hear him say your name again was a blessing in itself.

So you whisper back, "I'm here".

You can't help but feel like you've been there before. More times than you'd like to admit. It was like people around you were always doomed to disaster, so much so that it made you wonder whether you were somehow cursed.

"Well, then maybe we should be cursed together." Was Kaeya's lighthearted answer to your worries. Although he had quite the charming smirk at the time, you knew he was being serious.

Kaeya was someone that spoke about forever as if he was talking about the weather. In the way he joked about never leaving no matter what happened, and making promises under the stars.

In the end, you won the bet that neither of you chose to participate, the one you didn't even know you were part of. A bet with fate. It was like it was a cruel and twisted joke from destiny itself. To show you that indeed, your 'curse' would always be your downfall. Because no matter how many times you'd been there before, watching yet another loved one being buried, you still never expected it.

A fool's hopeless dreams. Like a firefly chasing a shooting star. Always looking up for the brighter days only to end up in the rainiest ones.

You had always loved rain. But now all your flowers where withering and your plant pots were overflowing, because as much as water can nurture, it can also destroy when it has nowhere else to go.

Mourning sometimes led people to the strangest places. Some would start swearing they could hear their loved one voice calling for them in their home, in the street. Some would even see them. And you couldn't help but wish this paranoia to yourself, because ever since Kaeya was gone, there was a simple and unending cycle of silence. No matter how much time you wasted waiting for something to happen during the late nights awake, you were never blessed by his faint presence again, created by a mind affected by delusions.

And so, with trembling hands you decided to dial Kaeya's number again. Like it had been on instinct, a habit too difficult to let go of. You heard the familiar ringtone as you took comfort in it. Slowly trying to delude yourself that things were still the same, that Kaeya was somewhere simply busy with work and he would call you back in a few minutes.

But the call was unexpectedly picked up. You wondered whether someone else already had his number, and you couldn't help but be angry, because how could they? But it wasn't their fault. Instead, you decided to speak as if it was Kaeya there, on the other side.

"Why?" You asked. Why did you have to leave? Why did you accept to go on that trip? Why didn't you stay when I asked you to? There were many questions you wished to ask, but knew you'd probably never hear the answer to.

"Uh… shouldn't I have picked up?"

The other person in the line suddenly says, their voice cheerful and so painfully familiar. You wondered if there was anyone else in the world that could have his voice, and now that you paid attention to it, you could hear his calm breathing through the phone, the same one that you used to hear when you'd call each other late at night only to sleep 'together'.

It seemed almost impossible to be him, but this time you wished to fool yourself just a little bit.

"Kaeya?"

And you can swear you hear his quiet chuckle, the one he always did when you said something silly.

"Yes, it's me."

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x gn!reader #genshin angst #diluc x reader #diluc angst #kaeya x reader #kaeya angst

51 notes · View notes

brabblesblog · 7 hours

Text

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 14: He looked at me like I was the stars when all I’d ever felt like was the dark nothingness between them.

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

The reception is in full swing.

Professionally edited and collaborated on by my dearest friend <3 @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art by @lirotation

They were in the gardens, holding a pose, the artist furiously sketching. Ban exhaled, resisting the urge to drop her shoulders and slouch. Beside her Astarion held still effortlessly.

“Can we-” she called to the artist. “Oskar. Can we please end this for the day? It’s our fifth piece from you. I’m sure you already know what we look like by now.”

“But, to strive for perfection!” Oskar threw his hands up in the air. “You cannot possibly-”

Astarion broke his pose, wrapping a hand around her wrist before striding away. “You can, Oskar. I’m sure an artist of your caliber can fill the blanks in with their formidable imagination.”

Before Oskar could respond, he had already led Ban away.

That was the last portrait for the day; they had spent the past two hours posing for various artists to put down preliminary sketches.

Astarion felt Ban lean against him and press her temple against his shoulder. “Another quick change,” she grumbled, “and then onto the reception.”

“Remind me. Which dress are you changing into?”

She frowned, thinking. “The same as the first. I have one less than you do.”

They arrived at the bedroom, making sure not to pass by the ballroom where the guests had been mingling. The ensembles had been moved there ahead of them and Ban flopped onto the bed, closing her eyes. Not even their most lengthy ball had come close to the amount of preparation or the duration of this wedding, and she privately wished they had merely eloped.

“I cannot wait for this to be over.”

He smirked, the sight of her sprawled on the bed both endearing and arousing, and his fingers flew over the clasps on his suit. He undid it enough to bare his chest, then crawled on top of her, straddling her hips.

“Because you’re exhausted, darling? A pity. I had all sorts of plans for tonight.” He smirked as she opened her eyes to glare at him.

“I’m sure some blood will perk me up.” Ban waved a hand dismissively.

Astarion took her words to heart, eagerly arching his neck in invitation. She ran gentle fingers down his neck, tracing his old scars, and he shivered.

“Your restraint finally failing you?” The soft touch of her fingers, her thumb caressing his Adam’s apple, the sheer nearness of her body under his - so godsdamned close… as much as he wanted to wait until tonight to break his fast, his head nodded of its own volition.

He leaned down, her hand wrapping around the back of his neck - a position reminiscent of the first night he’d bitten her, he thought with some amusement - and she bit down, fangs sinking into him with that familiar cold, sharp bite. Astarion didn’t fight it, hips pressing against her and rolling with a deliberate, delicious slowness, savoring the friction of his cock dragging across her mound.

“Perhaps,” he drawled. “You’d best be certain not to spill this time, Ban. You do not want these clothes- oh.”

She had licked up the wounds, and had kissed her way to his ear, licking around its edges. His body jerked, the thrust of his hips no longer quite controlled.

“You minx,” he growled, although there was little bite in it. “I never agreed to anything more than biting.”

“Mm.” Another long, slow pass of her tongue, drawing out a whine from him. “And yet you have not pulled away.”

He felt her hands beginning to roam his chest, stroking the hard planes of muscle. His heart raced at the contact and he bit his lip.

“Ban. Lower.”

“As you wish, my lord,” she purred playfully, sensually, drifting her hand over taut abdominal muscles before palming his erection.

He bucked, helpless against the need that filled him. Too long. Far too long. He reached between them to tug down his trousers, revealing the head of his cock. He gasped and his eyes shut as he felt Ban trace the slit gently, collecting his precum.

“I said my vows today,” she whispered against his ear, her hand sliding into his trousers and wrapping around his length, “but there are more. More things to tell you, things I wish I’d told you long ago.” She caressed his cheek, in time with a long, slow stroke, and he whined.

More. Was this her rising to the challenge he’d given her last night? Either way, he found himself entirely at her mercy. Whatever words were soon to fall from her lips, they were words he would die to hear, words he felt would heal every single ache he had ever endured. She pulled at his waistband, freeing his length before taking him in her grasp once more; the tightness and feel of her hand around his cock caused a long twitch. His lips parted, only one word on them - a prayer.

“Please.”

She kissed his forehead, a soft press of lips so achingly tender, a perfect contrast to the firm strokes of his cock. He rolled his hips, palms flat on the bed on either side of her, eyes squeezed shut.

“You…” she began, “are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes upon. I remember it as if it were yesterday - the scent of the sea, the rustling of the trees - and you, hair shining in the midday sun, asking for help. Gorgeous. Ethereal. Perfect.” The last words were breathed against his ear, and he leaned down further, as far as he could go, wanting to hear every last syllable.

He could see it in his mind’s eye, her body pressed against his, his dagger inches away from her throat. The sun, beating down on him. Her in camp. The clearing. She dragged her hand slowly, the pressure on his cock divine, and he grunted.

She cupped his cheek, tracing the sharp lines with her thumb. “But there was more to you than just looks. Your voice, your humor, your heart,” and she tutted as he scoffed, placing her palm flat against his chest, “everything. You. I loved you even before I understood what that meant. I wanted to keep you safe. I wanted you to be happy.”

He savored all her words, panting as he listened, his ass clenching as the thrust into her hand. He reached down, running his fingers along the delicate curve of her wrist, a silent plea for her to keep going. "You're incredible, you know that?"

“Shush. We’re talking about you, Astarion.”

His name, purred from her lips, spurred him on.

The delicious feel of her palm stroking him, the memories - of then and today, watching her walk down the aisle towards him, to him.

His hips bucked faster, mindlessly rutting against her strokes, soft pants the only sound he was able to make. He was close, he knew; he’d need very little more - a few more swipes across his tip, a caress at the sensitive bottom of his cockhead and he’d be done-

No. Not yet. He gently pulled at her hand, a quick, soft tug that she didn’t even seem to notice. Her strokes increased in speed, sensing he was close and wanting to push him over.

He swallowed hard, the rush of thoughts suddenly feeling like they were drowning him. The nights under the tent, his fingers and tongue deep inside her, those final nights when she’d finally touched him again, just like this, but also every single day since they’d found their way back to one another - soft gazes, breathless moans in the night, his name, whispered from her lips - something he would never tire of. Her in her wedding dress, nervously making her vows to him. The entire month spent longing for her, forcing himself to calm whenever he’d been overwhelmed with wanting, his cock so desperate for any friction that the slightest touch had him rock hard. Just a few more hours and his fast would be ended in exactly the way he’d hoped for all these weeks, all he had to do was hold out just a bit longer.

He gripped Ban’s wrist more tightly, but again she didn’t notice; he could feel himself teetering over the edge - one more stroke and he’d no doubt spill into her hand. His heart was racing, his breathing rapid, and he felt a little dizzy and he was so, so close and she still hadn’t stopped…

No. Not yet. Not until tonight. Not like this. Not when I’m overwhelmed. Not-

“Sussur!”

Immediately she let go, the edges of his orgasm fading as he leaned back and flexed his thighs to keep from spilling over the edge. Her hands cupped his face and she scanned his features, worry etched in hers.

“What happened? Did I do something wrong? I’m so sorry, please,” she said, the words tumbling out in a nervous rush.

He shook his head quickly, lowering himself to lay on top of her. The sensation of his still-sensitive cock pressing against her made him moan.

“No, my love. It just slipped out, you did nothing wrong. In fact,” he turned to meet her gaze, head nestled between her breasts, “you…”

He found the words stuck on his throat. He cleared it, and tried again. “I did not quite expect…”

“For me to stop? Of course I would.” She ran her fingers through his curls; he leaned into the touch. He’d have to re-style his hair before they left the room.

“I know.” He blinked back tears, surprised to even feel them welling up in the first place. “I knew you would,” he clarified, “but there was a small part of me that feared, in that split second after I said it…”

“That your wishes would not be honored,” Ban finished for him. Her hands slid down his back and held him tight.

He nodded. “That was the first thing that came to mind.” Too many memories flashed through his mind, of people who refused to heed his wishes, who’d laughed and-

He shook his head. He wouldn’t think of that today.

“T-thank you,” he whispered, nuzzling against her more firmly. He hated the waver in his voice, but there was nothing for it.

“Of course.” Her fingers traced the embroidery on his suit jacket. “Would you tell me what went wrong, love?”

“Nothing, really. I wanted to save it for tonight.” He smiled at her, a little uncertain. “I did not want it right now, in between all these proceedings. Hurried. I was extremely close but you seemed to think my attempts to stop you were encouragement, and I began to feel a bit… anxious.”

Ban considered this. “I understand. I’m sorry, Astarion. I didn’t realize. You made me come earlier, and I thought I’d return the favor.” He could tell she knew there was more to it. “Was this all…” she waved a hand, “too much?”

“A little. But I wouldn’t consider it something bad, merely overwhelming, and definitely not how I wanted to break my fast.”

She frowned. “I’m so sor-”

He laughed, crawling up to kiss her. “Don’t you dare apologize. It was wonderful, and I found myself too close far too soon.” He looked down at himself; the dull ache of his unsatisfied need made his cock throb painfully. He pulled away, rolled off of her and sat up. He tucked himself back in. “I’d very much love to continue hearing all those words of yours. Tonight.”

“Still think I’m not up to the challenge?” she asked, stretching on the bed.

He shook his head. “With a little more practice, you might hope to at least contend with me.”

She snorted and nudged him with her foot. “Hm. I doubt tha-”

He caught her ankle in his grasp, running his fingers on the underside of her foot, tickling her. She squealed, and he let her go, smirking. “See? You have a ways to go, Ban.”

She rolled her eyes and propped herself up on her elbows. “Fine.” One last stretch, and she sat up. “Let’s get changed. We have a long night ahead of us.”

He hummed in response, his thoughts focused entirely on what they would be doing after the reception.

Astarion sipped from his goblet as he watched two of his ghouls drag Volo away. Satisfied the party crasher had been dealt with, he scanned the rest of the room. There was Ban, in deep conversation with Jaheira, Minsc hovering with that rat on his shoulder. He hadn’t seen them in what felt like ages. Those two had departed soon after the Netherbrain had been defeated, with nary a goodbye - then again, no one had really bid him farewell, other than Gale.

He watched Karlach and Wyll depart for Avernus, watched Lae’zel fly off on her dragon. Stood there, side by side with Ban, who was bloodied and noticeably injured. He slipped an arm around her waist, and for once she did not shy away, leaning on him, too exhausted to even level a snide remark.

That night they had a small party to celebrate, Gale, Halsin, Shadowheart, Jaheira and Minsc were with them. They hardly paid him any mind, he may as well not even have come. He sulked at the furthest end of the table, face mostly buried in his cup. Conversation flowed over him, as it always had since the rite - at this point there was little point in listening or trying to participate.

He flicked his eyes over to her mug. Seeing it empty, he wordlessly picked it up and headed for the bar. When he came back, Jaheira and Minsc had already turned in for the night. Halsin and Shadowheart stood to leave without a word. Only Gale remained, and Ban, of course.

“I must head to bed as well,” Gale said, nodding to him as he approached. “I do hope we keep in contact.”

He stood silently as Gale wrapped his arms around Ban one last time then nodded at him - Astarion allowed himself the smallest of nods in response - and watched Gale retire to his room.

That night he whisked Ban away to the Crimson Palace.

So much has changed since then, he thought, staring at the bottom of his goblet. Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he looked over to see Minsc waving at him. He raised his hand awkwardly, waving back. He could see Jaheira, eyeing him with what looked like slight wariness. He waved to her as well.

Ban’s thoughts touched his. I told them everything. They like you better now.

Better? I was under the impression they did not like me at all. He put the goblet down on a passing server’s tray.

He felt her amusement through their bond. Jaheira liked you well enough to attempt to visit.

There was that. In the early days Jaheira had attempted to gain access to the Crimson Palace under the guise of delivering sweets and pastries for the lord of the house. Astarion had assumed it an attempt to curry his favor and spy on them at the same time, and he had always sent a servant to receive the gifts in his stead. Always outside the gates, never allowing her to take a single step onto the palace grounds. Ban had not corresponded with her much, if at all, which had been fine by him.

The pastries had always tasted good, at least.

She did bring a large batch over today, as a gift.

Do tell her I genuinely appreciate them, then, even if I didn’t appreciate her frankly blatant attempts to spy on us back then.

Astarion! Indignation, but still mostly mirth. He smiled as Ban turned towards him, eyebrows raised.

I merely jest. Tell them thank you for gracing us with their presence today. Seeing everyone under one roof again is most rewarding, especially now that we’re hosting it. He rolled his eyes, even though he knew she couldn’t see it.

He ended their link after one final snort from Ban, and continued surveying the guests.

There was the bard he’d hired to send messages to Gale when Ban had been taken - he’d proven to be surprisingly skilled, after all. He caught sight of Meiros with his wife, arm in arm, mingling with a crowd of artisans. He saw Lady Jannath and Oskar dancing and scoffed; the man sorely needed lessons.

A soft tap on his shoulder caught his attention. The twins stood before him, wearing identical dresses, one in green and one in blue. He bowed his head. “Enxisys. Miaxisys. A pleasure. I am glad you could join us tonight.”

“Your ceremony was in the sun, so we… decided to run a little late,” Miaxisys said, offering him her hand, which he took and pressed a soft kiss to.

