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astermath · 1 year

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title taken ✧*

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: ethan makes an offhand comment about potentially “dying a virgin”. you ask him if he’d like you to help with that. and how could he possibly refuse?

word count: 3.8K

notes: first time fully writing smut on this blog! I hope I did okay lol I probs got a bit carried away,, I remember hearing his comment in the movie and being like I VOLUNTEER I CAN HELP lmao, anyways,,, comments / reblogs are highly appreciated, and requests are open! lmk if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further ethan landry related content!

warnings: cursing, protected sex, oral (f and m receiving), ethan realizing how much he loves going down on you lol, MINORS DNI!!!! normal sized font below!

notes: guys hot take but I think ethan is a boobs guy, but what do you think? sound off in the comments ethan nation

P.S.: this is a REPOST with some slight edits, sorry for the inconvenience!!

You distinctly remember the moment when Ethan made that comment.

You were all sitting outside, discussing your theories as to who the Ghostface killer could be and who you guys should be watching out for. When Ethan realized he was part of the core friend group, and as a result, also a target, he looked panicked.

“Am I gonna die a virgin?”

It was an offhand comment that no one paid much attention to, it seemed like everyone pretty much expected that from him. But you didn’t. Sure, he was a total dork, and really bad at talking to girls, but he was a pretty boy. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t considered hooking up with him before, but… That comment truly solidified the thought for you.

The two of you were sat on the couch of Chad and Ethan’s shared dorm. Despite Mindy telling you she didn’t trust him and that you shouldn’t be hanging out alone with him, you did very much need his tutoring. You’d rather get killed by Ghostface than have to retake econ.

But you couldn’t focus on the material. Not when Ethan’s virgin comment was making all kinds of images appear in your mind. You weren’t even listening to what he was saying, your brain having a field day with the thought of you taking that title away from him.

“Hey, Ethan.” You finally spoke up, looking away from your notes.

“Yeah?” He looked at you, the end of his pen held to his lips. He always had a habit of biting his pen when he got distracted.

“Are you really a virgin?”

The bluntness of your out of the blue question completely took him out of it. His eyes widened and he just sort of froze up, like his brain short circuited. You could tell he started blushing, and god did it look adorable.

“U-Uhm…” He put down his pen and tried to look anywhere but where your eyes were. Frankly, he was a bit embarrassed about it. He’d never even had a girlfriend, let alone have sex before, and as much as Chad tried to get him involved with girls he always struggled with it. Not just because of how awkward he generally was.

But because he had a crush on you already.

No one knew, not even his roommate, but lately he’d been struggling with keeping it to himself, especially as the two of you had been hanging out more on your own. There were so many moments where he just wanted to be closer to you, move all these papers aside and just kiss you right then and there.

His eyes were fixated on his laptop as he swallowed hard, clearly nervous about the whole ordeal. “Uhm… Yeah. I am…” He brought up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, trying to keep his hands busy so his nerves wouldn’t show as much. “Just… Never got around to it.” He chuckled nervously.

You closed your laptop, realizing you’d made the poor boy uncomfortable with your sudden interest in his sex life. Or, well, lack there of. “Hey, it’s okay! It’s nothing to be ashamed about, there’s no, like, expiration date on when you have to fuck someone…” You tried to make him feel a bit better.

Ethan nodded awkwardly, genuinely wishing this couch would just swallow him whole so he could disappear. The girl he liked knew he was a virgin loser with no game, there was no way you were ever going to want him now.

The two of you sat in silence for a bit, Ethan wondering if it was too late to jump out a window and forget this ever happened. You, however, had a different turn of events in mind.

“Do you want me to help with that?”

Those words made Ethan look up from his laptop and his eyes widen. If your previous question was a pitch, this one was a home run. He wasn’t even completely sure if you actually asked that or if he imagined it, until he met your gaze. But he wanted to be sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. “W-What?”

You shuffled a little closer, legs touching his, putting a hand on his thigh and leaning in slightly. “Do you want me to take your virginity?”

Ethan can feel blood rush to his cock from the question alone, his gaze darting from your lips back up to your eyes. If this was a dream, it was definitely the best one he’s had so far.

“Yes.”

Your lips meet his only a second after his reply, the book on his lap falling to the floor as you both lean in at the same time. You could tell he was nervous, but that didn’t stop him from trying. You tilted your head to the side and opened your mouth slightly to run your tongue across his bottom lip, an action that elicited a slight whimper from him.

His arms snaked around your waist and you raised yourself up onto his lap. A hand soon found its place in his curls, tugging gently to tilt his head back as your lips traveled down to his jaw, then to his neck, peppering gentle kisses and love bites on the way.

“S-Shit…” He spoke between hot breaths, one of his hands now resting on the soft flesh of your thigh, squeezing slightly whenever your teeth would bite down on his sensitive skin.

You giggle softly at how sensitive he was, lips sucking a darker mark on the spot below his ear. His hips were shifting beneath you, and even through multiple layers of clothing, you could tell he was getting harder by the second. You pulled back, hands coming up to cup his pretty face. He was already panting a bit, cheeks tinged pink from all this newfound excitement. “You look so pretty...” You press another soft kiss to his lips. “This okay?”

Ethan looks up at you with an almost desperate look in those doe eyes of his, nodding at your question. As much as you wanted to fuck him right then and there, Ethan deserved to be taken care of a little, especially since this was his first time experiencing most of this.

“Good, good...” Your thumb rubs gently across the soft skin of his cheek. “Wanna... Take this to the bedroom?”

“Please.” He breathes out against your lips.

The walk, or almost run to his bedroom, was a blur in your mind. You wasted no time, quickly getting inside and locking the door behind you both. Ethan was eager now that this was finally feeling real, hands swiftly finding your hips again and pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

“Hmm... Someone’s excited...” You mumbled in between kisses, stumbling backwards onto the bed until your back hit the mattress. Ethan held himself above you, brown curls perfectly framing his face as he admired how beautiful you looked on his bed.

He kissed you again, tongues playing with one another as his confidence was spurred on by his pure exhilaration. “Been... Wanting to do this forever...” He spoke against your lips as your hands searched for the hem of his shirt. “With you...” He pulled his shirt off in a hurry, diving back to meet your neck, pressing feverish kisses to your skin.

“Yeah?” You bit your lip, hand coming up to further push him into the crook where your shoulder and neck met. You let out a soft mewl when he bit down, wondering if he’d imagined this before. One of your hands moved over his chest, nails raking over the skin and undoubtedly leaving red lines in their wake. They travelled over his abs, down to his crotch, palming slightly, which earned a delicious groan from him.

You tilt your head to kiss the side of his head and get his attention to meet your gaze. His eyes find yours, half lidded, pupils blown out like he was high off the moment. “Me too.” You say, and you could swear it activated something in him when you did.

His hands start roaming under your shirt, and you take that as your cue to take yours off too. He stops for a moment, purely to admire the newly exposed parts of your body. Sure, he’d snuck glances at your chest when you wore tighter shirts, or when the collar would dip down just enough to give him a peek. But he only imagined touching your tits, how soft they were, how well you’d react to his hands.

His hand reached out and he gently cupped your breast, still a little careful. “So soft...” He mumbled to himself, his thumb slowly rolling over your nipple, almost teasingly so. You whined softly, arching your back a little into his touch. His other hand joined in and he squeezed them a bit, seemingly entranced by just how soft and pleasant they felt. Like they were made to be held by him.

He leaned down to your chest and looked up at you with puppy eyes. He could ask you to rob a bank with those eyes, and you’d do it. You just hoped he didn’t realize how you weak you were to that look.

“Can I?” He licked his lips.

“Y-Yeah, Ethan, anything...” You rubbed your thighs together. You knew he was just taking things slow, for both of your sakes, but god it felt like he was teasing you so badly.