“Apologies.” He turned to Enxisys, taking her hand and kissing it as well. “I trust you two have had a safe and uneventful journey otherwise? My wife and I would be more than happy to share our blood stores for the duration of your stay.”

Enxisys raked her eyes over him, a look that never failed to make him want to curl his lip and snap, but he merely offered a smile.

“We’ve had no trouble,” she said, eyes still fixed on his features, “but we shan’t stay long. We will be likely to ask for a bottle or two for the journey home, however, since I’m certain you wouldn’t be amenable to us helping ourselves to…” she glanced around, “...fresher sources.”

“We try not to create tension between us and the local government.” Astarion’s eyes flicked over to Ulder. “As such, we operate within the limits of what they might consider tolerable. Blood procured from our staff and other willing volunteers - with compensation, of course. A criminal or two, if I should desire something with a little more spice to it.” Ban never indulged in that, but he held out hope that she might consider it one day. Hunting with her would be most alluring. “If you would like one, I’m certain I can arrange something with Ulder.” He nodded over to the man.

“The Grand Duke himself.” Miaxisys shook her head. “We’ll settle for the bottles. We have more than enough volunteers at home.”

Enxisys simpered. “We hope to see you again soon, Lord Ancunín. Congratulations.”

“And thank you,” Miaxisys added under her breath.

Astarion watched them move away, hand in hand, beelining for Halsin. Allowing himself a moment of wry amusement, he observed them try and fail to capture Halsin’s attention.

“Entertained?” Ban’s voice whispered against his ear, wrapping her arm around him. He looked down at her, smiling, but before he could reply she fed him a piece of calamari from her plate. Delicious.

“Halsin,” he intoned, gesturing to the twins, “won’t be so easily swayed by vampires, I think. Even when they come in as pretty a package as those two.” He took her plate, placing it on a table. “A dance, my love?”

“Oh, you never know.” Ban nodded and took his hand, leading him to the dance floor. “Halsin isn’t usually opposed to a more casual arrangement.”

His expression darkened for a fraction of a second as he gripped her waist, a small grunt his only response. Immediately she placed a hand on his chest, smoothing down a crease in his one-shouldered cape.

“I know. What I did…it wasn’t the best thing, nor the right thing to do.” Her eyes flicked away, and he felt her tense in his arms. “Not for Halsin, or for Gale, but especially not for you.”

He was quiet for a few moments, then pressed his forehead against hers, exhaling roughly. “Halsin and I have made amends. The same is true with Gale, and more so between you and I.” He met her gaze. “There’s little need to bring old issues to the fore on a day like this.”

All the same, he reveled in the knowledge that she’d come to see the pain she had caused him. He twirled her in his arms, taking them further into the throng of people on the dance floor. The other dancers cleared away as they spun towards them. Astarion took care to not move too fast; she wasn’t the most graceful person, and he made sure that each step was carefully choreographed, occasionally whispering a quick left foot to her as they danced. It was ridiculous to think that they’d hosted countless parties and she’d yet to master the waltz, but that was Ban - for all her strength there was none of the dexterity.

As their dance came to an end, he drew closer, tracing his thumb over her lip, his mouth mere inches away from slotting against hers, when Ban turned around. He huffed, exasperated, then looked past her to see the illithid. It took a moment to recall his name - fleeting images of the dark and surprisingly beautiful myconid colony came to mind - until he locked onto it. Omeluum.

“I see the Society of Brilliance received our invitations and sent its best representatives. Omeluum. Blurg.” He nodded at each in turn; the hobgoblin’s name he remembered easily enough.

The illithid’s mind reached for his, the tendrils of thought very unlike Ban’s. He had to resist the urge to shy away, clenching his jaw. It had been more than a year since the tadpoles, after all.

Congratulations. The nuptials were wonderful. Omeluum scanned the ballroom; Astarion could not read anything on his expression. The tentacles lifted, hovering, a language he would never understand, nor did he want to.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly. Blurg stepped forward, pressing a tome into his hands. Before he could ask, Omeluum spoke.

The Society has heard about your… contract. Blurg and I thought you may wish to know more.

Astarion glanced at the cover. Infernal Pacts: A Guide. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Thank you again, but I do think my contract was completed most satisfactorily. That is enough for me.”

“What a lovely piece for our collection, regardless,” Ban offered, her voice conciliatory, taking the book gently. “Thank you, Omeluum. We greatly appreciate it. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll ensure this is properly stored.” As Ban headed off to place the book with their other gifts, Astarion shifted, a little awkward.

Blurg spoke up. “Are you a daywalker now, Astarion?” His hands hovered, as if he wished to poke and prod, no doubt curious about the Ascendant’s newfound powers. “I’m sure the society would love a chance to study-”

“Absolutely not.” It came out in a hiss; he cleared his throat. “I understand that my circumstances are unique, but I do not wish to be prodded and examined like some experiment.”

As Blurg mumbled an apology, he waved his hand. “None taken. I do hope you both enjoy the rest of the evening.” Astarion hurried off before Omeluum or Blurg could make some other inane comment that pushed his patience to the limit.

He settled onto his throne, eyeing Ban’s, which had been installed closely beside his. Surveying the ballroom gave him an odd sense of satisfaction, but also of melancholy. Here was everyone he’d ever cared about, however little, all under one roof. He wondered how many of them came for her more than him, but he brushed that aside. Her or him - it mattered little. They were one, and everyone had come from far and wide, for them.

He spied Ban bowing out of a conversation with Dame Aylin and Isobel, heading to the bedrooms for her final outfit change. He stood, quickly heading that way as well.

Astarion caught up to her right outside their bedroom door, playfully grabbing her wrist and tugging her to him. “Tut, tut. You left without telling me,” he chided.

“You were on the throne, leering at everyone. I figured you were having fun.”

He rolled his eyes. “Not as much fun as I’d have watching you undress.”

“Touché.”

It was quicker this time, each of them slipping out of their elaborate clothes without much fuss. He helped her with the buttons on the back of her dress, wordlessly undoing them, refraining - with some effort - from pressing himself against her backside. He could not, however, resist kissing his way down her bare skin.

She laughed, a soft, tinkling sound that made his heart soar. Her smile was radiant when she turned to face him. “A few hours more, and you can do everything you’ve been wanting to do to me.”

He nodded, a bit preoccupied with his thoughts. He felt her hand cup his cheek, bringing his gaze back to her. “Something wrong?”

“No. Nothing significant.” He gestured towards the party. “The Society seems overly curious about my… condition.”

“You are unique. I’m not surprised they’d want to at least ask a few questions.” She headed off to grab her next and final ensemble, a blood-red and black dress. His suit hung behind the door, red and gold to match. He unhooked it and began to tug it on, frowning.

“That much is true, I suppose. I merely dislike being looked at like…” he trailed off. Like he wasn’t a person, rather something to be poked at and prodded. He’d had more than enough of that in his life.

She looked to him, her hands stilling where they were pulling the dress up halfway on her body. “I know. I’m sorry. They… they don’t know.”

“A fair point.”

She approached him, turning in a silent request for him to tie up the lacing. As he did, he cleared his throat. “All this,” he began, “the people, the party… they would not be here if it were not for you.”

“Don’t think that.”

“Not thinking something does not make it untrue.” He turned her around. “They like me well enough - the snippy, prickly vampire lord, held on a leash by the hero of Baldur’s Gate.” He knew he sounded bitter, and didn’t care. While he was glad they no longer saw him as a monster, this was still a rather unpleasant truth to swallow.

“Astarion,” she turned to face him. “Our companions think more of you than just that.”

“They do, now. How about the rest?” He raised an eyebrow. When she didn’t answer, he placed a firm kiss on her lips.

“I am completely aware of what they see me as. What they think of me, of all this. Perhaps they also judge you too, or blame me for corrupting you,” he held up a hand to shush her as she tried to speak, “but the point is - they’re here for you.”

They spoke at the same time.

“It doesn’t matter what they think-”

“None of it matters-”

He laughed. “I suppose we agree on that, at least.”

She buried herself in his chest, and he planted an affectionate kiss at the top of her head, gently rocking her, settling his chin on the spot where his lips were just moments ago.

“I know none of it matters,” he repeated. “It… stings, at moments, but it isn’t anything new, or anything unexpected. I mentioned it to highlight one simple thing, however.”

“Which is?”

“You.” He lifted her face off his chest, fixing her with his gaze. “You, simply put. My wife.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “They see you. Your bravery and strength,” he paused, “your heart.”

“Which we both know to be neither kind nor nice.”

He snorted. “They don’t need to know that. Besides, people judge your merit by your deeds, not your thoughts.”

“Oddly wise, coming from you.” She nudged him. He turned her around again to finish tying up her dress.

“I am two centuries old, Ban. You pick up some things along the way.”

They waltzed amongst the crowd, the party in full swing now. They made a striking pair, both dressed in red. He lowered her for a dip he knew she’d have to have extra assistance with and he felt her falter; he quickly gripped her waist and straightened up, effortlessly taking her with him.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, and he stifled a laugh.

“Clumsy as ever, darling.”

She looked down. “These shoes are too high. You can’t even see them through the dress - I have no idea why I decided to wear these.”

“Well…” he squeezed her thigh through the layers of fabric. “They would show, if your husband decided to ruck up your skirt, perhaps as you sat in his lap on his throne…”

“Would you like that?” She pressed against his body; he swallowed down a wave of desire.

“Perhaps another night, when I’m not so…” he thought for a moment, biting his lip, “on edge.”

They moved across the dance floor effortlessly, thanks to his careful guidance. Astarion saw Halsin approaching from the corner of his eye.

“Astarion, Ban,” Halsin made a small bow. “May I have the honor of dancing with the bride for a song?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

Ban took Halsin’s hand and Astarion watched them for a moment before turning to find another partner. He spied Shadowheart and Lae’zel in the corner and decided on the safer option of the two. Shadowheart would be less likely to eviscerate him. Probably.

Ban held on to Halsin’s thick frame. The two of them were dancing as simple a waltz as they could, seeing as neither had any skill in it.

“I never found an opportunity to tell you, Ban, but I am glad things went well for you and Astarion,” he rumbled. She could smell a faint whiff of earth, and gazed up at him.

She shrugged. “Who knew, right? From the grove to here - and look at you in a suit!”

His laugh made people look at them. “A rare sight, indeed. You should consider yourself lucky.”

“Or cursed. It honestly depends.”

Halsin’s smile remained, and he looked over to where Astarion was dancing with Shadowheart. She looked as well and noted that they made a fine pair, weaving through the crowd with far more grace than Ban could ever hope to achieve.

“Hm.” He looked back at her ruefully. “Fate is never predictable. Much like nature, we are simply subject to its whims, capricious and ever-changing as they are.”

She nodded in agreement. “I am glad… that you and Astarion seemed to have made amends, even before the wedding. I wasn’t privy to your conversation back in Reithwin, but I assume it went really well.”

“It was not too difficult, and it did go well. He was far more willing to listen than I expected him to be, judging from when I had met him last.”

“And considering what had happened between us,” she finished for him. “Which, well. It was a complicated mess. I knew he wouldn’t like it, but I did it anyway, to spite him. I had a wonderful time, but... I’m sorry for dragging you into it.”

Halsin’s brow furrowed. “It was a difficult time, and none of us were completely to blame.”

“You carry none of the blame, Halsin.”

He opened his mouth, as if to argue, but with a shake of her head he nodded. “Then I shall accept that.”

She searched for a change in topic, and cleared her throat. “I trust the children are in safe hands tonight?”

“They are. I shall leave tomorrow, to make sure they don’t miss me too much. I’ve already spent far too much time away from them to whittle your wedding present; I do not wish to be parted from them any longer.”

“Is it… in the same vein as the previous gift?” She could not help but ask.

Halsin chuckled. “Unfortunately, no. This one is to hopefully adorn your mantlepiece.”

As Halsin spoke, Ban noticed Astarion and Shadowheart moving towards them, likely to swap partners.

“Halsin.” Astarion smiled, “May I have my wife back, please?”

Ban scanned his features, looking to see if there was any lingering tension there, but he seemed to be perfectly sincere. She took her husband’s hand and Shadowheart took Halsin’s.

“You took him out for a spin,” Ban told her, “and did his skill justice better than I ever could. You’re both so graceful, it was beautiful to watch.”

Shadowheart arched her eyebrows. “Just a little more practice, that’s all.” She shot Astarion a wink, then was swept away in Halsin’s arms.

“What was that for?” Ban raised an eyebrow at Astarion.

He smirked. “Shadowheart had a gift, which she thinks you’ll find enjoyable.”

“Enjoyable?” She immediately felt a little suspicious. “What would that be?”

“And ruin the surprise? Tch.” He shook his head. “But considering what she and I saw back with that priest of Loviatar…”

Ban pursed her lips. “Fine.” But she deliberately slipped her hand lower, skating over the swell of Astarion’s ass. His eyes widened and he bared his fangs playfully.

“You’ll be thoroughly punished for that, you know?”

“Mhm. But not before I make a mess out of you first.” The response obviously caught him off guard; he blinked twice, his breath hitching as his pupils dilated. He recovered after a long moment, a smirk growing on his face.

“I’d like to see you try.”

As if he hadn’t almost come undone under her touch earlier tonight. She let it stand, however, closing her eyes as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. They swayed in silence, allowing the music to sweep across them. She felt his mind reach for hers; there was that soft, soothing sensation of his mind wrapping around hers. They danced.

Her feet, aching from the heeled shoe. His, snug in his usual wyrmhide loafers. The weight of her gown tugging on her every move, her scalp, pulled tight by her braids. She no longer felt it usually, but she did as Astarion took note of it.

His hand slipped off her waist, tugging a hairpin out. He tucked it in his pocket, tucked an errant strand behind her ear and then watched her curiously.

“You’re going to mess my hair up, if you take out more,” she warned.

A smile graced his features. “Perhaps that’s the idea.” He pulled out more, loosening her hair further. She was about to complain, then realized he was leading her to her throne.

“Sit.” His voice was firm, and she sighed, settling on the black throne. He knelt in front of her, hands slipping underneath the massive skirt of her gown.

She panicked, wondering if he was tipsy enough to actually do this with all the guests present. She gripped his wrist in alarm, but he shook his head at her. Ban prepared to protest yet again, when she felt his fingers unstrap her shoe and slip it off her tired foot. He pressed his thumbs on the arch, soothing it. The other shoe followed soon thereafter.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

She conceded then, allowed him to massage her feet until they no longer ached so much. He slowly put them down on the dais. As he leaned back, seemingly satisfied, she leaned forward and grabbed his face for a deep kiss. “Thank you. I have no doubt this will just make me look worse, but…” she shrugged.

He chuffed out a small laugh. “Whoever said I’m doing this for you? I might merely be preparing for tonight.” His thoughts, however, were filled with nothing but warmth. He stood up and offered her his hand.

She took it, tilting her head in confusion. Was he… she didn’t look proper, with her hair half undone and barefoot. As he pulled on her hand she held back.

I’m not properly dressed anymore.

He rounded on her, taking her other hand and tugging on both, a smile on his lips. “I don’t care, and neither will they, especially if they value their lives. You look absolutely radiant. Place your feet on mine,” he instructed, taking a step forward so she could do so.

She grew even more confused. “I’m not sure-”

The smile grew wider. “I’ve got you, darling. Haven’t you learned that by now?”

She nodded, carefully standing on his feet. He held her close in a snug grip, tucking her close to his body, and then he spun.

The pace was fast, faster than any of their dances today or any of their balls, faster than any amount of practice could achieve. She had tried her best to keep up with him during dance rehearsals, but she had never come close. Dexterity and finesse came naturally to Astarion, after all, and compared to him she felt like she had leaden feet. Let alone his vampiric speed. The pace of it almost took her breath away, the world blurring to just the rush of air across her face, the tight grip Astarion had on her body, and his breathing, soft against her ear, faster from exertion.

Her vision began to swim, and she locked her gaze on his eyes, the only thing that seemed to stay stationary. The world spun around them, the music and the chattering of the crowd loud, but none of it mattered. The exhaustion of the day finally felt like it was ebbing away, and she found herself shooting him a grin, to which he responded in kind.

“Finally a dance you can be proud of,” he teased, and she shook her head, admitting defeat.

She closed her eyes, melting into his grasp, resting her head on his chest. She heard a soft, contented hum and felt a quick press of lips to her temple, and for the first time today, she allowed herself to relax.

Bonus: All wedding outfits can be seen here

27 notes · View notes

honeybeezgobzzzzz · 3 days

Text

🗡️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Sixteen

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Explicit Language.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~3.2k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Shanks somehow finagled a table at the local popular tavern, the highlight of the town and a restaurant that was always busy. With the way he causally spoke to the hostess, slipped her a few Berry, and even winked at the barman, you quickly figured out that he had been to this establishment before. So as you sat down, your hat still hanging on your back, and gave the pirate a look of scrutiny. He eyed you with a curved smile. You didn’t bother wasting time with decorum or tact.

“Alright, how many times have you and the men come to this place and drained their liquor?” You asked point blank. “Because that trick with the hostess and eye with the barman have not gone unnoticed.”

“We like to stop at this island for supplies, and a good day of drinking after a long stint at sea is a good reward.” Shanks explained to you.

“Day?” You broached, your eyebrow rising. “More like days.” His smile curved further for you truly did know him and the men quite well at this point.

“Fair point, treasure,” He agreed with you. “But we did enjoy a meal or two here. Even Roux likes the food.”

Well if Lucky liked the food, it had to be good. His taste in food were more refined than yours and you had been subjected to many refined dishes. Albeit you had only been allowed to try small bites in very small portions. In essence, this tavern was going to have splendid food and you were excited to try one of the dishes.

As you scanned the menu, Shanks leaned back in his chair, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I recommend the seafood platter," he suggested casually, his tone betraying a hint of amusement. "It's a specialty here."

You raised an eyebrow at him, knowing all too well he had already bought you his allowance of extravagance for the day.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his attempt to persuade you into ordering the most expensive item on the menu. "Nice try, dear,” you teased, flipping through the pages of the menu. "But you already got to play that tune today. Try again.”

Shanks laughed wholeheartedly at your response, enjoying the playful banter between the two of you. You hadn’t bothered to ease up on him at all throughout the day, why would you stop now? “Alright then," he said, still grinning. "How about we split a few dishes? That way we can try more than one thing and I promise to let you choose the next place we dine at."

You couldn't resist his offer, knowing that there was no way he could convince you to order something extravagant this night but also very happy to hear such compromise and a promise of another outing. Setting back in your seat, you smiled and inclined your head.

“That sounds enjoyable, I think I would like that,” You replied, “I’d be a shame to not try more than one dish from this island. May I presume you know what is best on the menu?” I.e. it better not be the most expensive dishes.

Shanks chuckled at your warning remark, keep it moderate not expensive. He knew the best dishes on the menu that would be pleasing in both palate and wallet. "I assure you, I know my way around a menu," he teased, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Let's start with some local favorites, shall we? The grilled fish caught this morning is a must-try, and their vegetable medley is surprisingly delicious."

“That sounds surprisingly appropriate, and incredibly delicious,” You sighed out, already dreaming of mouth watering, flaking fish, perfectly cooked local vegetables. It was a freshness you had come to adore.

“I take it you approve?”

“Oh I more than approve,” You grinned. “And, perhaps, will be a bit mad if you order otherwise now that you’ve teased me with such deliciousness.”

With a widening, curvy smile, Shanks turned his attention to the approaching barmaid. He ordered exactly as promised and with a promise of drinks and warm bread, the barmaid departed.

A smile of contentment spread across your face, admiring Shanks' impeccable taste. The thought of freshly caught grilled fish and a colorful vegetable medley made your mouth water. As you eagerly awaited the arrival of your meal, you couldn't help but take in the enchanting atmosphere of the tavern. The sound of joyful chatter, clinking glasses, and the alluring scents of various dishes created a warm and romantic ambiance that swept you away.

Shanks leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. His easy smile and carefree demeanor contradict the strength and wisdom that lay beneath the surface. You found yourself drawn to him in a way that didn’t scare you, but exhilarated you, his presence like a magnetic force that pulled you in. You couldn’t image a day without his inhumanly teasing smile.

“Your drinks,” The barmaid announced, materializing at the table with a glass of wine and glencairn in one hand, and a basket with bread wrapped in cloth in the other. She set your drinks down and placed the bread front and center. “Your meal will be out in a moment!”

Your fingers curled around the slender stem of the wine glass, tracing its elegant curves as you swirled the deep red liquid inside. Each sip was a symphony on your tongue, a dance of flavors that left you wanting more. Shanks watched you from across the table, his fiery red hair catching the soft glow of candlelight. You couldn't resist teasing him with a small smirk before taking another luxurious sip.

"This is truly exceptional," you murmured, locking eyes with Shanks and raising an eyebrow in appreciation. "You have excellent taste in wine."

He chuckled, bringing his own glass to his lips and taking a slow drink. "I know my alcohol," he corrected smoothly, his eyes never leaving yours as he took in your reaction to the wine. “It also pays to be friends with Mihawk.”

As you began nibbling on fresh, warm, and buttered bread, Shanks could see the soft flicker of candlelight reflected in your eyes, highlighting the spark of wonder and excitement that danced within. But now, as you took another sip of the rich red wine, your features softened into an expression of pure contentment, and he couldn't help but stare at the beauty of it. How hard he had been working to pull that sight from behind your tightly guarded walls. Your eyes flickered back to his and you could see a myriad of emotions swirling in their depths, a silent conversation passing between the two of you.

In that instance, surrounded by the cozy ambiance of the tavern and the delicious smells of food drifting around you, it seemed as though everything else had disappeared. It was just the two of you, in your own little corner of the world.

“I think I am dying,” you softly complained, slowly walking away from the tavern as lanterns were slowly being illuminated by hand.

“I told you not to eat that much, Aria,” Shanks chided you half heartedly, happy to see you still so content. You let out a grumble in protest and pressed a hand against your stomach.

“But those vegetables,” you sighed wistfully, fighting against drooling once more over the thought of eating more of the island-grown produce you had, very unladylike might you add, stuffed your face with earlier. You had no regrets. Shanks didn’t care about your lack of manners or decorum in front of him; all he wanted was for you to enjoy yourself. And you had. You had very much and were now paying the price.”Worth it,”

“Aye, I suppose its a far better vice than the bottle,” Shanks agreed with a laugh. “Though a sentiment our men will disagree upon.”

“Then its a good thing they aren’t here to spoil such sentiments.” You rebutted, leaning into his side with a giggle. “I love them dearly, but they have such one tracked minds at times.”

Shanks gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his warmth seeping into your skin and easing the discomfort of your overindulged stomach. You walked together towards the boardwalk, dodging other couples and villagers out for an evening stroll on the cobbled streets. The sunset was shaping up to be a stunning one. Living on the Red Force had allowed you to witness many sunsets, but this one felt particularly beautiful. Golden rays of light created a radiant pathway across the serene harbor, a perfect ending to a marvelous day.

Stepping foot onto the well worn and salted boardwalk, you and Shanks strolled to a spot devoid of people and fisherman. Pausing at the railing, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. This day had been exactly what you needed. As the salty breeze tousled your hair, you felt a gentle touch on your head. Opening your eyes, you saw Shanks beside you, a tender smile playing on his lips. He reached out, his fingers deftly fixing the stray strands of hair that had tangled themselves in your new earrings from the wind.

“I should have bought you hair clips,” Shanks mused, joking of course, but enjoying the brief scowl that appeared on your face. “Wouldn’t want your beauty to be smothered by your lovely hair.”

Rolling your eyes, you let out a small huff and indulged in the light touches of his fingers occasionally brushing against your cheek. Rather than simply reject his joke, you decided to dish it right back with a witty smile. With an innocent tone and a slight smirk playing at the corner of your glowing smile, you offered, “Perhaps next time?"

Shanks laughed heartily at your response, his fingers still caressing your cheek. "I'll have to keep that in mind," he said playfully.

Your laugh was lost the sound of the waves gently crashing against the dock below. Standing face to face, you gazed up at Shanks, admiring how his hair seemed to glow crimson. Giggles fading, you stared into his eyes and felt your heart clench in your chest. You placed your hand on his chest, over his own heart to distract yourself from the almost suffocating feeling building in your body.

“Did you enjoy today?” Shanks broached softly.

"Immensely," you soft spoke, your voice barely above a breath. Your hand lingered on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips, it was so steady compared to the erratic thrumming of your own pulse. “Did you?”

Shanks smiled warmly at your response, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. The fading light of the sunset painted shadows on his face, accentuating the lines around his eyes that crinkled with his smile. Leaning in closer, he whispered, “You make even the simplest days extraordinary, treasure.” His words hung in the air, charged with unspoken emotions that crackled like electricity between you. Be still my beating heart I can hardly hear myself think!

His face drew near yours, your breath caught in your throat. You might have thought about how Collins had never kissed you and you were grateful for that. But instead, your thoughts were consumed by the intense want and need to kiss Shanks. Kiss Shanks? The thought made heat rush to your cheeks but the embarrassment for those thoughts were buried under hazel eyes. His hand moved from your hair to gently cup your face, his thumb tracing a soft line along your jaw.

As the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you standing on the creaky boardwalk, time seemed to stand still. As ridiculous as that sounded. Every nerve in your body was tingling with anticipation, the moment hanging heavy between you both. Shanks’ breath mingled with yours, warm and comforting, as he drew even closer.

The salty breeze carried the scent of the sea and the sound of seagulls crying out in the distance. But all you could focus on was Shanks, his face mere inches away from yours, his eyes searching yours for permission. Your heart shifted to a drumming in your chest, a wild rhythm matching the chaos of your thoughts. In that suspended moment, you felt a jolt of courage surge through you. Your choice. He would always give you a choice. Oh gods you loved him for that. You were moments from lifting yourself onto your toes to press your lips against his when the suspended peace was obliterated.

“This is the marines! Release Lady Bonn immediately!” Your heart plummeted as the stern voice cut through the idyllic atmosphere. The moment shattered like fragile glass, and your body immediately went into flight mode. Before you even had a chance to think up of how you would escape, Shanks was grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the incoming marines.

You stumbled after Shanks, your feet slipping on the damp wood of the boardwalk, the sound of heavy boots pounding behind you. Shouts and orders echoed behind you, and you took the chance to look over your shoulder to search for your scorned ex-groom. Nowhere. Probably wouldn’t bother putting his polished boots on such a lowly town. Certainly not when the grunts could do his dirty work for you. But why come after you? After all this time? You’d been gone for months!

By right, you should be panicking at the thought of Thomas Collins coming after you for ditching him. Fearful of what would come to you once in his grasp, dragged back to Kuri Island. This certainly was what filled Shanks’ mind. Everything was going splendidly, your little guarded heart was down and your radiance was shining so brightly it was nearly blinding. But Collins had to come along, ruining the date and most likely causing you distress! All he wanted was one damn day alone with you and he couldn’t even have that! Yet as Shanks cursed the Commodore out in his mind and headed for a narrow alleyway of the harbor town, you began giggling. Giggling!

Despite the overwhelming rush of emotions you were no doubt feeling, you didn't shrink into yourself but instead your laughter bubbled up and out with each stride. Your face was aglow with a wide, toothy grin as you ran. It felt like pure glee surging through your body, invigorating every muscle and bone. Not a trace of fear could be found within your eyes. Shanks fell more in love with you at the sight and grinned in return.

Of course he and the crew had a plan in place for every island they stopped at in the event the marines attempted to take you back. The men would meet you and him at a dock away from the main harbor.

Running along side Shanks, your hat’s strap caught against your throat. Rather than ignore the pressure, you reached up and yanked your hat from your body, throwing it down an alleyway you passed. That would buy you time, right? The briny air whipped at your hair as you ran, catching in your earrings. You’d let him buy you those hair clips after this chase! The marines' shouts grew more distant as you navigated the labyrinth pathways, their heavy footsteps struggling to keep up with your nimble movements.

“Here,” Shanks called, directing you in front of him once you had reached a hidden away dock. As predicted, the Red Force was waiting for them and running for the gang plank, Benn held out his hand for you to take. Without pausing, you clasped Benn’s hand and leaped onto the gangplank, Shanks following closely behind. The familiar creak of wood beneath your feet felt like a reassuring embrace as you hurried on board.

While you caught your breath, the crew sprang into action, releasing the ropes that tethered the ship to the dock with practiced efficiency. The sails overhead billowed as the wind caught them, propelling the Red Force away from the chaotic harbor and out to sea. But as the ship sailed into open water, a marine ship gave chase. Running to the bow, you looked closer at the marines standing on deck. Drat.

“I’m surprised he came,” You commented, a sour feeling now blooming within your stomach. Shanks materialized at your side as Benn continued to bark out orders.

“He’s not touching you,” Shanks stated firmly, his gaze unwavering as he watched the marine ship gaining on them.

“Tell him that,” You muttered as your overly dressed up ex-groom brought out a snail speaker. “Doesn’t seem to get my message.”

“Pirate vessel! By order of the marines, lower your sails and return my bride!” Collins growled into the snail speaker. You could hear his fury beneath his words. Had he been searching for you this whole time?

“Gods he sounds even more entitled than I remember,” You scoffed, remembering the way Collins had treated you before you left him waiting at the altar.

“Ignore him, Aria,” Shanks said firmly, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder in a reassuring manner. “He has no power over you now.”

“True, but I do have something to say to him,” You said before turning back to Collins. “I'd rather spend eternity consuming moldy chestnuts than tie myself to your dull-witted existence, you bumbling cretin!”

That insult sounded way better in your head than it did in real life. But it had its effect. Even from your distance you could see Collins’ face turning red in anger. Verbally rejected in front of the entire marine crew, oh that had to sting.

It went quiet on both ships as you smirked triumphantly, for you had managed to stun everyone. Particularly the marines. It wasn’t like anyone expected you to speak like that. Shanks, however, was the fastest to respond and did so by catching the side of your head. A fire burned deep within his eyes as he locked them onto yours, an intense desire emanating from his gaze. He pulled you towards him with a fierce determination and claimed your lips in a fervent kiss that left you breathless and reeling with emotion. Shanks kissed you deeply, his lips moving with a hunger that matched the intensity of his eyes.

The taste of salt from the sea air mingled with the sharpness of the whisky he’d been drinking. Breath catching in your throat, Shanks caught your inhale and urged your lips to part. You parted your lips, allowing Shanks to chase after your tongue and taste how sweet you really were. Deliciously sweet in his opinion. But as Shanks was getting high on your taste and you were basking in the sensations running across your lips and tongue, Collins’ exploded with anger.

His voice boomed with rage, veins bulging in his neck as he spat out the words. "You insolent harlot! I will not rest until that filthy pirate's head is mounted on my wall!"

You were ripping yourself from Shanks hold, hand taking the pommel of his sword and drawing it as you spun and pointed the tip at the marines. With venomous rage coursing through your veins, you brandished the sword at the Commodore. "I am going to shove this fucking blade so far up your ass that even Hongo will not be able to retrieve it!" You snarled at the Commodore. “Then I’ll let Monster rip your face off and wear it as a fu—”

A strong hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your curses and rage as you're forcefully pulled back against an all-too-familiar chest. Your free hand flailed uselessly while Shanks held you tightly, ignoring your muffled protests and growls. His livid gaze fixed on the crew of the Red Force, who all look away in guilt.

“Which one of you taught the madam how to curse?”