He licked your nipple, a little hesitant, but he took the hand in his hair as a sign that he could continue. He wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud and suckled softly, closing his eyes as his fingers played around with your other nipple. You swore he was getting off on just sucking and touching your tits, noticing slight movements of his hips grinding into the bed.

He let go with an audible ‘pop’, earning a delicious whimper from you.

“E-Ethan...” You whined, catching your bottom lip under your teeth.

“Yeah...?” He hoped he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

“Touch me...” You spread your thighs a little more. “Please?”

“O-Oh, right... Sorry, I just... Got a little caught up in the moment.” He chuckled nervously and you did the same. You were glad there was still an air of lightness surrounding the whole ordeal. The last thing you’d want was for him to feel judged or uncomfortable.

He moved back a little between your thighs, hands exploring the soft skin of your legs with a pleased hum. He’d dreamt about moments like these so many times, ever since you became part of the friend group, he just couldn’t stop imagining what it was like. What you’d feel like, what you’d sound like... He was still processing a little that it was all actually happening.

His hand hesitatingly moved over your inner thigh, bringing a finger to gently trace over the fabric of your panties. His eyes widened a little at what he felt; you were soaked. He felt a little more confident in knowing he did that to you, but also a little shocked. “You’re... So wet...”

You brought up your hands to cover your face. You were, yes, but the way he was saying it made you all the more conscious about the effects he was having on your body. “Ethan... That’s-- You can’t...”

He grinned slightly at your reaction. He never knew you could get shy like this, you were usually such an open person. “Alright, let me just...” His fingers dipped under the waistband of your panties. He bit his lip when he discovered the hot wetness there, gently running over your slicked folds. “Is this okay?” he looked up at you.

“Mhm...” You nodded, your thighs twitching slightly when his finger grazed over your clit. “F-Fuck, yes... There, keep... Keep doing that.” You felt a little guilty for a second, remembering this was supposed to be about him. But you were doing him a favor, really, he was bound to have to find out how to touch a girl sooner or later.

His middle finger ran gentle and slow circles over your clit as his other hand kept busy running up and down your thigh. He stopped for a moment, hooking his finger around the elastic of your panties, looking at you for approval to take them off. You said something along the lines of “go ahead” between your whimpers, so he gently removed them from your body.

Again, he was taken aback by how beautiful you were, pussy glistening with juices. “God...” His thumb ran over your clit and you shivered slightly, having missed his touch, even if it was just for a few moments.

An idea sprung alive in his head, something he’d thought about many times before. “Hey, uhm... Can I...” He seemed nervous about proposing it.

“Hm? What is it Ethan?” You propped yourself up slightly onto your elbows, looking at him.

“Can I go down on you?” He paused for a moment, swallowing. “I, uh... I’ve always wanted to try that.”

You smiled at his request. Usually, the first thing guys would want is for a girl to go down on them, but you supposed Ethan wanted to explore all the options a little first. And maybe he wanted this to last longer than he would with your mouth on him. “Y-Yeah, sure...”

He smiled back, arms now on both sides of your thighs as he leaned his head down closer to your aching core. His hot breath hit your pussy, and you resisted the urge to just pull him closer. Instead, you ran your fingers over his scalp with an encouraging nudge. He stuck out his tongue, running it flat over the entirety of your wetness, humming at the taste.

You squirmed when he reached your clit, and his hands came up to settle on your thighs. He flicked his tongue and you moaned, almost obscenely, at the action. “F-Fuck!” He did it again, and your thighs started clamping down on him. “Jesus, Ethan...” He brought his lips down onto the needy bundle of nerves and suckled gently. Your head threw back as his tongue sent waves of warm tingles through your entire body.

“A-Are you sure this is your first time?” You spoke breathily through your moans and it only spurred him on further. He looked up at you with those all too familiar puppy eyes, tongue eagerly lapping at your juices. He moaned into your cunt, rutting into the bed slightly, fuck it felt good to please you.

You felt a familiar knot start to form in your stomach, hips moving against Ethan’s face as you mumbled his name over your whimpers. He sucked down on your clit again and that sent you over the edge, hand gripping his curls as you became undone beneath him. You rode it out on his face a bit before you relaxed back onto the mattress, thighs trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm. “Holy shit... Ethan...”

He slowly got up, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth clean. “I hope I did alright.” He smiled, gently stroking your leg.

“Are you kidding me?” you spoke up after finally catching your breath. “You did so well baby.” You propped yourself up and he leaned down to kiss you, letting you taste your own juices on his tongue. Your hands went to his pants in the meantime, working on undoing his belt. “If you’d just… Help me out with those…” You smiled against his lips. “I could return the favor.”

He wasted no time in taking off his pants, kicking them off the bed until he was left in just his boxers. He kneeled on the mattress, his hard-on straining against the fabric of his underwear. You leaned forward onto your elbows, and he swore just the sight of you like that would have finished him off.

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his bulge through the fabric, and you noticed a twitch from his cock in return. “Been wanting to know what you taste like for months…” You mumbled, hooking your fingers over the waistband of his underwear to free his throbbing cock. The tip was already dripping with pre-cum, proof of just how worked up he got from eating you out earlier.

“Just relax, ‘kay?” You looked up at him and offered a sultry smile, to which he nodded. You reached out and with a gentle grip, pumped his length a few times. He bit his lip, suppressing a groan. God your hand felt so much better than his…

You leaned in and licked across the tip, collecting the bead of pre-cum on your tongue and savoring it. “Such a pretty cock too…” You licked up the length of him and he hissed through his teeth, hand landing gently on the back of your head. Not pushing, not pulling, just wanting to touch you.

He whined out your name when you suckled on the tip, looking down at you with desperate and needy eyes. “Fuck… T-That feels… So fucking good oh my god…” His hand moves over to your jaw, so you’re looking up at him now, and the eye contact doesn’t break, not even once.

His breathing picks up when you start to bob your head, but he stops you before you go deeper, pulling out of your mouth. “Shit, sorry, was that too far?” You look at him with a worried expression.

“No, no, not at all, it’s just… I wanna last longer.” He looked a bit embarrassed, and you felt a sense of pride of almost making him cum just from giving him head for a bit.

“That’s okay,” You got up to your knees and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’m starting to get impatient anyways,” His breath hitched when you traced your fingers over his length again. “Need you inside me…”

You gave him a slight push so he sat down on the bed as you leaned over to grab a condom from the pocket of your discarded shorts. You rolled it over his cock, a snug fit, as expected, and your eyes went back to his face. He watched your pussy hover over his length, mentally preparing himself. If you going down on him felt that incredible, then this was about to be an out of body experience.

You put one hand on his chest to stabilize yourself, and reached one hand under to run his tip between your folds, lubing him up with your juices. “You ready?”

He nodded, hands coming up to gently rest on your hips. With that, you sank down onto his cock, slowly but steadily taking him inch by inch. Both of you moaned in unison at the joining of your bodies, neither of you imagining it would feel quite like this. You, surprised by the stretch he gave your cunt, him, surprised by your warmth and tightness.

“Fuck…” You sighed out, before you fully took his length, skin meeting skin with an audible clap. “So... Deep...” You put both of your hands on his chest, leaning forward a little. “Feels good, huh? You fit inside me so perfectly...”

“Shit...” He squeezes your hips harder, not enough to bruise, at least not yet. “So tight...” Ethan moves his hips up a little and you moan at the movement, the head of his cock grazing a very special spot inside you.

“F-Fuck, Ethan, hold on... J-Just...” You raised your hips, almost pulling him out completely.

“Let me...” You lowered again, ass meeting his hips. “Take care of you...” You started to establish a steady rhythm, Ethan watching your body move in complete fascination. You were gorgeous, tits bouncing, making the prettiest noises. Any guy would kill to have you on him like that, and he was no exception.