Date Published: 5/3/24

Last Edit: 5/3/24

Previous | Masterlist | Next

#one piece shanks #shanks x you #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks

36 notes · View notes

angel5ofp0rn · 7 hours

Text

PT 1 is here 😋

ExHusband!Price x afab!reader

more fluffy this time heh 🙂‍↕️

just Price being a dad

You wake up in John’s arms. Your heads are at the foot of the bed, and your feet near the head.

Last night didn’t stop at one time.

Of course not.

How could you two just hook up once when you’re the only ones who know each other’s bodies the way you do?

When you’ve gone two years without someone knowing worshiping your body just the way you like it?

You slowly remove John’s arm from where it was hugged your bare waist so you could sit up and stretch a bit.

God, you were sore.

You could hear the faint sound of John’s soft snoring from behind you as he laid there, still asleep.

Even in this moment of post-hookup clarity, you’re just still so connected to his presence in a way that you can hardly understand.

You lean down and kiss his cheek, your lips brushing against his prickly stubble.

You don’t know how things are going to be when he wakes, so you’ll take what you can get for now.

He lets out a small grunt as you kiss his cheek, and his body begin to shift slightly.

He’s waking up, and you know that it’s any moment before his eyes are on you again, and God knows what will happen then…

John’s eyes open.

You’re holding your breath.

His sleepy eyes still hold that same level of passion that they had last night, and your own glance back at him is just the same.

The intensity that’s in the air between you is only growing, only getting more potent, in a way that neither of you would like to let go of just yet.

“Hey.” You smile a little bit, your voice still soft and sleepy.

“G’mornin’.” He looks up at the soft smile on your face, matching it with his own lazy smirk. His gaze soon drifts back to your neck and the hickey he knows is still there.

Your eyes flicker down to his neck as well, seeing the matching hickey you left on his throat.

“I should get the kids up soon.” You sigh softly. “You should… Maybe get dressed and get to the couch. I don’t want to confuse them.”

John nods, getting up from the bed to find his clothes. The realization that this really has to end soon sinking in.

“Gonna be honest, love. Wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

You tilt your head to the side a bit. “What would you prefer, Johnathan?”

You smirk a tiny little bit as you call him by his full name; you used to do that to bug him when you were married.

He shakes his head, a breathy chuckle at how you’ve reverted to his full name now. It was always funny just how much that used to annoy him.

“I’d prefer jus’ to pick up where we left off.”

This time he lets the silence hang for a while, not bothering to fill it in. Both of you knew how complicated things were, but still neither of you wanted to acknowledge it.

“Where we left off was an ugly, screaming, crying argument.” You try not to sound too sour as you recall this.

John looks down as he hears this, trying to seem more busy with buttoning his jeans instead of acknowledging just how true that statement was.

The memory of that argument between the two of you was fresh in his mind as you brought it back up. He couldn’t argue with you, your point, or even the sour tone you had in your voice. You were right.

“And we didn’t fight. That was our rule.” You remind him, making the severity of your last fight seem even more intense.

“I know.” John sighs now, a hand now rubbing over his beard, not bothering to argue or deflect.

The rule had always been to never fight. To talk everything out. To work through your problems in a civilized manner. But that last time, that last night, things got too out of hand.

He wasn’t proud of the way things ended.

You sigh. You wipe your eyes, not realizing that you were starting to feel those intense emotions again, two years later.

You announce that you’re going to shower and then get the kids up, that John needs to get back downstairs to the couch.

After your shower, you get dressed and go to your youngest child’s room, but found the bed empty.

You quickly go to your oldest’s room, finding their bed empty as well.

“John!” You run down the stairs. “The kids-“

You freeze.

In the kitchen, you see John holding your youngest on his hip, the oldest on John’s strong back, their little arms and legs clinging around their father.

John tried not to laugh as he looked up and saw you standing in the kitchen now, seeing just how panicked you were.

“I’ve got ‘em.”

“Daddy knows how to make Mickey Mouse pancakes!” Your youngest grins widely. The normally grumpy-in-the-morning toddler was smiling like this was the best day ever.

“Anything f’r you, love.” He smiles at them, giving a kiss on the cheek before shifting his attention over to the oldest, who was still clinging to his back like a monkey. “How y’doin’ back there, buddy?”

“Awesome!” Your oldest cheers, their arms hugging around John’s neck.

Your heart aches.

Look how happy they are with their dad being home…

For a moment there, you forget all of your worries once you see those smiles on the kids’ faces,

John’s fatherly attention is getting to you.

You see how much your children are enjoying him being here, how much they love him.

How much he loves them.

You take your older child from John’s back and cover their little face with kisses, making them giggle like crazy.

“Help me set the table, little monkey.” You set the child to their feet and then handed them some silverware, while you take the plates.

“Dad’s gonna eat breakfast with us?!” Your little looked up at you with big blue eyes, as if it just clicked that John isn’t leaving right away.

“ ‘course I am.” John says, looking down at the little one and smiling as he sets a large plate of Mickey Mouse pancakes on the table.

“I wanna sit next to daddy!” The youngest says now, their eyes gleaming with the idea. The oldest had already reached their dad’s side, leaving you to finish setting up the table by yourself.

During breakfast, you notice how John is actively engaging in the conversation with the kids. He’s patiently listening to every story about a cartoon they’ve watched, answering every question about God-knows-what that they seemingly pulled out of nowhere.

Watching the love he has for them, as well as his playful nature with the both of them make you smile a bit. He’s still the same John you’d married all those years ago.

Isn’t that something.

After breakfast you have to fight to let John allow you to wash the dishes yourself.

He took the kids to the playroom and kept them entertained while you cleaned up.

Once the dishes are drying, you’re about to walk into the playroom. You pause in the hallway when you hear the kids talking to John in a hushed tone.

“Are you and mummy friends?” The youngest asks quietly.

You hear him let out a soft chuckle.

“Friends, yeah… We’re friends.” His soft tone of voice makes it evident that the subject of you two wasn’t exactly easy to talk about around the kids.

“Best friends?” The oldest pushes, the cheeky little kid.

“Yes, your mummy is my best friend.” John answers simply, unaware that you’re listening from the hall.

“Do you and mummy kiss?!” The oldest giggles, their little hands covering their mouth as if this was a question that could possibly get them in trouble.

You hear a nervous laugh escape John’s lips. He’s clearly flustered by the question from the five-year-old.

“Just what are you two cheeky kids talking about in here?” You ask as you walk in to save John, causing the two kids to burst into a giggle fit.

The youngest buries their face into John’s shoulder, not able to respond because of the giggles.

“Kissies! You and daddy have kissies! I saw it in a picture!” Your oldest says, their little tone filled with a matter-of-fact tone.

“Oh my god.” You cover your mouth, stifling your own nervous laughter.

They had seen your wedding photos that were still in an album in your home office.

You don’t know why you kept all of those, anyway. The past was the past. Why did you feel like holding on..?

John was now also filled with amusement when he heard how the little one had known all along. He knew there wasn’t really much way to go around this one, so it was probably best to just own up to it.

“You caught us. Mummy and I used to give kissies. We used to kiss a lot actually…”

You throw a stuffy from the floor at John, cutting him off.

The kids can’t help but laugh at John’s reaction as he pretends to clutch his chest out of pain when the plush, pink teddy hits him before bouncing off of his chest and onto the floor.

“Do you still like-like mummy?” The oldest asks, their curiosity getting the best of them, not being able to move on just yet.

“That’s enough, little one.” You scoop your mini-John up and hold them in your lap as you sit on the playroom floor across from John.

“We wanna know!”

John sighs, seeing the way you’re looking to him for help in the matter. He decides to intervene.

“C’mon, monkeys. It’s time we were all done playing and we start cleaning up now, yeah?” He says as he looks down at them, trying to get them off the topic.

“Mummy, do you like-like daddy?” They shift the question to you now, since they know they would get an answer out of their daddy.

You sigh.

“I love your daddy a lot. Just like I love you two a lot.” You answer simply, hoping that will end that.

More giggles.

“Mummy loves daddy, mummy loves daddy!” They sang in a teasing way.

You and John meet eyes. You shake your head. “Our children.”

He just grins.

“Do you still love mum? Yes or no.” The older asks their father now, this time more demanding.

John takes a deep breath as he finally answers.

“Yes. I still love mummy. Always will.”

The kids burst into more laughter, as if their parents like-liking each other is hilarious

Eventually John sends them off into the kitchen to get snacks.

The two of you stay sitting across from each other on the floor of the playroom.

“So…” You start, feeling the tension in the air. “Are you heading back home today, then?”

John shrugs his shoulders, a tiny smirk on his lips.

“Was thinking I’d stick around. It is my weekend with the kids, after all.”

Your eyes involuntarily roll, but there’s a smile on your lips.

It’d be easier, he said.

Won’t have to bundle the kids up.

Won’t have to pack two overnight bags.

Won’t have to worry about driving them on the icy roads.

He can just stay one more night, he suggested.

“Let me clear the driveway while you think it over.” He stood up, that stupid cocky grin on his face.

You met him in the mudroom about 10 minutes later.

“Go home and get your shit.” You said, arms crossed like it was against your will.

It’s for the kids, of course.

It was his weekend with them, after all.

“They were pesterin’ you, eh?” He chuckles.

“Didn’t take much convincing.” You blush.

With a light swat to your backside, John gets into his truck to retrieve his belongings.

* lemme know if u want me to continue 🥺 my asks are open if y’all want to suggest smth 🫣

50 notes · View notes

oddverse · 3 days

Note

I adore your Pesci survives au. It makes perfect sense and it fucking rocks. Pesci keeping the necklace and holding it like that…ough…

However, I raise you, prosciutto survives au. Prosciutto barely makes it out of that train alive. He almost loses to the light several times, but he holds off long enough for Melone to get there and get him to a hospital.

He’s out cold for several days, and they had to amputate a leg because it got infected so badly, but sure enough, Prosciutto wakes up in a cold sweat. when Prosciutto awakes, the first word he says.

“Pesci…Pesci…Where…Where’s Pesci?”

Eventually coming to his senses, he realizes he’s in a hospital, and Risotto is waiting for him. No one else.

“Risotto! What’s going on? Where’s everyone, where’s Pesci?”

Risotto gets up and takes a knee. Then he looks directly into his eyes and said, with the most withheld, teary eyed expression he’s ever seen him make,

“Pesci died. Taken out by Bucciarati. The rest of the gang is gone too. Just you and me.”

Prosciutto hardly registers it, but it sinks in eventually. He remembers watching Bucciarati dismember him. Powerless, and too beaten up to stop it. Forever stuck in the shadow of that train, nothing but a poor example.

It’s cold outside today, isn’t it? For spring, at least.

melone too?,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, I’ve said something super similar in the last about a surviving Prosciutto/Pesci completely swapping personalities to cope.

Pesci, immediate shut down but he’ll live. He’d have his screams and wails, he’d beg and damn everything to hell, then he’d cry and cry and cry, because he failed, for real this time. But he’ll get up eventually, he’ll hate himself forever but he will get up, and then it’ll be time to be a man. He’d be obligated to be better, to make it, to let it not be in vain. (I could even see him getting into suits…)

Prosciutto on the other hand would be sore to the touch, just imagine a Narancia level freak out but it’s our ever collected Prosci. I don’t think his face would ever be dry again. He didn’t even win, Pesci was his trump card and he didn’t even get to win. He played too rough and now he looks like a jigsaw puzzle with a couple pieces missing, and for what? And for what

He’d probably die from heartbreak and I am not even kidding,

He’s just a poor old lady

#YOU PLAY TOO ROUGH 😭😭😭#AND EVEN BETTERRRRR RISOPRO EXES IN THIS SCENARIO DIAL IT TO 11 BREAK EVERYBODIES HEART IDCCCCCC #waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah do not separate themmmmmm #off work ramblings but I love your grasp on the characters!!! ur descriptions are so vivid #pesci #prosciutto #propesci #melone #just cause I mentioned him #risotto nero #should I mention death?#mention of death #?#treating this ao3 MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

27 notes · View notes

sergeantgoggles · 22 hours

Note

I don't suppose you'd be up for doing a Fox/Thorn from the heart list 💜 surprise kiss/impulsive kiss pls??? 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

This ended up being more of an "accidental kiss" but it's still definitely a surprise, lmao!

I don't usually play with the Corrie boys, so my sincerest apologies if I get them all wrong. I actually had to ask my Discord server what their personalities were because it's just not a group I find myself writing or reading anything about.

BUT! I wanted to give it a shot, and I hope my take on their relationship does them justice in your eyes!

“For the last time—”

“I know, I know,” Thorn threw his hands up in surrender, but the grin that curled on his lips couldn’t be wiped away. He leaned into Fox’s space, noses nearly brushing as he spoke, “I’ll make sure things are taken care of and that Senator Amidala gets the message from the Chancellor.”

Fox scoffed and ignored the rising flush on his cheeks as he turned back to the window looking out over the bustling city. This was ridiculous. He and his men should have been out there in the fight, getting dirty, knocking out clankers as they marched on. Instead, they were stuck on this sleepless planet as personal bodyguards and errand boys to Chancellor Palpatine. Honestly, he was more tired now than even after he’d had the floor wiped from under him in the hardest training simulation on Kamino, and this cheeky Commander wasn’t helping anything.

…Okay, he was. He trusted Thorn. There were few like him. He had the charisma of a man that had seen the galaxy despite hardly leaving Coruscant and the strength of a hundred shinies in just one fist alone. …Maybe Fox was exaggerating. Still, the point remained that he didn’t hate Thorn.

He just wished he would stop looking at him like that.

“Why are you still here?” He asked, feeling Thorn’s gaze raking over him.

Suddenly there was breath on the back of his neck, and Fox barely fought the shiver that raced up his spine. “Thorn—”

“You didn’t dismiss me, Commander.” Thorn’s voice was lower, deeper than it had been just a moment ago, wasn’t it?

It didn’t matter because Fox caught his gaze in the glass’s reflection, and he absolutely could not hide the way he’d bit his lip to keep himself from making a fool of himself. All he needed to do was give him permission to leave, right? Then he would be out of his hair for the time being and he could make himself another cup of caffe, or, if he was lucky, he could sneak in a five minute nap. That should suffice, shouldn’t it?

Fox stood a little straighter, then, “you’re dismissed.”

Thorn didn’t move.

“Did you hear me?” Fox questioned, glancing over his shoulder. He couldn’t actually see Thorn, but he could still feel him at his back, and the hairs on his neck stood as Thorn chuckled.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Fox grit his teeth. This man was unbelievable. Just who exactly did he think he was?

As Fox turned to face him and lean into his space as Thorn had done to him earlier, two things were made immediately obvious. For one, Thorn had been closer than he’d anticipated, and second, their lips were slotted together. It was a little awkward since Fox had had his mouth open to yell at him, but Thorn easily rolled with it, slid his tongue along his, had him whimpering before he could stop himself.

But that was where Fox stopped himself.

He jolted backward, putting himself against the window. In hindsight, it was only more of an invitation for Thorn to crowd him, and he did, stealing another kiss from him before he was able to come to his senses entirely.

“Thorn, s-stop,” Fox breathed, or maybe he didn’t. He was dizzy with heat, confusion written all over his face. Didn’t he just want this man gone? And now…

Thorn nodded, however, giving Fox the space he’d asked for without question. If Fox had his wits about him, he’d have seen the equally confused expression on Thorn’s face, and the flash of worry that lingered in his honey eyes.

“Fox—”

“You’re dismissed,” Fox repeated what he hadn’t been able to the first time and watched as Thorn hastily gathered himself, tossed his bucket back over his head, and left him alone.

Fox touched his lips, already missing the feeling of Thorn there.

#cloneshipping #clone shipping #clone/clone #the clone wars #commander fox #commander thorn #coruscant guard #foxthorn #heart prompts clone edition

21 notes · View notes

asterifish · 24 hours

Note

Helowwww can you do a song Mingi x male reader of them dating for years, Mingi and male reader are childhood friends before mingi met Yunho, Mingi and reader started dating when they are 16, lemme add up that reader is rich rich rich being an heir of a Korean family (you choose the last name) and the CEO of their family company. Reader proposed to Mingi before they went to Coachella.

After week 2 of Coachella during their after party, Mingi finally comes out of the closet, before stating that he is engaged to someone, which the members ask on who he is etc. Yunho and majority of the staff know so they are laughing, before Mingi shows the picture of reader and the members are shookt!!!!

You can add more LMFAOOOO

HEY!!!!! omw I cant wait to write this AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! I hope you don't mind if I do a little bit of backstory, so this'll be pretty long compared to my others 🙏

I hope u don't mind that I made it a lil angsty in thee beginning its for the plot 🦶🦶

I really like long plots like this!! Tysm for requesting it!

𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪

You're all I've ever wanted. (2k words)

Flashback to when Mingi and M/n were 5.

“Gigi, do you think we’ll get married when we’re older?” m/n asked, tilting his head up at his friend. It was a hot summer day, and they were currently at the beach. M/n had needed a break from his parents, so he’d met Mingi by their rock. Something you probably didn't know is that M/n is an heir to the Han family. They own many buildings in South Korea, and expected him to be the next CEO of their main company, Han Electro.

Mingi couldn’t help but smile at the question before squatting next to the younger. “How about we make a promise? If neither of us are married at the age of 23, we’ll get married, okay?” M/n smiled and nodded, reaching up to hug his friend. Just as they let go, a man came up to them and grabbed m/n’s arm. “You stupid brat, what have I told you about running off? How can we expect you to run a company successfully if you keep doing this?” This stupid man was m/n’s father. M/n sighed and got up, dusting off his legs before smiling and waving to his friend, “Bye gigi! I’ll see you soon!” Mingi waved back and then after a few minutes he went home.

Fast forward 10 years, and now they were both 15. In a few days it was Mingi’s birthday, and he was looking forward to it. At this time, he and M/n barely hung out, but M/n always sent Mingi small gifts and clothes and stuff. Expensive stuff. For his 15th birthday, m/n have sent him a Louis Vuitton bracelet and a jacket to go with it. A few years earlier when m/n was on a business trip with his parents, Mingi had met Yunho, and the rest of ATEEZ. They had all teased Mingi when he told them that m/n was the one that had bought them for him.

A few days later, On Mingi’s 16th, M/n had showed up at his front door with a bouquet of flowers, and a sign that said ‘Will you go out with me?’ Mingi was overjoyed and obviously said yes. AFter that, they were closer than ever. M/n had told his father that he needed a break for a bit, so he was allowed one week of freedom. The two went on movie dates, dinner dates, and even spent nights with each other. They cuddled and watched movies before falling asleep.

When m/n had gone on a business trip again two weeks before ATEEZ was to leave for Coachella, he’d come back with a Kawasaki H2R (sports motorcycle). “Baby… are you trying to win me over?” Mingi had asked, a smile on his face. M/n had a guilty smile on his face as he nodded. After they put the bike in the garage, they sat on the couch together, m/nin Mingi’s arms. “You don’t have to win me over, you’re already mine.” Mingi whispered, and kissed his boyfriend’s cheek. Fast forward to present day.

ATEEZ was about to fly out of Korea, getting ready for Coachella. M/n knows this (Mingi tells him everything), and was racing towards the airport, hoping to catch them outside. He was lucky enough to spot paparazzi, and then ATEEZ’s van, skidding to a stop behind it. Mingi was clearly happy to see m/n, but tried to ignore him since he was already in the airport and surrounded by paparazzi. M/n slipped a little box into his pocket, and then stepped inside the airport. (I should tell you now that M/n had drawn some of the paparazzi away, since he was also a famous CEO(the youngest ever)) With the paparazzi pushed away from ATEEZ and Mingi whispering something to staff, the two were able to slip away into a secluded area. “M/n! Why are you here? Are you going on another business trip? Where are you ba..” Mingi was interrupted by the younger kissing him. “I don’t have a lot of time, but I just… I can’t keep seeing you and not tell you…” M/n sounded nervous, and flinched when Mingi wrapped his arms around the smaller.

“It’s okay m/nie! You can tell me anything!” Mingi smiled, but even he sounded nervous, not knowing what m/n wanted to talk about. When m/n finally stepped away from his boyfriend, he slipped the small box out of his pocket. “Min…. I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while… but… will you… marry me?”

Mingi’s hands flew to cover his mouth, stepping back from the smaller. M/n clearly wasn’t expecting this reaction, because he seemed scared, but all fear left him as Mingi kissed M/n, and didn’t let go until he was gasping for air, a smile on his face. “Of course I will, M/n, I would love to marry you!” Mingi then rambled about the rest of ATEEZ finally getting to meet the love of his life, but M/n softly stopped him. “Ming… you know I can’t come with you… but.. Promise you’ll call okay? I’ll be watching you on TV, I promise.”

Mingi nodded and pulled M/n into another hug. “And I promise I’ll call you. When we get back can I introduce you to the others?” M/n nodded, and kissed Mingi one last time before the staff found them. M/n was silent on his car ride home, smiling really wide. After their first week at Coachella, Mingi and M/n were on a call. Mingi had told M/n everything that he’d done that week, and M/n was gushing over how Mingi had done a great job during performances.

It was now the second week, and today was their last day performing. Mingi had practically run offstage after saying goodbye to fans, wanting to tell M/n all about it. He was reaching for his phone, but got pulled away by San, who wrapped him into a bear hug. “Mingi you did great!” He shouted, still being controlled by adrenaline.

Mingi just let himself be swung around by San before Seonghwa demanded that he put Mingi down because he seemed like he was about to throw up. “I feel like this performance was much better than our other ones, good job guys!” Hongjoong said. They were now all in their van, heading towards where their afterparty was gonna be. One of the staff members had asked to see Mingi, and they were now talking about the airport situation.

“You know I'm bad at keeping secrets, M/n I couldn’t help it! They were teasing me and I just…” Mingi’s voice trailed off as he heard a chuckle from the other side of the phone. “Baby are you laughing at me?” Mingi’s voice cracked a bit as he asked this, his throat still hurting from when they performed Geurilla.

“No, no of course not baby..!” M/n answered, trying to keep his giggles to himself. Mingi had called M/n right after he’d reached his hotel room, and had told M/n everything. He’d told M/n that after the staff had talked to him, the members started teasing him. They’d bugged him about why the staff had talked to him, and he’d given in. “I’d told them… I was like ‘Okay guys… so there has been this secret I’ve kept from you guys..’ and they fell silent! Isn’t that crazy? Anyway, I was like ‘It’s regarding my private life, and I need you guys to be chill about this..’” Mingi sighed after saying this, putting his head in his hands.

“I guess they weren’t quiet about it, huh?” M/n’s voice sounded really far away through the phone, and Mingi guessed that he was in the kitchen making ramen. “Well of course not! They bugged me even more! San almost choked me because he’d jumped on me, thinking he could get the answer out of me first!” Mingi ranted, now pacing the hotel room.

M/n’s laughter bounced off the walls as Mingi put him on speakerphone. “And then what?” M/n asked, his voice louder as he stood near his phone again, the clink of glass on the counter loud. “Well…. I was like ‘Alright.. So I’ve been seeing this guy… and he makes me really happy.. And recently, before we left for Cali he.. proposed to me.’” M/n had scoffed at this, giggling as his boyfriend sighed again. “I guess you can tell how this went.. They laughed at me and I sat there like ‘What??’ but I looked at the staff, and they seemed to catch on about the Airport situation, but didn’t seem to believe me. Wooyoung asked me for a picture of you and I..” Mingi’s voice trailed off as a door opened behind him.

“Mingi? Who are you talking to?” The voice belonged to the member he was rooming with, Jongho. Mingi held his phone up to the other, showing him the screen. “Oh! Is that.. your fiancé?” The boy seemed to still not believe it, but M/n smiled to himself before saying hello, assuming he was on speakerphone. “Hey! I’m Han M/n, nice to meet you! Sorry I'm not there in person to shake your hand.” He laughed. He listened carefully as he heard sounds of Mingi pushing the other out of the room, and laughing as Jongho left. “Okay.. where was I.. Oh yeah! So I pulled out my phone and showed them a picture of you! You know the one where you were cuddling with our cat?” M/n made a sound of acknowledgement before Mingi continued, revelling over the fact that “the members had gone nuts, asking if you were ‘The famous M/n, CEO of Han Electro.’”

M/n laughed at this, now sounding far away, as he walked to the sink to wash his bowl. “Okay Min-min, I know it's late there, and you have to be tired. I’m gonna hang up, okay? You get some rest and call me in the morning.” M/n said, walking back to his phone. “Okayyy.. Goodnight M/nie! Before you hang up… promise you’ll let me introduce you to the members?” Mingi yawned at the end of his sentence, sheets ruffling as he slipped into bed and turned on his side. “

Of course baby! I can’t wait! Now get some sleep, I love you!” You could hear M/n’s smile through the phone, and Mingi loved that. The next day, ATEEZ were heading home. They’d had a long day of traveling, but weren’t tired. They’d heard from Jongho that they were going to meet M/n when they got back to Korea, and had been restless ever since. Mingi on the other hand, slept the whole flight back, having been restless the night before.

When the plane landed, Mingi had jolted awake, almost hitting his head on the low ceiling above him. It took the members a while to get off the plane, but it was worth it because of who was waiting for them. Standing near the terminal where they landed, was m/n. He was dressed in all black, a mask and glasses covering his face. San noticed him first, practically bounding over to the younger. Mingi followed suit, and M/n took his mask off to give his boyfriend a kiss.

They hugged and rocked back and forth while the members surrounded them, already asking lots of questions. “Okay okay guys calm down please, we’re attracting attention.” Hongjoong sighed and shook his head. Mingi was still Hugging m/n, now resting his head on the smallers shoulder with no intent of letting go. M/n smiled at the other members, running his hand through Mingi’s hair. “Hello! It’s nice to finally meet you all, Mingi’s told me a lot about you guys.” M/n detatched himself from Mingi so he could bow and shake hands, but Mingi grumbled and pulled m/n into a back hug instead, seeming to fall asleep a few seconds later.

They stood in the terminal and talked while the staff were taking their bags to the van for transport. The staff was okay with Mingi leaving with m/n, so after saying goodbyes, they parted ways, ATEEZ to KQ and Mingi and M/n going home.

◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕◕

Hey!! Its the way I could have gone on and on about that Kawasaki but didn't (im so proud of myself for that), I really love motorcycles guys.

Anyway!! I hope this is what you wanted!! I might have added a bit too much backstory, and cut out the fact that Yunho and staff knew about m/n, but honestly i think it makes it a bit better. I hope the ending was okay! I was debating on adding the wedding so I just left it as it is now, with m/n meetinf ATEEZ finally.

Spotify must have known I was working on this because ATEEZ was playing nonstop and I rarely hear ATEEZ even though theyre in all my playlists💪💪

Works belong to @asterifish | reblogs help me a lot!

#asteri's🪐fics #kpop male x male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader fluff #ateez x male reader #mingi x male reader #song mingi #somg mingi x male reader #male x male reader #sub male reader #childhood friends #angst with a happy ending #slight angst

22 notes · View notes

clubdionysus · 1 day

Text

[BAD DECISION #15] Paper Planes

warnings: byeol letting us know exactly what annoys her!! lil fight :( but jaykay is teeew cahyute :( we learn the red witch's name!!! cw: hayun!!!!! paper planes! jaykay is a little nervous, handjob, fingering, cockwarming, protected sex, oc on top, (f)solo masturbation...during cockwarming (??), mirror mentions, jaykay is just the loveliest

a/n: the comment section on this one always made me die lol

soundtrack: wrong - zayn ft. kehlani

wc: 11.1k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

When Jeongguk's phone vibrates on his nightstand, he pretends he can't hear it. It's the second time it's gone off in the last ten minutes, and even though he knows it's just you, there's something stopping him.

Okay, so that 'something' might be the little white lie he's told you about inviting a girl over - but he thinks if he replies to you, it will be obvious that he's alone.

It's been three days since you watched him type out a message to a girl, press send, and lock his phone almost immediately. He had thrown it down on his bed, groaned, and held his hand over his face as if it was some great strenuous task.

It was only made worse by the sweet, musky scent still on his hands. You .

And you seriously expected him to be able to invite another girl round? How the hell would he explain all the birds on his ceiling? Would he tell them the truth? Explain that they shouldn't get too comfortable with him, because his bed is reserved for his friend who he can't seem to help but desperately want to fuck?

The thought process left him reeling.

Was still thinking about it even after you'd left that evening, none the wiser of his inner turmoil.

You also weren't wise to the fact that he'd flicked his phone over to airplane mode before sending that message. The girl - the one from the club who had kissed him with little care for anything more than the fact she thought he was gorgeous - never received the message.

And so Jeongguk had done something he knows you'd be displeased with: he lied.

Told you that he had invited her over. That she had said yes.

So he hasn't replied to any of your messages all morning, to make it seem believable.

Jeongguk's not quite sure why you're calling, now. Interrupting a date is the last thing you'd want to do, so it worries him - concerns him that maybe something is wrong - but he also fears you thinking badly of him. Knows that if you find out he is a big fat liar, you will be mad.

He'll call back soon. He will . He'll ruffle his hair, rub at his cheeks to make them a little blushed, and then he'll facetime you, as if he's just said goodbye. He'll ask not to talk about it, and let you draw your own conclusions.

He's torn from his thoughts - and the flashing of your call on his phone screen - by a knock at his apartment door. Jimin is at work, which means he has to answer it.

Tossing his phone onto his bed, Jeongguk heads towards the front door. At least this gives him an excuse to stretch his legs. He's been staring at the ceiling for a while, now. Been hoping another bird would fall so he could use it as a distraction.

His footsteps are slow. Lethargic. His bare feet pad along the floor like a little lost puppy, as his hand comes to cover the yawn escaping from his mouth. Doing nothing all morning always makes him feel even more tired than he actually is.

He's barely finished yawning by the time he reaches for the door handle, pulling it open and putting on a smile.

And then, he panics.

"Shit."

Jeongguk almost slams the door shut again as soon as he opens it. In fact, he tries to do exactly that - but you put your palm against it just in time.

"You are unbelievable , Jeon Jeongguk."

"Byeol-"

"No, no, no," you almost laugh, waltzing straight on into his apartment as if it's your own. The television is off, and Jeongguk hasn't cleaned up the kitchen since he made breakfast, so he quite clearly has had no company - but you know this already. "You don't get to 'Byeol' me. Not now."

He follows you in, but stands by the kitchen counter as you take centre stage by the sofa. Your arms are folded over your chest, tightly, just to let him know how unimpressed you really are.

Jeongguk can't help but smile. He thinks you sort of look like a pissed-off bunny rabbit. Half expects your foot to start thumping out of frustration. You're dressed down - a pair of tights and a shirt large enough to be a dress, with a flannel over the top of it. You've still got your black converse on, which is testament to how little you care about leaving a good impression. They really should be by the door. But you're pissed - and rightly so.

"C'mon, Byeol-"

"No!"

"But-"

"You promised me, Gguk," you eventually sigh, shaking your head, eyes all doe-like and pretty as they reflect the light of his floor lamp. The glitter on your lashline is ridiculous as ever, and he's glad for it. Has missed it. Missed you.

"I know," he concedes. "How did you-"

"I'm a girl," you interrupt. "We know everything ."

Or at least, you know the Instagram handle of the girl he was supposed to be seeing, and had also seen her post a story by the coast that morning - miles and miles from Jeongguk's apartment.

Jeongguk casts his eyes to the floor. You've a bag hooked over your shoulder, so he knows you're heading to work, but had called in by his place first. He knows you don't have much time to waste, and he feels horrible about it all.

"So?" You ask impatiently. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

When he glances back up towards you, nibbling down on his bottom lip, brows a little higher than usual, you know he must be squirming beneath his skin. Good , you think. It's the least he deserves.