Your thighs started burning a little after a while, and he could tell as your movements got less intense. But you felt so good, every single change in motion sent jolts of pleasure through his body, his cock twitching whenever you would moan out his name.

He decided to keep chasing this high and take the reigns, putting a hand on your lower back and getting up, laying you down on the mattress as he pulled out.

“E-Ethan! What are you-- o-oh my god--” Your sentence got cut off by him sliding back inside you, his arms resting besides your body. You didn’t expect this more... Initiative-taking side of him, but it was welcome either way. You hooked your legs around his hips to pull him in closer, arms resting over his shoulders.

He quickly began thrusting, hips snapping forward, the room filled with the almost pornographic sounds coming from the two of you. He looked at you, curls sticking to his sweaty forehead, mouth slightly agape. You pulled him in by his shoulders to capture his lips, moaning into his mouth as he picked up the pace.

“Fuck... ‘M close... So close...” He spoke through heavy pants, head now buried into your neck.

“Me too baby, me too, holy shit don’t stop... D-Don’t stop!” You felt the hot coil in your stomach get to a breaking point, the bed rocking slightly with Ethan’s movements as you started repeating his name between your moans.

Ethan’s hips pushed into you one last time, cock twitching as he came, filling the condom nearly to its brim. He groaned your name into your neck, breath hot against your love bite covered skin.

You followed right after, legs clamping down on him, your pussy clenching onto his cock and milking every last drop out of him. Your thighs trembled as you panted, holding him close as he rode out his orgasm with a few last sloppy thrusts.

His body collapsed on top of you, the weight almost comforting, and you wrapped your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his head. He moved his head to kiss you lazily, and you chuckled at how adorable he was being. He pressed a few kisses to your lips, eyes fluttering open soon after.

“Thank you...” He smiled sleepily, still coming down from the amazing high he’d experienced just then. “That was... Amazing...”

“Could say the same to you...” You smiled back, basking in the sweet after sex euphoria while you could. You whined slightly when he finally pulled out, suddenly feeling a bit empty.

Ethan disposed of the condom while you went to his bathroom to pee really quick. He sat back down on the bed and looked at his phone, seeing multiple messages from his roommate.

[chadmeister]: jesus christ

[chadmeister]: are u guys almost done

[chadmeister]: i’ve been here for like 20 minutes now you know

[chadmeister]: pretty sure the entire floor heard u two

[chadmeister]: at least u def won’t die a virgin now MY MANNN

tag list <3

@kometqh

#aster writes scream #ethanmath #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry writing #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry fic #ethan landry fan fic #scream 2023 #scream VI #scream 6 #scream 6 fic #ethan landry scream 6 #ethan landry scream #ethan kirsch

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year

Text

Studious IV (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

You continue reading Aemond's diary. As his true feelings for you become ever more clear, can you decipher your own feelings for him?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: Aemond in his smut writer era (semi-public sex, p in v sex, tiddy suckin', riding, fingering, oral sex f receiving, bad sex)

Author's Note: So sorry for the delay! But this baby is 11K words, so hopefully that makes up for it! Also, I tried for a long time to format this like the others, but tumblr wouldn't let me post it if I did, so the formatting is a little different here.

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious IV

You were never setting foot in the library again.

Not after what you just read. Not when you were sure that the mere memory of it would have you bursting into flames the moment you crossed the threshold.

Good gods, only a few entries ago, Aemond could hardly bring himself to write the word ‘cunt,’ and now this? What in the Seven Hells were his advisors – Grand Maester Orwyle, Lord Jasper Wylde, and Prince Aegon – teaching him?

You weren’t sure whether the odd feeling in your stomach was due to how much you ate – an entire meat pie and five tea cakes, all washed down with a pot and a half of raspberry tea – or what you had just read.

Either way, it was not enough to stop you from glancing about your bedchamber to ensure no one was watching you and then rereading the entry from the beginning.

The 16th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I have just returned from the library. Grand Maester Orwyle suggested that I consult a book on anatomy. Since there was no business of court I was required to attend today, I asked one of the librarians to help me retrieve the title after I finished my training.

I also found a few books Aegon recommended, only after I dismissed the librarian – I did not want him to know that I took those. Or that I even knew what they were. Gossip abounds in the capital, and I do not wish to be the subject of more than I already am.

By the titles alone, I am surprised Mother allows them to remain in the Keep. I likely will not read most of them. Aegon has already traumatised me quite thoroughly. I see no reason to allow him to ruin reading for me, as well. Although one title, ‘A Caution for Young Girls,’ seems innocent enough.

But the books are not why I am writing now, when my usual routine is to write immediately before I retire to bed. I just… I need to commit this to paper before it leaves me entirely.

On my way out of the library, I saw her. My wife – if I die tomorrow or in a hundred years, I shall never tire of calling her that.

She has quickly found the more private areas of the library, it seems. I would never have seen her if I had not been considering going there to read myself.

It must mean something that she did not choose just any of the countless hidden places within the maze of the library, but my favourite – a secluded alcove along the western wall. An indicator of our compatibility, perhaps. Or even a sign from the gods?

Had the books I’d been carrying not been so… unsuitable, I would have asked to join her.

No, I wouldn’t have. That would require far more courage than I can summon when I see her.

I just stared at her, watching her face as she read. From where I stood, I could not see what she was reading. But I could see her, and that was enough.

She is so expressive! I saw her both smile and frown in quick succession, and once, her entire face scrunched in displeasure as if she had just taken a bite of lemon! Gods, how can even such an unpleasant expression be so beautiful?

Perhaps I should not have watched her at all, for the longer I stood there, the further my mind drifted. And then, I heard Aegon’s voice, as clearly as if he were standing beside me.

‘Don’t limit yourself to the bedchamber brother, or even the bed! A wall or a table serves just as well. And there is a certain thrill to knowing you could be discovered…’

Damn him. Why did I ever ask for his assistance? I would have been better off enlisting the help of an actual whore! At least then, the vulgarity would not come from the future King. Damn him to the deepest of the Seven Hells.

But that stupid advice echoed in my mind over and over. And against my will and better judgement, an image began to form. A dream – a waking dream.

Though my feet remained planted on the floor, I imagined setting aside my books and joining her in that alcove. She would look up and smile upon hearing my approach, perhaps even giggle at my attempt at stealth.

I would sit beside her and ask what she was reading. I might even ask her to read to me. But I would not let her read for long.

I would kiss her while she read. Not on her lips but all over her perfect face. Her cheeks, her forehead, on the tip of her nose. All just to distract her, to make her laugh. Only when she made so much noise that I feared discovery would I kiss her lips to quiet her and finally claim my prize.

The kiss would not be like in the Sept, or in her chambers that night. Instead, she would kiss me back and open herself to me. I would kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. Until we were both out of breath but still wanting more.

Seeing her like that, with her lips swollen and cheeks flushed… I would not be able to wait until we returned to our chambers. I would lift her onto that very table, books be damned.

Like our wedding night, we would not undress. We would be in too much of a hurry.

But even hurried, I would be gentle. I would take the time to prepare her, as Lord Wylde said I must do every time. Doing so makes the experience more pleasurable for the woman, he says. And Orwyle added that her enjoyment makes it more likely that the coupling will be fruitful.

Gods, I hardly care about that anymore. Of course, I want an heir, or several. But I want her more. I want her to feel as much pleasure as I do. To ‘peak,’ as Wylde and Orwyle put it. Aegon uses other words, but I find them too vulgar.

And in the library, making an heir would be the last thing on my mind. Even finding my own pleasure would be secondary. I would use my fingers to prepare her – perhaps get her to peak once before I even enter her?