"Y'know," you scoff when he can't bring himself to say anything that would justify lying to you. "Maybe I was just naive, but I thought you got it . Didn't think I'd ever��have to worry about you lying to me-"

"Byeol."

"Turns out you're just like every other guy I know."

The charming curve of his placid smile drops. His lips rest ajar and his eyes are wide - but his brows are furrowed. You're not sure if it's confusion or hurt lacing his features, but you decide that both are desirable.

It's unfair to compare Jeongguk to other men in your life. You both know this. Unfortunately, you also both know there's only one comparison that will really hurt him.

But you're pissed.

And so you make the comparison.

"After Jin, I always told myself I wouldn't let anyone lie to me - but apparently lying to me is easy."

Oh, the silence. It burns . Scalds you both.

You readjust the bag on your shoulder and shrug. Shake your head. Purse your lips. Are already running late for work, so pick your heels up and storm past him with one final scoff to really wound him.

"I thought we trusted one another. I thought we were friends . More fool me."

You don't take the elevator, instead heading for the stairs. There's a fear that he'll chase after you, and you don't want to be caught out as you wait for the lift to reach his floor.

It's not until you're out of his apartment block that Jeongguk actually moves. Doesn't even really think, either. The minutes pass slowly. It's suffocating.

The impact of your words sizzle and settle into his skin like the mark of a brandishing iron. LIAR , the imprint would read.

He crouches. Takes a deep breath. Hadn't considered there being any impact to his white lie. Thought it would be something he'd admit in a few weeks time, and maybe you'd find it funny.

You're still learning about one another, though. There are stones left to unturn - some that are too heavy for him to do by himself. He'll need your help.

But right now?

You need a drink. Vodka, preferably.

Unfortunately, drinking on the job isn't an option, so Hoseok starts on an iced americano the second he sees you storm into the room. He says nothing. Has seen you with a face of thunder before. Doesn't wanna feel the wrath of your lightning. Is unaware of the fact Jeongguk's sitting in his apartment slightly frazzled already.

Instead, he just places the drink beside you as you check through the day's bookings. It's relatively quiet, thankfully. Will give you more time to focus on planning Taehyung's upcoming exhibition. You need to send feelers out, and drum up a little bit of hype, but feigning excitement at the moment is the last thing you want to do.

"Wanna talk about it?" Hoseok eventually asks after half an hour of silence from you.

Glancing over to him, you offer a soft smile. He's the one guy who's never let you down. "It's no biggie."

And that's thing - it really isn't. In the grand scheme of things, Jeongguk's little lie really doesn't mean all that much.

The thing that bothers you is that he would have rather told a lie, than just be honest with you.

It's a slippery slope, you think. If he sees he can get away with a small lie, what's to say the next time it won't be an even bigger one? And then an even greater one? And then he'll just be lying left right and centre and-

"Oh," Hoseok interrupts your thoughts. Nods towards the entryway, where a man you'd rather not shower in customer service smiles stands. "I'm gonna go count some stock."

Hoseok never counts stock. He's just getting out of your hair. Knows that you've been spending a lot of time with Jeongguk as of late, so presumes that maybe he's got something to do with your foul mood.

"We're all booked up," you tell Jeongguk, not even looking in his direction. You busy yourself cleaning out some brushes, instead.

Still in the clothes he was wearing in his apartment - a pair of grey sweats and a black t-shirt - he's annoyingly handsome. Is also wearing his black converse. Just like you. It pisses you off.

He looks into the room and hums. There's a single couple by the side wall. No one else.

"Thought you were annoyed at me for lying?" He tries not to smirk. He knows you're being ridiculous, now. "You can't be lying, too. Would make you a hypocrite."

He's got you there.

"Fine," you snap back a little harsher than you intend. "This area is for paying customers only, I'm afraid, sir. Please buy a canvas, or fuck off."

"Is that how you usually speak to punters?" He grins, digging into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. This just annoys you even more. You wanted him to leave. He tosses his card down on the counter. Doesn't care what he pays for. Will pay for anything just as long it gives him a chance to make things right.

"To the ones who deserve it," you smile, but he knows how you actually smile at him. Knows this one is entirely false. Reaching over for his card, you begin tapping through some options on the till system. "So that's a deluxe painting experience for two?"

"For two?" He questions.

"All of our solo slots are unavailable," you shrug. It's such a blatant lie that it makes Jeongguk laugh.

"All of your basic packages, too?"

"Mhmm."

"Fine," he just says. "May as well go all out. Charge me for a VIP package."

You pause. Glance up towards him, only to realise he's deadly serious. The VIP package rarely sells, because it's honestly not worth it. Customers just get fresh supplies that they're able to take home - and a personal buzzer that they can use to get the staff's attention.

Turning your concentration back to the screen, you nod, and process his payment. "Very well. Please take a seat of your choice. My colleague will bring your supplies to you."

Jeongguk knows Hoseok. There's no need for you to be so fucking formal. He thinks you're being unreasonable.

"Not you?"

"No. Not me."

You really mean it. Will avoid Jeongguk like the plague if you can help it.

Hoseok has other ideas. He refuses and practically pushes you out from behind the desk with Jeongguk's apron and paints in hand. You whisper curses in his direction, but straighten yourself up to approach Jeongguk with a demure demeanour. Cold as ice, he's not used to seeing you like this. Finds it kind of funny.

Sat by the window you adore so much, Jeongguk has his back to you, and is quiet as a mouse. He's decided that he's not going to engage in conversation with you, because he knows you. Knows that it will drive you mad. Knows that you'll start a conversation just to bicker with him.

But you're also silent as you approach; silent as you don't bother arranging his paints for him like you know you should, silent when you let the apron drop to the floor instead of handing it to him.

You place the buzzer beside him, and walk away knowing that Hoseok will have to accept any of Jeongguk's calls, for you'll just refuse.

Thing is, you didn't charge Jeongguk for a VIP package.

You charged him for solo basic package.

And so when the buzzer alert vibrates at the front desk, Hoseok refuses to get it. Says he's under no obligation to fulfil Jeongguk's requests. You gave him the buzzer. It's your job.

"You wouldn't have given him a buzzer if you didn't want an excuse to talk to him," Hoseok says, and regretfully, you know he's right. So you just give him a small glare, and head in Jeongguk's direction.

It's barely been five minutes since he sat down. He can't need help already.

You say nothing as you stand beside him. Wait for him to turn to you. Refuse to look at his canvas.

"Do you guys have wifi here?"

There's a poster on the wall quite literally beside him with the code on it. You nod in its direction, and catch glimpse of his canvas - and the pale blue letting in the middle of it:

i'm sorry

"That everything?" You ask a little impatiently.

"Yeah," he smiles, and his lip ring flips ever so slightly. You hate how much you love it when that happens. Jeongguk thinks you want to smile back - but you storm off before he has a chance to confirm this.

And so five minutes later, the buzzer vibrates again. You groan, and Hoseok just smirks. Tells you that you reap what you sow.

You tell him you'll sew his mouth shut if he's not careful.

When you reach Jeongguk again, he has another stupid question - "which way up should the canvas be?" - and you know it's just a ploy to have you looking at what he's written on there again. The entire background is baby blue now, but in peachy pale orange, it reads:

forgive me :(

You simply reach over, and turn the canvas so that the painted side is facing the easel. "Much better."

He knows he shouldn't push his luck, so he decides against calling you over again - but he does take his precious time painting, then starting over - again and again - just to buy more time in his little corner of the cafe. The sun sets. Hoseok heads home. So do the last customers- and yet Jeongguk remains.

You had spent the rest of your shift trying (and failing) not to glance in his direction. With the amount of art that adorns his arm, you're not surprised to find he's the artistic type, but you hadn't expected him to be a pastels kinda guy.

"Pretty," you muse as you come to stand behind him. Your voice is soft now, in a way that it wasn't earlier. Calmer. More at ease. Not quite warm, but certainly not as frosty as it had been.

"You think?" he tilts his head, and ignores the way your hands rest upon the top of his shoulders.

It's not that you aren't still annoyed with him - you most definitely are - it's just that you've spent the entire day in a horrible mood. It's so much nicer to pretend you're not. It actually makes you feel a lot better.

In front of Jeongguk is a pretty little sunset scene. Purples and oranges, like a meeting of clematis and clementines. It makes a change from the pink and blue gradients that people usually do, and you find yourself a little bit enamoured with the way he sees the world.

"Mhhm," you nod, and squeeze his shoulders gently. "Really pretty. I've only got a couple of jobs left to do. Got much to add?"

He shakes his head. Truthfully, could have been finished three hours ago. Thinks he's done - then says, "hold on."

Dipping his thinnest brush into the small reserve of white paint on his palette, he adds a dainty star in his sky.

"There," he says triumphantly.

"Beautiful," you muse.

If you weren't too busy looking at his art, you'd catch his beaming face in the reflection of the window, and the way he bites down on his lip just before he agrees. There's something comforting about the way he paints; like a blanket over cold toes on a winter's night, the promise of everything being okay in the end. It's hopeful, you think. Calming. Promising.

And yet Jeongguk is still Jeongguk.

"I'll put it up in the living room next to your tits."

Rolling your eyes, you tap the back of his head and walk away.

"At least you won't have to lie to Jimin about this one. He still think my tits are courtesy of Tae?"

"Courtesy of Tae," Jeongguk nods as he gets to his feet and begins to clear away his supplies. "He hasn't been round ours lately to say otherwise, and Jimin hasn't mentioned it to him, so we're all good."

You mumble a noise to affirm Jeongguk's assumptions. You know your tits are ticking time bomb - you just have no idea when it's set to blow. Hope that you'll be safe from the blast when it happens.

Jeongguk disagrees. He really does believe Jimin won't give a fuck. Might be a bit weird, granted, but it's not like Jimin has any claim on you. Sure, he got you 'first', but Jeongguk doesn't think it counts for anything.

"At least that's one less thing for you to lie about. I actually do need to call Tae," you ponder as you restock the paint.

Jeongguk ignores the small jab about lying. Knows that you'll no doubt insist on talking about it later, so revels in the distraction of Taehyung. "You do?"

"Mhhm," you say. "We need to plan the layout for the exhibition. Figure out how we're gonna make the space usable for regular customers, still."

"Well," Jeongguk considers as he runs his palette under the sink tap. "If you need any help moving the furniture about, I'll be happy to help. Anything for Tae."

"For Tae?" You raise a brow.

"Uh-huh. Not for you."

Oh, what a beautiful liar Jeon Jeongguk is: eyes bright, smile wide, cheeks so appled you think he could make cider. There's no malice in his misconstruction of reality, just a tender awareness that you tend to enjoy when he's like this.

You look at him with perplexed eyes, and sigh so deeply he thinks that you can't have been breathing properly all day.

He knows what's coming next. Saves you the effort of asking the question.

"I just... got scared." He looks down at his hands. They rest on the counter above the till, as he picks off flecks of dried paint with his nails. You don't tell him to stop, even though you've already wiped the surface down. Figure he's doing it because he's a little stressed. You feel bad.

"I know," you offer a little sympathy. "But isn't that the whole point? We're doing things that scare us, Gguk."

"You've been doing so well," he says and glances up, eyes wide and desperately wanting you to understand. "I'm lagging behind."

You shake your head, and gently squeeze his hand. He stops picking at the paint, so you keep it there.

"I'm doing well with you," you insist. "Put me with a stranger? Anyone else? I'm not sure I'd be able to cope as well as I have been with you."

He hadn't considered it that way. He pushes his lips to the side like a bunny twitching its nose. It's endearing how vulnerable he can seem despite his piercings and tattoos. There's a softness to Jeongguk.

"And, hey- at least you did invite me round."

"That doesn't count," he says, reminding you of your own words.

"But it shows that you're also doing well with me. We both need to work on using the lessons we've learned from one another. Both have a long way to go."

He just shrugs. Pulls his hand away, so he can take his apron off.

"I still shouldn't have lied. I'm sorry."

"And I probably shouldn't have been so harsh on you," you offer back. "Should have heard you out before I decided that you were the spawn of satan himself."

He shakes his head. Doesn't think you were entirely wrong for being so annoyed. He knows he didn't have to lie to you. Instead, he had made an active choice to deceive you in order to make his life a little bit easier.

Thing is, he's never had anyone call him out for bullshit like this before. Knows he'll think twice before he does it again.

"C'mon," he just says, knocking his head towards the door. "It's late. I'll walk you home."

It's shit like this that makes it impossible to stay mad at Jeongguk.

His heart is in the right place, as are his intentions - it's just his execution that sometimes leaves something to be desired. Everyone makes mistakes, though. We live and we learn.

You think that you're learning a lot from one another. Are glad you're able to resolve differences like these easily. Shows he cares about making things right.

And so you invite him inside when you reach your place. Danbi is away visiting her sister, so it's just been you for the last couple of days. You don't mind it - you enjoy your space - but sometimes it's nice to have another voice in the four walls you call home.

Despite the lack of a nosey housemate (who would definitely have a few suggestive glances to throw your way if she saw Jeongguk arrive home with you), you invite him to your bedroom, instead of staying in the living room. Aren't really sure why. Just feels... apt.

It's not his first time entering your space, but he's still a near stranger to your bedroom. It couldn't be more different from his. You're a maximalist through and through, with enough decorative pillows to open up a soft furnishing shop. There are photos of friends, ticket stubs, and old flyers adorning your wall - a paper trail mapping out exactly who you are, all for his viewing pleasure.

He learns you like a few bands that he does, too. Asks about your favourite tracks. Learns dumb shit about you. Finds that he likes you even more with every new admission.

Unlike his, your bed is tucked into the corner of your room, where a slightly sloped ceiling makes it feel all cosy. There's no space birds you think.

"Would be a waste," Jeongguk just shrugs. Is still beating himself for the fact he's seemingly unable to do even the simplest of birds.

"I wish you wouldn't sell yourself short, Gguk," you sigh, looking at him with a little more pity than he'd probably appreciate. It's okay, though. He doesn't look at you. Just nibbles at his bottom lip and keeps his focus on his hands. "I know your last girl hurt -"

"Hayun," he says quietly.

"Hmm?" You question, though you know exactly what the interruption means. It's her name . He's finally speaking her into existence. Introducing his past to his present. Progress, you think - but selfishly, you sort of wish he hadn't. She'd always been ambiguous. Unknown.

With her name comes knowledge; and the ability to seek her out in Jeongguk's Instagram followers just to see what he's picturing instead when he gets a little too cosy with you.

"Hayun," he repeats, not that he needs to. "She's called Hayun."

She sounds like a bitc-

You cut your thoughts off before they can fully form. You don't know her. Only know Jeongguk's side of the story. It would be unfair to judge her. No matter how badly you want to.

"Well," you start slowly, a little unsure of yourself. "She. Her. Hayun . She hurt you." He nods. "But she's one person. There are billions of people out there, and of those billions, only a very small few will hurt you. You can't keep writing yourself off because of one person."

Hypocrite.

That's the thing, though. There are probably dozens of people out there who are just like her, but won't hurt him.

Now you come to think about it, there are probably just as many people like you, too.

In the end, what really makes any of us so special? So unique?

Deep down, you know the answer: other people.

It's strangers on the street deciding how attractive you are in mere seconds, friends you've known for years finding comfort in your presence, lovers who mourn the loss of you even when you're still alive and kicking.

Hayun isn't special. She's just human.

Jeongguk is what made Hayun special. He decides that she's special.

But you make him special, too.

No one sees him quite as you do. No one notices the callouses on his hands, or the tiny section of hair that his hairdresser cropped just a little bit too short compared to the rest of the cut. No one notices the way it's always the right side of his smile that lifts first, or that he always shakes his head a little before he adjusts his hair.

No one else notices the tiny flecks of glitter you sometimes leave on his skin. Not even him.

But you do.

Jeon Jeongguk is special because you choose to make him that way.

Just like you make Seokjin special. You've all the power, and one day you'll wise up to it. For now, you'll just hope that Jeongguk wises up to it, too.

"Then why do you do it?" Jeongguk counters. "Why do you write yourself off because of one person?"

It's a good question.

You find that missing Seokjin comes in waves.

You'll think you're fine - that the shores have settled and the winds have calmed - but then the tide will come in. Waves will thunder towards you and crash seemingly without warning. You'll be drenched in your sorrow, and there'll be nothing you can do but watch the rides roll away again. He'll be gone, but only long enough for your clothes to dry. He'll be back soon enough to wreck you once more.

Jeongguk watches as you contemplate your answer. Notices the way your shoulders sort of cave in on themselves. Wonders if you were like this before Seokjin.

He's seen glimpses of you that he believes came before Seokjin. The times when you smile; when you laugh without fear of being judged. He's seen you vulnerable, and hates the fact that someone who treated you so unkindly has also seen you like that.

"I'm not sure," you admit. "Part of me thinks it wasn't my fault. That he knew exactly what he was doing every time he broke my heart."

"And the other?"

You look at him for a moment. Wonder what's going on inside that pretty little head of his. You don't think he's judging you, but he definitely is mulling your answers over.

"The other..." you sigh. "The other part remembers the good."

"And what was the good?" Jeongguk queries. "I've only heard the bad."

He doesn't doubt there must have been good times - he just doesn't think they could make up for how dreadful you seem to feel now.

It's like that wave of missing Seokjin has stolen his breath, too. He feels the impact. Maybe not in the same way that you do, but he definitely notices it. Notices how it gets to you. It's a domino effect.

You shrug. There's so much you could say, but nothing that feels like it could justify what a terrible state you're in.

"He wasn't all bad. He isn't all bad. He made me laugh-"

"Bare minimum."

"Shut up," you say, tapping Jeongguk's chest with a grin on your face. "He's ambitious, yanno? I liked his drive. Liked that he knew what he wanted and would stop at nothing to get it."

Jeongguk holds his tongue. Drops his gaze from yours. Is scared you'll somehow read his thoughts, and know he's thinking: kind of like when he cheated on you?

But you're thinking it too. Know that his ambition was founded in selfishness.

"Well," Jeongguk sighs. "They've both fucked us up, haven't they?"

"A little. At least we're trying to fix ourselves, now."

"Trying," Jeongguk repeats. "Not sure we're succeeding."

"Maybe not yet, but... I have an idea," you grin. It's for him, not for you.

Jeongguk narrows his eyes. The last bright idea you had ended up with a flock of paper birds above his bed, and you seeing him far more naked than you ever should have done. He doesn't imagine this idea will be much better.

You take his silence as permission to carry on talking.

"So I don't have any origami paper-"

"Oh, fuck no," Jeongguk laughs. Not more birds.

"No, hear me out!" You laugh right back. "You said that you don't mind doing your birds with me - that it's different to doing them with other people, right?"

He nods. Is cautious as he does so. Doesn't entirely see where you're going with this.

"You're always willing to do my birds, right?"

"Right..."

You take a deep breath. Are aware that what you're about to suggest could be met with rejection - but how can Jeongguk be expected to be brave enough to open himself up for rejection if no one around him ever does?

"My birds all tend to... be focused on the same thing, right? But you're always happy to do them with me. You're not scared of like... sex. Whatever, you know what I mean," you struggle to articulate yourself.

Jeongguk takes a moment.

He knows that there's an idea brewing in your head, but chooses to ignore the mental gymnastics involved in figuring it out.

"But," you continue. "What about the things you're cautious of? The things that scare you in the bedroom? There must be some you haven't done before because you were scared of your partner thinking it would be weird?"

"Well, yeah? I'm sure everyone has?"

"Okay, good," you grin, getting to your feet and retrieving some paper from your desk and a pen. "Think of the most unhinged, or slightly obscure things you've always wanted to try. The stuff that you haven't tried before. The things you've feared being rejected."

"Why?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Stupid question."

It's stupid because it doesn't answer his question, but also stupid because he thinks the answer is abundantly clear.

And yet you ask again.

"Do you trust me?"

He wants to say no, just to be difficult, but his lips betray him.

"Course I do."

You ignore the way your cheeks heat up at his admission. After the little meltdown you'd had earlier, it's nice to hear - and reminds you that he could probably do with a little reassurance too.

"Good. I trust you too. To me, it seems like sex is less scary to you than pursuing relationships - so let's do a sex-based fear of yours instead. Ease you into facing the other ones that actually mean something to you."

Jeongguk isn't convinced of your logic - but you just look so damn hopeful. He'd feel like an ass if he didn't try.

"Alright," he says. "How do we do this?"

"Write the things you feared getting rejected down. I won't look. Just write them down," you repeat, before adding, "then fold them into paper planes."

"Paper planes?" he laughs, and so do you.

"Yes. Paper planes. Chop chop," you continue grinning as you close your eyes to encourage him to get to work.

He looks over at you - the smile settling on your lips, the serenity to be found in your company, and thinks fuck it.

What's he got to lose? A little dignity? Perhaps it's naivety, or maybe it's just the influence of your enthusiasm, but he feels as if maybe you're right. Maybe things don't have to terrify him. At least not when he's with you.

He's seen how mortified you get whenever one of your birds fall, and how happy you always are after they're completed. You make the scary seem safe.

And so does as he's told. There are five pieces of paper, so he writes down five things he's never done. Five things he's always wanted to try - mostly out of morbid curiosity, more than anything.

When he says he's done you insist that he shuffles the (expertly folded) paper planes up. The way he bends to your every whim is quite remarkable. Makes you think that Hayun must have been a real piece of shit to take advantage of his feelings. If he's this willing for you, he must have constantly been on his knees for her.

"Okay," you say excitedly when he's done. You point to the mirror across from your bed, signalling to the empty waste bin next to it. "First paper plane to land in there, we do."

"We do?" He chokes on his own words. He sort of thought he'd just be sharing his desire. Not doing .

"We do - within reason. Like, if you want a threesome then that's just not possible, 'cause I'm simply one woman," you joke. Jeongguk smiles in such a way that tells you there's definitely ' threesome ' on one of his planes. "Look, let's just do it. What's the worst that could happen? I say no? Life goes on, Jeongguk. It'll be okay."

He hesitates, but not because he's nervous. It's cause he knows he's got a great shot. Tells you so.

"The first one will go in," he promises - so you choose one for him, and are proven right as he sinks the plane into the bin without an ounce of effort.

"Huh," you hum. "Nice."

You choose not to question the fact it sort of turned you on. Put it down to hunter-gatherer instincts. Some shit like that.

Instead, you hop off your bed to retrieve the plane. While you're up, you roll off your tights. Don't wanna ruin one of your best pairs.

"Shall I do the honours, or would you like to tell me what we're doing?" You ask.

"Put me out of my misery," Jeongguk groans, letting his body collapse into your pillows. Buries his head. Decides he hates this game.

Hates it even more when he hears you whisper, "holy shit."

"What is it?" he grumbles into your pillow.

All rather suddenly, Jeongguk's expert aim isn't the only thing that's turned you on this evening. What he's written? Fuck . One of your favourite things.

"It's torture," you tell him.

"I didn't write that down."

"No... but what you wanna do? Man, knowing you? You'll hate it."

You get back onto your bed and roll him over. There's no resistance. He just lets you move him about. Lets you straddle his hips. Grunts a little as you adjust. Curses when you turn the piece of paper around for him to read:

cockwarming

"Great choice," you hum in approval. "Not what I was expecting but-"

"Wait," he laughs. "You actually want to do it?"

You shrug. "A bird's a bird. A plane's a plane."

"But do you want to?"

"Would I be sat on your lap like this if I didn't?"

He never gets a straight bloody answer from you. It frustrates him. Mentally. Sexually, too.

"This is so fucking weird," he laughs, pulling his arm to cover his face, his saccharine smile the only thing left on show.

You wrap your fingers around his wrist and pull his arm away. He keeps his eyes closed regardless.

"Look, weirder things have happened," you reason. "But if you don't wanna do it-"

"No!" He cuts you off rather abruptly. "I mean, yes. No. Yes. Fuck. Whatever. I wanna do it."

The hand that had covered his face rests now on your hip. When he looks up at you like this, you think his ex must have been mad to fuck him over.

He's so precious; the dewy tip of his nose slightly blushed, lips pouty and a little glossy. It's his hair that really gets you, though, and how it's so silky smooth that it never tangles, not even as it's pointed in all different directions over his forehead.

You reach over to straighten it out, and Jeongguk wonders what's behind the delicate smile on your lips. Wants to know every inch of the brain that you so often get lost in. Wonders what he'll find of himself in there.

It's probably for the best he doesn't know.

Your smile broadens a little, cheeks like cherries, so sweet and precisely what he's craving.

"Okay," you nod. You're sat on his crotch and can feel that he's stiff beneath you, but ask if he's hard enough just to check.

"Don't look," he tells you as he hooks his fingers beneath his sweats. You raise yourself up a little to give him some wiggle room. There's a small dark patch of grey where you've been sitting. He isn't the only one who's a little excited.

He pulls himself out of his underwear. Strokes once, twice. Knows he can be a little harder, but he's nervous. Grips himself tighter. Doesn't look at you.

You don't look at him either.

Instead, you twist your body over to the nightstand, where a small trinket box sits prettily. Jeongguk had paid it no mind when he was looking around your room earlier, as he'd just assumed it was a jewellery box. You flick it open and retrieve something a little more important than pair of earrings - though now you think of it, you also slip your rings off.

Sitting up straight again, you place your bounty on his stomach.

Jeongguk looks down his body, chin to his chest, to see what you've put there.

"Think we'll need it?"

You glance down to check you've put the right thing on his stomach, a little panicked incase you'd mindlessly retrieved your vibrator from the box instead of your bottle of lube - but nope. All good. It's next to a condom. Safety first.

"Yeah?" You let your brows furrow and settle quickly. "We're not working me up, so."

He narrows his eyes. Remembers to sound of your pussy as he had pushed his fingers into you. Knows that it really doesn't take that much to get you dripping.

"We can," he offers. "Like this is a whole process-"

"The plane says cockwarming," you shrug, conscious of not making this about yourself. "So that's what we'll do."

"Byeol."

"Jeongguk."

"Yanno, your need to follow your self-imposed rules is gonna cause us issues," he tells you with such certainty that is kind of funny he looks so stern when his hand is wrapped around his cock.

"No it's not - put the condom on - it's gonna do us a world of good," you smile.

"You won't even let me kiss you."

"'Cause that's too intimate!"

"Byeol, my cock is gonna be inside you."

"Lucky boy."

"Byeol-"

"Just let me sit on your dick," you grin, rolling your eyes at how pedantic he is. "We can psychoanalyse ourselves later, okay?"

"I-" he sighs, closing his eyes so firmly shut that creases etch themselves into his skin. "I'm hard, I'm just not... there yet."

"You're not?" you hum in surprise. He never has much trouble getting hard, from what you've seen before.

He shakes his head. Bites his lip. Apologises. "Just nervous, I think."

The stupid thing is that he knows he needn't be. He's just not used to this. He's used to foreplay that gets him to the point of coming undone before the funs even really started. He takes his time when he fucks. Takes it seriously.

But you're so casual he can't wrap his head around it. Can't understand how you aren't scared, too.

Thing is, you're terrified. A boundary is being crossed that neither one of you can come back from - but there are only consequences if the pair of you make it that way. It doesn't have to mean anything, and so you're pretending like it doesn't.

"Would it help if I..." You ask quietly, not finishing the sentence. 'Helping' is not on the plane. You shouldn't.

He says nothing. Swallows harshly. You're thankful for the fact he hasn't taken his shirt off. The beating of his heart that you can see through the cotton is already too much to cope with.

He nods.

Stills his hand.

Waits for yours to join.

It's already been established before that your hands are far smaller than his - but seeing them wrapped around the base of his cock? Yeah, it almost makes him say 'fuck it' and ask for a handjob instead. Can't remember the last time he'd have chosen one of those over pussy, but he likes your hands. Likes your wrists. Wants to watch what they can do.

Funnily enough, he can barely keep his eyes open when you actually do get to work. Feels too fucking good.

You're salivating . Can't remember the last time you gave a simple handjob either. Always end up sucking instead, and there are never any complaints, so you'd forgotten what a simple pleasure it can be to watch a man writhe from your hand alone.

"You good?" you say quietly as he pulses his hips up into your grip. He's hard . Real fucking stiff. Probably the hardest you've ever seen him.

"Mhmm," he nods, only opening his eyes when your grip loosens. You can't take your eyes off of him. He's far bigger than you imagine him in your mind. A vein runs up the underside of his shaft, from the base right to his head, and something about it gets you a little breathless. Just like he is. "Yeah. Shit. Sorry. Yeah, I'm good. You good?"

You like how he stumbles over his words whenever he's turned on. You've noticed it a few times. Always gets your biting your lip. It's refreshing how open he is about how easily he loses control.

It's funny. When you finally look up at his face, you notice he's got a very similar vein that runs down his neck. It's engorged. Prominent. Blood desperately pumping through his body to keep him hard - not that he needs much persuading.

"All good," you nod. "You ready?"

You're expecting compliance - but he shakes his head.

"We both know you absolutely cannot take me without warming up a little first, Byeol."

You think he underestimates just how fucking wet you are. Beneath your bra, your nipples are so hard it fucking hurts . You can't remember the last time you were this turned on.

So turned on in fact, you've not thought of Seokjin once, despite the fact Jeongguk is where he usually is. It kind of feels like Jeongguk belongs in your mountain of pillows, lit up by the neon light above your bed. It's a little pink heart - a gift from Danbi one Christmas - and it paints him in the most gorgeous hues. There are no stars in his eyes, just tiny pink hearts. Suits him.

"It doesn't matter if 'this' is for me," he says tenderly. "'Cause honestly, I can't get off if the person I'm with isn't getting off, too. Let me at least make things a little easier for you."

"Easier?" you question, but needn't. It's obvious what he's alluding to. He glances down to his cock, which is thick and still in your grasp. Far thicker than his fingers are.

He nods. "Let me finger you again. We've done it before. We can do it again. I promise you the birds won't mind."

You think his forwardness is perhaps the sexiest thing about him in moments like these.

He isn't afraid to ask of what he wants from you - which makes everything all the more confusing. Perhaps he really isn't fearful of rejection from you.

"Or you can do it yourself," he also offers. He doesn't want to be too forceful with his requests, just knows you'll thank him later. For all of his creative endeavours, Jeongguk has an analytical mind. Remembers his first forrays into relations with women, and mistakes that had been made in the past. He knows he needs you wet, and knows that even with lube, the tightness can still be a bitch. "I don't mind. I just don't wanna hurt you."

"Okay," you whisper.

"Okay?"

You nod. "You can do it."

The way he sinks his fingers into you is borderline paradise.

Truthfully, you've only tried getting yourself off once since he was last inside you like this, and gave up halfway through. It just wasn't as good without him.

His thumb presses against your clit, and he's pleased to have you mewling. Had missed that sound. Fucks his fingers into you a little deeper. Stokes against your walls just how you like it. They're hot. Wet. Fucking divine - and he gets to put his cock inside you afterwards? Jeongguk thinks he's won the fucking lottery.

He briefly thinks of Jimin. Decides that if he were ever to win the actual lottery, he'd probably give Jimin a share of the money. Not all of it. He'd keep the biggest prize. It makes sense to him that you've got a pussy like the winning numbers. As long as he's the one declared 'winner', Jeongguk thinks he'll be okay.

You tell him that you're good - that you can take him now - and he wants to protest.

Partially cause he's only two fingers deep and knows he should really be three if he wants to stretch you out enough to easily take cock, but also 'cause he really fucking like the way you sound. You insist though, so he lets you. Will let you do anything you like at this point.