Aegon says women can find release much more than men can. According to him, he once made a woman peak ten times in one night. I would be more amenable to believing him if he didn’t also claim he did so five times. But maybe he is right about ‘practising’ increasing stamina. Though he has had years of practice, and I have had only two days…

But in the dream world where I have the courage to approach her at all, and the gall to bed her in the library of all places (can you call it ‘bedding’ if it is not done in an actual bed?), I also have that stamina. And the skill to indeed make her peak with just my fingers.

I do not know what sounds she would make, as she was entirely silent on our wedding night, but I would want her to make them. I would want her to make such noise that I would have no choice but to kiss her to quiet her and keep her from drawing the attention of the rest of the library.

Even when I was buried within her, I would kiss her. With one arm wrapped around her hips to hold her steady as I fucked her so hard the table would shake, and the other hand tangled in her hair so I could kiss her just as hard.

I want to kiss her so badly. When I finally go to her again, that is what I will do first.

Once we had both finished – for I would ensure she peaked again with me inside her – I would kiss her more, softly, until our breathing steadied. Then, we would simply take our seats again, and this time, I would read to her.

By all the Seven, what has become of me? To not only have such thoughts but to revel in them as I do?

You didn’t bother reading the rest of the entry again before clutching the diary to your chest and staring at the bed canopy above you as a thousand questions burned through your mind and set your heart racing.

Had he been thinking about that the day he came to you in the library?

Was it what he intended to do, had you not reacted so poorly to his words?

Were you really wishing that he had?

You turned on your side, cradling his diary as you once did a small stuffed pony, and noticed for the first time that night had fallen – you had spent nearly the entire day reading. For a moment, you considered running to Aemond’s chambers. But when you looked back at the journal, there were still more than a dozen ribbons shut in its pages.

And if you went to him just after reading what you did…

Whatever was becoming of Aemond, no doubt thanks to the men he had asked for help in better bedding you, by reading his diary and the most private thoughts and fantasies contained within, it was becoming of you too. For when your eyes drifted closed, Aemond’s dream of the library became your dream as well.

The next several days of entries were almost identical.

Aemond woke at dawn after a night of dreams filled with you. They were not always of a carnal nature. Sometimes he dreamed simply of holding or kissing you. Once, he dreamed about flying with you atop his dragon. You didn’t know whether the prospect was thrilling or terrifying. Perhaps both.

Each day, he broke his fast, trained, then ate a small meal before joining court.

Before joining you.

When he wrote in the diary after dinner and several hours of studying and ‘practising’ (you still could not determine what that meant), he still remembered every little thing you did. You had never spoken at court – it was not your place to. But he had catalogued your every movement and reaction to the business of the realm. Every raise of your brows, every repressed smile, and every curious tilt of your head.

You thought you were quite proficient at maintaining a regal mask of indifference. Your mother had you practice it on the journey to King’s Landing while she commanded your brothers to shout at you the most outrageous things they could think of (much of which she promptly scolded them for when they were done).

But Aemond saw through the mask. Not only that, but he correctly interpreted every movement you made.

He knew that the twitch of your lip when Lord Bolton made a petition was a sign of your marked distaste for the man. He knew the scrunch of your brow upon the reading of a missive from a Pentosi diplomat was you noticing a contradiction from the previous message and realising the diplomat was lying. And he knew that you stiffened every time he looked at you because you were nervous about what he would say or do.

Aemond knew you. Even then.

And yet you had so dreadfully misunderstood him.

The shame of it was enough to make you set down the diary and call for a bath – a private bath, without any of your maids present even in the adjourning rooms. You gave an excuse that you were exhausted and simply wished to remain alone.

But really?

As part of his study of the anatomy book Orwyle recommended, Aemond had drawn a diagram of what lay between a woman’s legs. And annotated it based on the advice of Lord Wylde and Prince Aegon.

You were curious to see – with the aid of a hand mirror – just how accurate the diagram and annotations were.

You awoke the following morning feeling more refreshed than you had since you came to the palace, from both the welcome break in your courtly duties and the exploration you had conducted in the privacy of your bath. Though you were fairly sure you did not reach a ‘peak,’ as Aemond described it, you felt close to the height of something several times. But each time, you panicked at the intensity of the racing feelings within you and withdrew your hand. Still, those few minutes of pleasure were incredibly relaxing.

And as it was Aemond’s notes that allowed you to discover the feeling that your own clumsy attempts had failed to bring, the prospect that you would – eventually – once more join him in his bed became thrilling beyond reason.

In truth, the only thing that stopped you from rushing across the castle the very moment you emerged from the bath was the unfortunate fact that you were still bleeding, though it was light.

More than that, while your body was more than ready to forgive Aemond, your heart and mind were still hesitant. He had hurt you. He made you cry. Reading his diary helped you understand that it had never been intentional. However, you still needed to understand everything before making a final decision on whether to forgive him and if you could, as Aemond hoped in his note, ‘learn to like’ or even to love him.

So, after breaking your fast, you again settled into the couch and turned to the next green ribbon.

The 23rd day in the 5th moon of the year

Were Aegon not my brother and the heir, I would throw him from the top of the Rookery.

‘A Caution for Young Girls’ is no such thing. It is little more than a manual in promiscuity and sin!

But… damn him. It is quite educational.

Unlike the book Grand Maester Orwyle suggested, it is not focused on the science of anatomy or conception. Rather, it is entirely concerned with the pleasure of women. After all, it is the supposedly true story of a woman’s quest for pleasure.

A Wylde woman, if it is to be believed. I may have to ask Lord Jasper about it. Is this why he’s had such success with his own wives?

But that, and indeed the sinful nature of the book itself, is unimportant. What is important is that it may actually be the key to my learning how to pleasure my wife.

It spoke at length of various methods of using one’s fingers. Crooking the fingers while within seems to be crucial, as is locating a ‘sweet spot’ where her walls feel slightly different. That spot, as well as the ‘pearl’ which lays at the top of her sex, is the epicentre of her pleasure.

And, like the others said, preparation is required. This is where the use of the fingers comes into it – as well as various other methods. For example, the book mentions kissing quite often, and not only on the lips. Or the cheeks. Or even anywhere on the face.

I admit the idea, though it is new to me, is quite appealing. The book mentioned several places where women most like to be kissed. The jaw, the throat, behind the ear, the nape of the neck, the collarbone…

There was a spot of ink, as though Aemond’s pen had been resting on the page without moving for a long moment.

…the breasts, and lower.

I do not understand why. Perhaps it is because of Aegon’s incessant comments about the breasts of every woman in the Keep, save our mother and his wife – would that he would also exclude my wife! – but I find myself thinking about her breasts with startling frequency. I did not get to see them on our wedding night after I foolishly forgot to undress her.

There is a story in the book which… well, I find myself wanting to replicate. One which would provide me ample access to her breasts. But more than that, it carries an intimacy which I crave most of all.

When Lady Coryanne was serving as a handmaid to a warlock in Qarth, she often found herself called to help him ‘relax’ after a long day. On such occasions, she would mount him while he sat at his desk and ‘ride’ him while he buried his face in her breasts.

I… it was easy to imagine my wife and me in a similar, though more loving, position. Likely not at my desk, as I don’t actually use it often. But perhaps, here. On my chair by the hearth, where I read my books and write in this diary before bed.

She would come back – for she would be living here, with me, not across the Holdfast and so far away – after a long day. Maybe she would have been in the gardens, or with Mother, Helaena and the children, or in the library for hours. I would have been stuck away from her all day in meetings, court, or training.

Even apart from her for only a day, I would miss her terribly. As I do every hour I do not see her. And she would miss me too.

When she came in, she would press herself against the door as she locked it, then turn to me with a mischievous grin. I would know what she wanted, but I would not play along. Instead, I’d mutter a greeting and turn back to my book, pretending that my blood was not racing at just the sight of her. For I want her blood to be as heated as mine.

You read the last paragraph again, the realisation finally set in that Aemond was about to narrate another of his fantasies. Fortunately, after his previous entry about the library, you decided to be more cautious and had already dismissed your servants until your afternoon meal. You had suspected that there may be more in the diary that was thoroughly unsuitable for prying eyes.

And, thanks to his diligent notetaking, you knew precisely what to do when the feelings such unsuitable words provoked began to burn through you.

You undoubtedly did not want an audience for that…

I would let her tease me, pretending none of it fazed me. When she brushed her fingers lightly across my shoulders, I would not flinch. When she leaned over me further than she would really need to see what I was reading, but wanting me to see that peek of her breasts nearly spilling out from her dress, I would barely look. And when she pressed a kiss, long and slow, to my neck – gods, would I like that too? – I might even pretend it was an inconvenience.

It would vex her that I did not give her the attention she desperately wanted. Not enough to truly anger her, but only enough to make her pout. So that when she took the book from my hands and dropped it to the floor, then sat atop me in the chair with her thighs straddling mine… I would simply have no choice but to grab her little lip as she stuck it out and push it back into place before kissing her.

I would kiss her in every place the book instructs, taking my time to worship every bit of her. I want to drive her as mad as she does me just by her mere existence.

But I know she would not simply let me tease her. She would return each kiss I gave her and more. Atop me, she would roll her hips slowly, purposefully, as if we were engaged in a dance. I would be able to feel her, hot and wet and as eager as me, but each time I rose to meet her, she would pull away.

Gods, am I really wishing for her to deny me? Perhaps practising as Aegon instructed has conditioned me to crave such delays to my satisfaction.

Either way, I think I would break before she did. She is strong-willed, and with as many brothers as she has, I believe she can be quite patient. So, I would beg. I would apologise for trying to tease her and plead for her forgiveness. And for her to…

She would, I hope, without hesitation. She would rise only long enough for her to remove her smallclothes and for me to do away with my trousers. Then, we would both sit again, together, with me gently guiding her down to mount me – Seven Hells, that makes it sound like I’m a horse.

I’ll be whatever she wants.

Again, and as always, I would give her a moment to adjust and make sure she is comfortable. Orwyle’s book said that with well-endowed partners – which, according to the measurements in the book, I am – women may always need that moment.

But I would be glad to give it to her. For it would allow me to unlace her bodice, and like the warlock from the book, I could bury my face in my beloved’s breasts.

I find it hard to imagine what it would be like, how they would feel. Soft, I think. Warm, as she is. And perhaps, if I pressed close enough, I could hear her heart beating.

When I was fully settled within her, would I hear it beat faster? Or would it slow with contentment, knowing she was safe and loved – oh so dearly loved – within my arms. Perhaps it would be like the stories, and I would hear it skip a beat.

Either way, I would be more than content to just sit there, breathe her in, and let her move at her own pace. We would not need to be fast, as we would in the library. In my own rooms – our rooms – there would be no need for hurry. We could just stay there, entwined, or we could move together.

I think I would prefer it slowly. Not even seeking our releases, really. Just… enjoying each other. Enjoying the connection of our bodies, our minds, and our souls. Knowing that we are one, that the gods have made us one, and that nothing can tear us apart.

Although… I do think her legs would get tired after a while. That is something I should perhaps be worried about. Especially if she did want to move, and fast. To seek release.

If she did, I would help her. The book did not detail how, as Lady Coryanne was a servant at the time, but… I could figure it out. I could move my hips up to meet hers, or even lift her on my own? I think doing so with my hands on her hips would give me the most leverage. Or perhaps her rear?

I am very drawn to the idea of holding her close as we reach our peaks. Of feeling her breath on my skin, being close enough to hear each little noise she makes, and the sensation of her gripping me as tight as she can as she comes. Even the thought of her nails digging into me brings a certain thrill. And if I don’t reach my peak with her – which, I think, is very unlikely – we can always continue. Or move somewhere more comfortable if her legs do get tired.

At this point, I think I am more than ready to practice. Of course, this wasn’t my intention when I started writing, but… yes, I am most definitely ready. And anything else I wanted to write about seems inconsequential now.

You dropped the diary onto your heaving chest, the image Aemond’s words had painted still burning in your mind. Seven Hells, you could practically feel his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest as you moved together, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered words of praise between desperate kisses.

With a hazy smile, you snuggled further into the couch and beneath your blanket. As exhilarating as the descriptions of his desires were, what truly warmed your heart was the way he wrote about you, the two of you together.

The connection of your souls as one? It was exactly what you’d dreamed of when first told of your betrothal. Aemond was what you dreamed of.

Why did he have to stop writing? What in the name of the Seven was he practising that was more important than that?

Frustrated and with your pleasure now truly over, you closed the diary and turned on your side, resigned to simply stewing in your own thoughts for the few hours left until your maids returned.

After a light, solitary afternoon meal, you again dismissed your maids. By this point, they were more than a little suspicious about the titleless book you were reading. But, you insisted that you simply wanted to be alone, for your moon’s blood still plagued you. It wasn’t entirely a lie. You did still have some cramping and a slight headache.

In truth, it was because you knew what would happen in just a few entries – your second night together.

It surely wouldn’t be as thrilling as some of his other fantasies. You knew that firsthand. But after learning what Aemond felt for you, you were desperate to know his side of that night.

So desperate, in fact, that you barely skimmed the following two entries in your haste to reach it. Both primarily had to do with whatever smut he had read in A Caution for Young Girls. The first was a rather exhaustive list of all the ways he wanted to kiss you – and there were far more ways than you were previously aware of.

The second caused your most intense blushing yet, for it was near treasonous! After reading another story of Coryanne Wylde ‘riding’ a man, he fantasised about you riding him while he sat on the Iron Throne. It was an intriguing idea, but it seemed a little too hazardous to tempt you.

Finally, you reached what you had been waiting for.

The 26th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I had hoped not to make an entry today – for I had every intention of spending tonight in my wife’s chambers. But she is there, and tragically, I am here.

Tonight was almost worse than our wedding night.

When I saw her watching me in the training yard today, I thought… she was almost smiling – at me! She had no obligation to be there, and yet she was! She sought me out! She wanted to see me!

I had to bite back a cry of joy and relief. I immediately abandoned the rest of my training, nearly impaling the poor squire with my sword for how hard I threw it at him, so I could rush to the ramparts and greet her.

But when I got there, she was gone. I asked a few of the other lords and ladies that were there, but no one knew where she went. Even after speaking to her, however briefly, I still do not understand why she left.

You felt your cheeks flush with shame. Aemond hadn’t grimaced at you that day – quite the opposite. He had been so excited to see you there, and as usual, you had misinterpreted his reaction.

Or, based on how frequently these misunderstandings occurred, perhaps his expressions were merely indecipherable to normal people. Or, more likely, maybe just to you.

You set his diary down, careful to use one of your discarded ribbons to mark your place, and picked up your own. By this point, you had filled several pages with your reactions to Aemond’s writing – some of it sincere, some bordering on humour.

Yet you had no words to express how sorry you were that you had so thoroughly misjudged him. So you wrote nothing and just kept reading.

When I went to her chambers to check on her, I encountered one of her maids, who told me she had retired early with a headache and would not be joining the family for dinner.

Perhaps I should have gone into her chambers then and asked what was wrong. I knew – or at least suspected – that the headache was a lie. An excuse to allow her privacy. I often do the same, citing my scar. Which, as I told her, is not always a lie.

But if I had gone to her, as I wished. I would not have known what to say. Ask her why she ran from the training yard without speaking to me? Or why she wanted to avoid me and the family? Tell her I’m sorry for the disappointment of our wedding night? Ask Beg for a second chance?

I could not do it. I was tired from training and admittedly still somewhat discombobulated from realising she had been watching me. Though I did make it to her door, I merely touched the handle for a moment before retiring to my own chambers.