He doesn't bother cleaning his fingers off. In an ideal world, he'd lick them clean - but that's uncharted territory between the pair of you. Doesn't wanna scare you off - as if you aren't rolling a condom down his cock, before lining yourself up with it as he considers it.

He's throbbing already, swollen and hard, desperate to be sheathed inside you. Tells himself that it's okay, because you're not actually gonna be fucking and also because he's wearing a condom. Skin on skin? Raw? That'd be different, he tells himself.

"Ready?" You ask, breath a little shaky. You don't know why you suddenly feel nervous.

He nods. "Ready."

The tip of his cock rests against your entrance.

You had deliberately stopped Jeongguk from working you up fully, because you wanted to really feel him as he enters you.

There's a pleasure to be found in the right kind of pain - and sinking onto cock as big as his? Yeah . That's one of them.

You lower yourself so slowly that Jeongguk is absolutely certain you must be a masochist - or at least he would be, if could form coherent thoughts. He's too busy feeling . You're tight around him. Hot. Slippery yet small. He knows the lube is redundant. Knows you'd have been able to take him without it.

"Holy shit," you curse, still only about halfway down his shaft.

In another, ideal, world, you'd start to bounce a little. Ease things in a little more gently - but that's strictly against the rules of cockwarming. All you can do is curse. Like him, you're feeling, too - stretched out, full. Content.

It takes the best part of a minute to sink to the base of his cock, and when you do, it takes everything in you not to just fuck him.

Instead, you lay yourself flat against him, arms crossed over his pecks, chin resting on your wrists. His own chin is pressed to his chest, angled a little awkwardly, just so he can look at you. You've no idea what's going on behind his treacle eyes.

"Is it okay?" you whisper, though it's more like a whimper. You're fucking pulsing around him. You both know it.

He nods.

"Weird," he admits with a smile, a little breathless. "But good."

He finds sanctuary in these moments with you. Is unsure of how the pair of you ended up here, but doesn't mind that you have. He finds it mad that you view this as not being intimate. Thinks you must be clinically insane.

The truth of the matter is that you've made a fatal error. The reason you hadn't considered cockwarming as being too intimate is because you hadn't considered it all. No one ever asks to do it during drunken hook-ups.

But you're comfortable. You like it. You're no stranger to the act, but it's always been foreplay. With Seokjin, it never lasted more than a minute or so. Was just something to tease one another with.

This is different.

"I really like this," he whispers. You don't open your eyes, but you do smile when you feel his torso twist a little beneath you, his fingers reaching over to fix the strands of hair that have fallen from behind your ear.

Aways attentive, he never misses the chance to preen you. Welcomes you at your worst, but endeavours to get you at your best. It's curious.

"Me, too."

"Hey, Byeol?" He hums quietly.

"Mhmm?"

"I really am sorry about earlier."

"I see you've learned the oldest trick in the book."

"Which is?"

"Apologising while you're balls deep. Always works."

"Are you saying this is what I need to do for all future apologies?"

"You're planning on lying to me again?"

"No," he says sternly but softly. "No, I'm not."

"Well then, I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get to it," you hum against him.

"Do I have to lie?" he asks. "To get this again?"

He's unaware of the way he's biting down on his lip until you glance up towards him. Catches himself, but it's too late. You've already seen it. You don't mean to, but you mirror him. Bite down on yours, too.

"Are we allowed to do birds more than once?" You ask him, as if you haven't been in his shower a handful of times by now. You even know how to work the temperature gauge and everything. Are basically a seasoned regular.

It's also his point of reference. Knows that he prefers his showers when they're with you. He tells you this - and then says, "I figured we could probably do with a shower after this?"

"My water pressure isn't as good as yours," you simper into his chest, avoiding eye contact.

"So come back to mine?"

It's a question asked without much care for consequences. He doesn't think much of it. You shouldn't either - but you just can't help yourself.

"You know, I'm starting to think you don't actually have a fear of rejection," you tease lightly. "This was all just a master plan to get into my pants, wasn't it?"

"I've already told you, Byeol. I'm not scared of you."

His hand skirts up your thigh and settles by your hip, the pads of his fingers sinking tenderly into your flesh. His grip isn't hard, but it's firm. Present. There.

He swallows back a breath. Pushes his head back into your pillows.

The way his neck moves beneath the warm glow of your neon light is sinful. It takes everything in you not to let your nails creep around it; give him a necklace he never asked for but would gladly receive.

This isn't about you, your wants, or your needs. This is all about him. If he asks for your hand around his throat? You might oblige. You might not. Depends on whether or not you're trying to annoy him. For now, your hands remain beneath your chin, resting prettily on his chest.

He exhales a breath. It's deep. You can feel your body move as his lungs deflate. Eyes finding yours once more Jeongguk shakes his head. "This is fucking torture."

You try your best not to laugh. Are well aware of the way your pussy will pulse around him. You don't want to make this any more difficult for him than it already is. "I told you so."

His body is clammy beneath his clothes. He's fighting every urge, every instinct he has. His cock throbs inside you. He wants more . Wants you .

And yet he finds you all rather amusing. Laughs, because he's stupid, and hasn't wised up to what such a movement could do yet. He stops all rather quickly. Eyes wide. Drinking you in to see if you felt it too; the way his muscles had flexed beneath you, the slightly involuntary pulse of his hips, the deep nudge of his cock against your walls.

"Fucking hell," he curses, closing his eyes. The crown of his head pushes down into your satin pillows, hair a mess all over his forehead. His brows pinch together, nostrils flare, jaw tenses. He's sin , but oh so pretty as his dark hair tangles against your posy pink bedding.

The worst part of it all, though?

It's the way he can hear you smile - the light breath that escapes from your peachy lips as you smirk. The subtle giggle. He can't open his eyes, 'cause he can't trust himself when you're looking at him in the way that he knows you undoubtedly are. Isn't sure he'll be able to follow the rules - the ones you implemented that he hates anyways.

Contrarily, you can't take your eyes off of him.

It's as if those big brown eyes have hypnotised you. All he needs to do is click his fingers and you'll be set free - but Jeongguk is a boy . He's stupid . He doesn't realise just how bewitched you are at this moment. Thinks that he's the only one struggling.

It's redundant, mind you - for you wouldn't take your eyes off of him even if you could .

Jeongguk is a sight to behold when he's like this. Kind of reminds you of when he strength trains at the gym - but it's your legs wrapped around his waist instead of a lifting belt. He'll have far less satisfaction taking you off, that's for sure.

You clasp his pointed chin with your fingers and turn his head to the side. His eyes open and land on the full-length mirror across from your bed. You smirk.

"Watch," you tease, subtle in how you're doing it, but he knows exactly what you're up to.

"Can't use my moves on me, B," he husks, but does as you say.

It's not like he can see anything - just that you're on top of him. The shirt you're in has ridden up to your thighs, so your legs are exposed, but that's as much skin as there is on show. He strokes the bare skin regardless. Watches his hands as they caress you. Enjoys the sight.

"Oh, but I can," you simper, turning your head on his chest so that you're both looking in the mirror. It's kind of sweet. Or at least, it would be, if your pussy wasn't currently being stretched out by a cock so thick you know you'll be feeling it for days.

You watch on as his eyes scan the pair of you, but settle on you. He raises his brows. Looks ever so charming as he does so.

"It's not like we can even see anything," he protests, and he knows he shouldn't, because you're you . You'll just try and prove him wrong - and that's dangerous for everyone involved - but mostly him . Incredibly dangerous for him.

He's proven right as you slowly push against his chest, lifting yourself to a seated position. Jeongguk thinks he'll cum immediately if you even so much as giggle. Or maybe he'll die. Both will feel just euphoric.

Instead, your movements are slow as you reach for the hem of the oversized shirt. You lift it - just a little. Just enough. You can't see anything - but the way Jeongguk is straining his neck just to take in the sight of his cock buried in your pussy? Yeah. You know it's worth it.

"See anything now?" you tease, but he notices how breathless you sound. Are glad it's taking a toll on you. The base of his cock is covered in lube, but he can see a subtle change in texture where your pussy is stretched out around him. Knows that it's because your anatomy is desperate to have him fucking you, even if your brain is telling you otherwise.

Except that's the thing.

It's not.

Every morsel of your being wants to fuck Jeon Jeongguk.

It's only made worse when he smirks.

"Nah. Can't see anything," he rasps. "Lift yourself up a bit?"

Never one to do as you're told, you shake your head. Sink back down to his chest - but the movement of your torso encourages your pussy to slide up his cock just a tiny fraction. Jeongguk fucking groans. Grabs hold of your ass and holds you in place. The change in position, no matter how small, has you struggling to catch your breath.

"Gguk," you mewl.

He nods. Understands. Can't fucking breathe either. Assumes from the way your entire respiratory system seems to be failing that the shallowness of his cock means that he's hitting you in all the right places. You're pulsing around him. Wonder if knows that the ridge of his head is cushioned perfectly against your most delicate spot.

"Deeper," you whisper, fearful of what will overcome you if he stays there - and so he pushes further into you. Holds you in place.

"Shit, Byeol," he finally husks, before realising just how close your lips are to his. His nose nudges against yours. He can feel your laboured breaths. You can feel his. His fingertips squeeze the flesh of your ass. You fucking moan. "Fuck. Don't do that. Don't..."

You're so close that he's having to fight every instinct telling him to press his lips to yours. A rule is a rule, and Jeongguk doesn't like breaking them - but he does really fucking like asses, so he squeezes again. Gets you mewling. Gets himself all worked up.

"Byeol," he whispers, chest rising and falling at such a rapid speed he can barely get his words out.

"Mhmm? Still okay?"

He nods. Grips onto your hips. Does nothing with them. Just holds. Keeps you still. "Okay. It's okay. It's... Fuck. Byeol, it's good."

"Good?"

"Mhhm," he grunts. Moves his hips to adjust your position. Gets you all moany, too. Makes your walls throb. Just a little. Just enough. "Shit. Yeah. It's real fucking good. Jesus Christ. Can you-"

He's cut off by your walls throbbing again. You know it's what he was gonna ask. If you could make it happen. You think you might be able to bring him to orgasm with that alone. You do it again.

"God, Byeol," he curses. Looks at you. Wishes you were naked. Wants your tits in his face. His hips pulse again. It's subtle, but - fucking hell - it's deep.

"You can't fuck me," you whisper, reminding him of the rules, as if you aren't dying to fuck him too.

"Says who?" he whines. "I think fucking is a really good idea."

There are two things certain about horny Jeongguk: he will trip over words, and he will convince himself that bad decisions are good ideas.

"Mhmm, yeah, may as well just ride you now," you tease, knowing full-well you won't. He understands the tone of your voice, but decides to push his luck for the fun of the flirt.

"You wanna ride me, huh? Bet your tits would look incredible."

"Flattery gets you nowhere," you tell him with absolute certainty.

Considering this all came about because he lied, you should really know better than to tell fibs - especially when he's inside of you.

Flattery is actually getting him everywhere . You're fucking leaking. Getting the base of his cock all messy. Your body is screaming at him: fuck me.

One of his hands grips your hip to keep himself snug, as he uses the other to sit up straighter. There's a small shift in the position of his cock, but it only serves to let more of your juices seep from your cunt. He can feel how damp the top of his thighs are, now. Knows it's not just the lube. Knows it you.

Your faces are level as one of his arms wraps around your back. Your instincts tell you to grind - and that's not really fucking, is it? Just a languid movement or two surely isn't sex?

His cock is inside you. There's no debate to be had. You'll both defend yourself till the cows come home - but to any normal person, this is definitely fucking.

Jeongguk's nose nudges against yours. His voice is breathless as he husks, "get yourself off."

He'd do it himself, but he knows you. Know what you're like. Knows that it's an issue you're yet to work through.

"Sure?" you whine, in desperate need of release. This, you think, is the closest to torture you'll ever get.

"Please," he nods. Remembers how it felt to have you climax around his fingers. Wants it again now. He adjusts his hips. Desperately tries to feign innocence.

"I know what you're doing," you grin against his neck, your forehead resting on his shoulder. "Behave yourself."

"I am," he pouts.

"Stay still," you say regardless. "You won't feel it otherwise."

You let your hand drop between the pair of you, and start to rub dainty circles against your clit. It's easy to find - swollen and engorged - painfully neglected for far too long. Your head tips back, and Jeongguk's spare hand rest against the base of your neck.

"That's it, pretty. Get yourself off. Fuck."

And there's that flattery again. You're fucking ruined . You press harder against yourself. Rub faster. Spank your clit once, twice - and smirk when Jeongguk moans from the sound alone.

"Shit, yeah," he encourages. "Gonna make yourself cum so hard, aren't you? Gonna cum all over my cock? That's it. Oh shit, yeah. That's it."

His hip pulse - just a little bit - but you can't blame him. Your walls get tighter. Jeongguk grunts. You fucking moan. His grip on your throat? Yeah. That gets tighter too.

"Eyes on me," he demands - and you fucking comply. Of course you do.

"Gguk," you mewl, but cut yourself short. The feeling is growing too strong. You can't hold it off any longer.

He nods. "Tell me."

Your free hand grips the back of his neck. The orgasm you're building has your body tensing. Lifting. Moving up his cock. It's almost as if your body knows to get the ridge of his head pressing against your g-spot. You can barely get a word out. It's all too much.

"I'm-" you try, but it's muffled by your own moan. " Gguk ."

"You wanna cum?" He asks, his voice tender and gentle and so incredibly fucked out that it's miracle you haven't fucked him. You think you'd lose it if you heard Jeongguk's voice mid-fuck. You don't realise it sounds a hell of a lot like this.

"Mhmm," is all you can manage, nodding your head. His grip on your neck is so incredibly dominant that you lose all capability of making your own choices. "Can I?"

"God, yeah," he lets out a breathy laugh. "God, I want you to cum so bad. Wanna feel you. Wanna- oh, fuck . That's it Byeol. Cum all over me. Good girl. That's a good fuckin' girl."

His words coax a climax out of you, body shuddering, pussy trembling around his cock. It's violently fast and yet terribly slow all at the same time. He hugs you tight to his chest. Holds you through your orgasm. Breaks one of the rules, and presses a kiss against your hair. You don't really notice.

You do notice the way his legs shudder against your ass just as you finish coming down, and how he hugs you to his chest even tighter. How he fucking whines. Stammers. "Oh, fuh- Shit. Shit, Byeol."

And then his hips pulse beneath you. Once. Slow. Deep. Strong. "Fuck."

They retract. Repeat. Once. Twice.

His lungs suddenly heave, as if he's been his breath the entire time. He pants. Laughs. Tilts his head back. Looks euphoric beneath your neon light. Confirms your assumptions. "Came."

You laugh, too. Slowly lift your thighs and let him slide out of you. He hugs you still. You hug him right back. It's nice. Really fucking nice.

"We're never fucking doing that again," he smiles as his hands rub up and down your back in the most soothing of ways.

"Oh?" you question, nestling your head into the crock where his neck meets his shoulder. "Not a fan?"

He shakes his head. "Fucking torture. Next time I'm inside you, I'm just fucking you."

It amuses you how tender his hands are as they stroke your back, but his words are just as vulgar as they always are.

"We shouldn't fuck," you tell him, a smirk on your lips, heart not beating quite right yet. "Wouldn't wanna ruin the friendship."

Jeongguk thinks it would be impossible to ruin something as good as this.

"Good job we're not friends, then," he jokes. "Can't stand you."

"Oh yeah, my bad, I forgot," you play along. "And I'm just using you to get closer to Jimin."

"Fuck off," Jeongguk laughs. "Why drink Smirnoff when you could drink Grey Goose instead?"

You roll your eyes at his little barman analogy, and pull away to get yourself cleaned up. He's sad to watch you walk away. Doesn't even want to look at the mess you've made together.

"Hey Byeol," he calls after you. "About that shower?"

He hears you laugh. Can picture your pretty little face as you do so, and how the glitter from your eyes is practically all over your face now. He likes it. You're cosmic.

"My place or yours?"

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

#jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader

22 notes · View notes