Now, after yet another disastrous visit… I should have gone to her earlier. I should have trusted my instincts (as Aegon often encourages me to do) instead of allowing my mind to think itself into an inescapable hole.

As I bathed and redressed, and even while attending court and dinner, I could not stop thinking about her. Agonising over what I may have done to make her flee from me?

I never even considered that she may actually have a headache until I was again at her door after dinner. The fear that I was disturbing her, perhaps making her pain worse, was nearly enough to make me turn and flee.

But then, her voice came, soft and light and so enticing. Of course, I somehow managed to answer idiotically when she asked who it was. Though she lessened the sting of embarrassment with a small joke. She is so achingly clever!

I asked her how she was, and her answer made it evident that the headache was a ruse. I am trying not to be too proud that my deduction was correct. She is not used to lying, nor is she good at it. And it is yet another thing I admire about her.

For hours, I planned what I would say to her. It was eloquent and thoughtful – practically poetry.

The tail of the last ‘y’ extended nearly an inch, and you imagined Aemond just staring at the page, consumed by his thoughts for a moment.

But her room looked different tonight. She finally unpacked.

There is a large tapestry above her hearth depicting her home keep, the field below filled with vibrant pink flowers with bright yellow centres. The same flowers appear nearly everywhere. On framed examples of embroidery, on her curtains, pillows, and even the blanket strewn over the back of her couch.

I must find out what they are, for they are clearly very important to her.

You looked up from the diary, glancing about your room. Indeed, you had not realised how many dog roses decorated your possessions. It was no wonder he guessed they were your favourite.

‘I was quite impressed when you brought me my favourite flower,’ you wrote in your diary. ‘I thought you had somehow read my thoughts. I suppose I made it easy for you.’

She also has a large bookcase in her sitting room, which was specifically requested when her father sent word accepting the betrothal. Since the last time I was in her chambers, she has begun to fill the shelves with books and trinkets. I spotted a small silver bell, a wooden box carved with various birds, and a little glass flower. It was not the same flower that is so prevalent elsewhere in her chambers (this one was a pale purple rather than pink), but still quite pretty.

While pondering that flower, I returned to the couch to compare it to the pink flower on her blanket and saw what she had been reading – “The Last Dragonlords,” my first, and still favourite, history of my house. It is not a particularly rigorous academic work, but I prefer it for the sense of wonder it has for the story of my ancestors.

If, at that point, I remembered any of what I wanted to say to her, the sight of that book, and the knowledge that she was somehow reading my favourite… I lost all words. I fear I fell silent for an uncomfortably long time, for she spoke next.

She wanted to know the reason for my visit. I asked her directly about the ruse of her headache. She seemed nervous, so I told her I do the same and that I often experience lingering pain. I was tempted to remove my patch and show her, but… she was already quite nervous. I did not want to make her more so, or frighten her so thoroughly that she will never warm to me.

What lay beneath his eyepatch that would frighten you so? You had heard many rumours. That his lost eye was nothing more than a pit of darkness. That he had replaced it with a jewel. That an ever-burning fire, fueled by his hatred and rage, burned within.

Despite the stories, you felt a twinge of shame and hurt that, despite his love for you, he did not trust you with seeing him truly bare. He thought you could be frightened away.

Somehow, that shame far overshadowed any curiosity or fear about what lay beneath the brown leather of his eyepatch.

I could already tell it wasn’t going to go how I wanted – she would not meet my eye. So, I offered to leave. I would not impose myself on her when she did not want me to. That is not how I want to start this. Or, start it again.

But she did want me to go! At least, that is what I thought she meant. I am not so sure anymore. She said something about my right to be there as her husband. At the time, I thought it was her shy way of asking me to stay. Now… I think she may have just been repeating something her mother or a Septa taught her.

There was another small patch of angry scribbles.

I’m so stupid! And hardly better than Aegon. No – she may not have been particularly enthusiastic, but I am sure if she genuinely did not want me there, she would have said so. And I would have obeyed. After all, she was quick to ask me to stop some of the other things I tried to do.

She did not like the kissing.

When I first mentioned that I would like to lie with her – which I foolishly reasoned was out of my desire for an heir instead of my desire for her – she simply laid on the bed like on our wedding night. But that is not what I want. I do not want this to simply be a union of duty! At least, not anymore. And I so wanted to kiss her.

So, I beckoned her to me, and she obeyed. My hopes that this would be different were still relatively high. I got closer, touched her face, and asked if I could kiss her.

And she asked, ‘Why?’

I swear that one little word hurt more than any pain I’ve felt in the training yard. Almost more than… well, not quite more than that. But close.

I could not think of any reason other than that she is my wife, and I love her and want more than anything to kiss her. I only told her the former and the latter, for I think if I told her I loved her, she would have been more afraid than if she had seen me without my patch. And the gods must be good, for she said yes.

Then I kissed her. I held her close, and I kissed her.

It was the most wonderful thing! She was soft and warm. And when I laced my hand through her hair, she made the most delightful sound! I could have just kissed her forever.

But then it was over. She shouted and pushed me away. It was… it was just after I tried to use my tongue. I don’t think she liked it.

She asked me why I ‘needed’ to kiss her. She must have disliked it very much.

I had no other explanation than what I had already offered. At least, none that I could tell her without sending her running from me forever. So I stopped and told her I did not need it – the first lie I’ve ever told her.

When she moved back to the bed, I could not help myself. I could not let us be in a marriage where we lie together out of nothing more than duty, fully clothed and anxious to get it over with. It was foolish, and I probably scared her with the request, but I asked her to remove her nightgown. She had already taken off her robe – a massive thing in her house colours that practically drowns her.

You allowed a brief kernel of anger to spark within you, enough for you to pick up your pen and write him another little message in your diary.

‘That robe is dear to me, thank you very much. What is it that makes you hate it so?’

There is nothing more beautiful in the world than her. She puts even the Maiden to shame. I would have been happy to stare at her, to take in that beauty until I had my fill – if I would ever get my fill.

She got on the bed and positioned herself exactly how she was on our wedding night. Not quite how I pictured it, but considering her hesitancy, I did not want to push her.

It took all my control to stop myself from kissing her again when I undressed and joined her. But I did. I also resisted doing anything more than just looking at her breasts.

I sat between her legs and stared at her. While I was more than ready to begin, she was not. At all. Of course, I knew I would have to prepare her, but I hoped she would have had at least some desire for me already.

I started with gentle touches, drawing circles on her thighs. She shivered a bit when I began, but she didn’t ask me to stop. From where I was sitting, I could tell she enjoyed it, even if she didn’t understand it. She did ask me to explain, and my answer was probably lacking – how does one explain why he was so inadequate? – but she gave a small nod when I promised that tonight would be better.

Then I finally touched her where I really wanted to and was delighted to find her… well, not as wet as I’d hoped, but it was an improvement upon our wedding night! I ran my fingers over her entrance, hoping to coax more wetness from her before I truly began. And when I looked at her again to ensure I wasn’t hurting her, she smiled at me!

Encouraged, I kept my fingers at her entrance, not venturing inside yet, but continuing my preparations there while I began to seek her pearl. As the books said, I only had to draw a straight line upward from her entrance to find it.

And, oh, when I found it! Her eyes snapped shut, her back arched off the bed, and the most glorious whine escaped her! It was everything I had imagined and more. Gods, I think I could have peaked just from watching her as I circled her pearl again and again, faster and faster.

But then, she asked me to stop – begged me to.

I thought I must have done something wrong, but she shook her head when I asked if it hurt. And when I asked if it felt good, she would not answer. She merely requested that I get on with what I needed to do and leave, for she was tired. This wound cut even deeper than before with the kissing.

I wanted to prepare her more – I was going to use my mouth on her. To show her how dearly I wish to please her, how much I want to worship and love her, if only she’d let me.

In anticipation of that act, I have been consulting Coryanne Wylde’s various accounts and expert critiques of the act in order to form the perfect strategy.

To begin, I would undress her, as I planned to do on our wedding night, laying gentle, nearly chaste kisses on each new bit of skin I revealed. Once she was bare, I would kiss her. Deeply. To give her a taste of what is to come. Then, I would kiss my way down. Her jaw, her throat, her collarbone, her breasts, and the plane of her stomach.

Once I made it past her navel, I would take her leg in my hand and begin a new trail of kisses upwards. The book says to start at the ankle, but I am too impatient for that – I will begin at the knee instead.

Just when she thought I was finally about to give her what she craved more than anything, I would once again change course to kiss her lips one final time. Then, I would descend.

I would start slowly, experimenting with different tactics to determine what drives her deliciously mad. Once I knew, I would feast. I would devour her like her pleasure was the air I needed to breathe. Like her cries of pleasure were beautiful music, and I would die if it ever stopped.

I would bring her to peak once with my mouth on her entrance. Again on her pearl. Then again and again in whichever way made her scream the loudest.

Only when she was so drunk with pleasure that she could no longer rise to meet my mouth or grasp at my hair would I relent. I would make my way back up to her mouth and soothe her with gentle kisses until she had regained herself and was begging for me to finally fuck her.

But I didn’t get to do any of that.

She asked me to stop, so I did. I pumped myself a little to ensure the disappointment hadn’t rendered me incapable of performing my duty and entered her.

The preparation did help. Entering her was easier, and she did not wince as much as the first time. And she felt even more heavenly somehow. The feeling was so intense that I had to take a moment to remind myself that she only wanted me to finish quickly so she would not have to endure me any longer.

So, I fucked her. I did not make love to her, as is my true desire. I just fucked her, like she was just any woman and not the love of my life.

And then, a miracle! I thrust into her, something about the angle allowing me in quite deep, and she reacted. She gasped, breathless, and her hips snapped up to meet mine. I froze in surprise and elation. I found her ‘sweet spot!’

But when I smiled at her, she turned away and refused to look at me again.

I just kept going. I did not try to hit that spot again, so as to not upset her further. I finished as quickly as I could and left the bed.

It was stupid of me, but I turned back to her after dressing. Everything had gone so horribly, but I still love her. I still need her. So I could not just leave her like that.

I asked if I could kiss her again. She let me. I was quick, as promised.

Then I came back here, once again alone and no closer to earning her love than I was before.

I must meet with my advisors again tomorrow. Perhaps they can help me understand why I keep fucking this up so badly when all I want is for her to let me love her the way I want to and for her to love me in return.

Your heart ached so severely that you thought there might be bruises when you looked down at your chest. But there was just skin – skin that Aemond would have happily kissed, had you let him.

As horrible and confusing as that night had been for you, it had been so tenfold for Aemond. He had wanted a grand, romantic evening, and you had greeted him with only coldness and suspicion.

He called you ‘the love of his life.’ You ran your finger over those words so many times that they became smudged, then went to write something in your diary but halted with your pen hovering over the paper.

What could you write to match what he’d said about you? Even if you could, would it really be true? How many times could you say, ‘I’m sorry?’

Well, at least one more time. ‘I’m so sorry, Aemond,’ you wrote, ‘I didn’t know, and I was still scared. Not of you, but of what I thought my life was to be. If you had only told me… I do not blame you, I swear. I just wish the both of us had been more honest with each other.’

You were far too exhausted to continue. It was not yet midafternoon, and you had already been from the near-heights of carnal pleasure to the depths of your despair that the unfortunate state of your marriage was, in actuality, mostly your fault.

So, after setting Aemond’s diary aside, you picked up your embroidery basket and began to work while your mind wandered.

It was only when your maids arrived to bring you dinner that you realised that, somehow, the dog roses you intended to make had become a sprawling wisteria vine.

You dreamed of the castle garden in late spring when all the flowers were in bloom. As you walked down the garden path, you saw every colour imaginable amongst the vibrant greens. But there was only one flower you really wanted to see – and the man you knew would be waiting for you beneath them.

Just as the first purple tendrils came into view, the dream faded, and you woke to see the first hints of dawn still beneath the horizon.

Drawing your blankets over your head, you squeezed your eyes shut and stubbornly tried to fall back asleep and return to your dream – to no avail. You were well and truly awake. And it would be some time before your maids came to dress you for the day.

So, dragging the blanket from your bed with you, you trudged back into your solar and settled into the couch before picking up Aemond’s diary again.

The 27th day in the 5th moon of the year

I met with Lord Wylde, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Aegon this morning. They had advice, but it was not as… straightforward as I had hoped. There is no simple trick to get her to love me. Nothing I can study from a book and then implement with assured success.

I have to woo her. I have to be witty and pleasant and charming and… romantic.

I do not think this is going to work.

Especially not after my first attempt was so disastrous.

Lord Wylde asked that I tell him about her, so I did. When he learned she enjoys reading as much as I do, he suggested I try to find common ground there. So, I went to try and find her in the library.

She was exactly where she was the last time I saw her there, still reading “The Last Dragonlords.” I watched her for a moment, savouring the look of contentment on her face as she read, as well as a few quick reactions to the book. How I love it when her nose scrunches in displeasure!

‘That is quite the odd thing to fixate on,’ you wrote in your diary. It seemed a decent night’s sleep had helped recover some of your humour. ‘What is it, in particular, that you like about my scrunched nose?’

She did smile at me when I approached, but I think she thought I was a Maester, for her smile faltered when I greeted her. And she was so shy. Usually, when I struggle to find the right words, she breaks the silence. Today, she did not.

At least it gave me time to remember why I came to the library. She was still reading “The Last Dragonlords,” so I told her it was my favourite and asked if I could join her. I think she was somewhat embarrassed about reading a children’s book, but I assured her it was no matter and that I would nonetheless enjoy reading it with her, and she allowed me to sit with her.

My plan was to sit with her, discuss the histories, and perhaps, in time, hold her hand as a first step toward genuine affection. But the plan quickly went awry.

It all happened so fast that I don’t even remember exactly what I said. But somehow, I insinuated that she was not intelligent enough to understand the book. The book meant for children – young children.

She was very upset with me. Rightfully so! Still upset enough that she stormed out of the library after making several cutting remarks that proved that she is, in fact, quite intelligent.

After several minutes and a brief reprimand from one of the Maesters, I finally gathered myself enough to realise that she had left the book there. As well as several pages of notes.

Of course, the noble thing would have been to not look and ask a servant to return them to her. But in that moment, I was desperate, not noble. So, I looked.

Her notes were beautifully organised and remarkably thorough – the work of a true scholar! She even crafted a beautiful family tree all the way through Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. Had I not fumbled our initial interaction so entirely, we would have had a wonderful discussion.

You had feared him finding the notes, but you had never considered that he would be impressed rather than arrogantly amused. It made sense now that you knew his true nature. Perhaps, once whatever was between you was resolved, you could have that discussion.

In all honesty, there were a few questions you had that you hoped he would be able to answer. Not least of which being why in more than a thousand years, Targaryens had only come up with a dozen names that they repeated over and over again. You wrote as much in your diary.

It was useless for me to sulk in the library, agonising over what I should have said, so I gathered the book and her notes and left the library.

An apology was more than necessary, so I went to Aegon’s rooms. After all, there is perhaps no one with more experience apologising to women. Even if his apologies are self-serving.

When I arrived, I found Mother had already found Aegon first, and was well into another tirade about his behaviour. Normally, I would be happy to watch Mother yelling at him, but I did not feel I had time to. And Aegon was glad that I granted him a reprieve.

Admittedly, I had not wanted to admit to Mother that my wife and I were… not as close as I wanted. But, as she always is, she was eminently understanding, and far more helpful than Aegon was. His only suggestion was to bring her something nice – jewels, silks, or the like.

On the other hand, Mother gave me sage advice on what to say when I go to her. As my words have been my primary point of failure, I was very grateful for this. She did also say that a gift would not be amiss. An ‘offering of peace,’ she called it. But she advised something personal, not luxurious. If the gift is too valuable, she says, it will seem as if I am trying to buy her forgiveness rather than earn it.

I knew immediately what I should get her. I thanked Mother (and Aegon) and left at once for the gardens.

I found them – the flowers she loves so dearly. Dog roses, they are called. Unfortunately, they do not grow well in our climate, but the Maester’s managed to coax a few to bloom with their various potions and other horticultural creations.

They are almost as beautiful as her.

The Maester I spoke to said that it would be best if I had them cut just before I brought them to her, to preserve their beauty. So that is what I will do.

I will not practice tonight. At least… not that kind of practice. Instead, I will rehearse my apology. I cannot fail tomorrow.

You winced slightly, knowing that the next day would not go as Aemond planned and feeling as though it was your fault. But there was no changing that now. And you had already apologised – often and profusely.

So, you wrote only a simple note: ‘I don’t recall seeing dog roses on our tour of the gardens. Did you pluck them all?’

Looking back at his diary, you took a deep, steadying breath. Only two ribbons left.

The 28th day in the 5th moon of the year

I am the stupidest, most idiotic man in all the seven fucking kingdoms.

All I was trying to do was apologise to her for my unkind – though unintentionally so! – words in the library, but somehow it ended with her crying and me fleeing from her chambers yet again.

You cringed at the memory, almost not wanting to read on.

Aegon gladly offered his explanation, even after I told him I did not want it. He insists that I have so thoroughly repulsed her that she cannot help but burst into tears at the sight of me.

Mother thinks that she is just missing her family and her home, as she said. That she is overwhelmed by being alone in a strange place, and the familiar sight of the flowers – dog roses, as I have learned – brought those feelings to bursting.

Perhaps Mother is right. But her parents left a fortnight ago, and she has shown no other signs of homesickness. And she is not alone! She has the other ladies of the court to talk to, and Helaena and Mother adore her. And me.

If she came to me, I would do anything to cheer her. Not that she would seek comfort from me, no matter how dearly I wish she would. She certainly won’t after today.

After the disaster in the library yesterday and the scolding I received from Grand Maester Orwyle after my training this morning, I knew beyond a doubt that I needed to apologise. I… the shame I feel for having played any part in the state Orwyle described her in is unbearable.

So, I went to the gardens and had a Maester cut the flowers for me and arrange them in a simple bouquet.

She was on her couch when I arrived in her rooms – still in her nightgown and that robe. And again, she did not look at me. She had eyes only for the flowers. I thought then that they had been the right choice.

I apologised, but she did not react. She still just stared at the bouquet. So, I went ahead with the rest of my apology.

Then she touched my hand. It startled me, and I pulled away from her on instinct, dropping the bouquet in her lap. She looked at them like I had dropped a helpless kitten rather than flowers!

And she started crying. Softly, the tears welling in her eyes for a long moment before spilling over. I do not understand what I did to upset her. I said only what I had planned last night. It was so hard to resist brushing the tears away, but she seemed nearly volatile, and I did not want to make things worse.

‘I miss home,’ she said, finally.

It did sting that she does not consider King’s Landing and her life with me her home – it still does. But she is hundreds of miles away from the family of her birth, from the people who have undoubtedly treated her better than I have. I cannot blame her.

I apologised again for upsetting her and left.

At dinner, I had planned to ask Mother and Grandsire if we could find a way to send her home, at least for a little while. So she could be happy. Perhaps I could even go with her. I might have an easier time talking to her without the pressures of my family and the capital upon me.

You smiled at the thought of Aemond at your home keep. Of him in all his black leather among the fields of dog roses. Talking with your father in the library. Him training with your brothers – you were confident he could defeat any one of them alone, but knowing your brothers, they would absolutely gang up on him.

‘One day,’ you wrote, ‘I would love to show you my home.’

I was waiting for the opportunity to ask when she arrived! After this afternoon, I did not think she would come to dinner, but she did! I could have wept for my relief.

And when I offered my hand to her, she took it. Not only that, but she squeezed it – hard. I think believe it was her way of accepting my apology.

She did not speak during dinner, nor did anyone ask her too many questions. Aegon was his typically infuriating self, silently encouraging me to do something with her. What he expects me to do when in front of the entire family, I do not know.

After the meal, I offered to escort her back to her chambers, which she accepted. And once we were alone, she thanked me for the flowers!

It was going unusually well. That is, until I decided to open my mouth. I only meant to compliment her, as she did look quite beautiful, but… I just kept talking. And then I had suddenly insulted her gown from yesterday and her robe.

She closed herself off from me then, shoving away my arm. Why could I not just shut up? I know my words are the source of so many of our misunderstandings, yet I keep talking! At this point, I am strongly considering a vow of silence.

‘Please don’t take a vow of silence!’ you wrote, scrambling for your diary as if it mattered how quickly you got the words down. ‘Your voice is far too lovely for me to never hear it again.’

Tomorrow, I am going to try a suggestion from Lord Wylde. Show her that I am not a failure in everything I do. I pray it works.

You turned the page, expecting to find the entry for the next day, but there was none. There had been a page between the entries for the 28th and the 30th, but it had been sloppily torn out. All that remained was the beginnings of the date in the upper corner.

It was entirely against what you knew of Aemond. The man who had dutifully started his journal on the first day of the year and began each entry on a new page would not do something like this.

What had upset him so? Had you said something to him?

No, of course not. The only time you had seen him that day was in the training yard, and you hadn’t spoken to each other, not after… not after he stormed off. Had he actually been hurt in his fight with the Kingsguard? Or was he just embarrassed that you had witnessed him fall?

Gods, how you wished you had gone to him that night. But perhaps you could make up for it now.

‘After you were absent for dinner,’ you wrote to him in your diary, ‘I almost came to your rooms. I was worried for you. Though I confess, that was the only reason I found myself walking toward you… I missed you, at dinner. I missed you helping me into my chair. I missed your smile. I missed the way you’d hold the plates for me. Most of all, I missed your voice, and your presence next to me.’

You sniffled slightly, staring at a lamp on your wall to dry the tears that were forming before finishing the entry, ‘I’ve missed you these past days, as well. But I’m almost done. I’ll see you soon.’

The 30th day in the 5th moon of the year

I have made my gravest sin yet. And my most foolish.

We had the perfect morning together in the gardens. Silent, mostly, but perfect. She smiled at me! She allowed me to lead her through the gardens on my arm. It was… precisely what I had hoped for.

Until I once again acted like an absolute fucking fool.

Before I had to leave for court, I asked if I could come to her rooms that night. And for one perfect moment, I really believed she was going to say yes.

But then she mentioned her moon’s blood, and I just… panicked. I am not entirely an idiot (though I become less sure of that declaration with each passing moment), I know what that means.

It means that I’ve failed her. In even more ways than I knew.

I have made her miserable. I have made her cry. I have failed in every duty of a good husband, including the most basic of tasks – I have not given her a child.

I cannot go on like this – trapped in an endless cycle of misery where I can do nothing but hurt the both of us. I must do something to free us from this.

It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t love or even like me. I just want her to be happy. If that means that I never get to see her or love her again, I will make myself accept that.

First, she needs to know why I’ve acted this way. To know my true feelings so she can decide what she wants me to do. Gods, if she wanted me to go to Essos and never return, I would.

A blot of ink covered half the page, as though he had simply set his pen down while he thought.

I know what to do. I just pray she understands.

“I understand,” you said aloud, as though Aemond were before you. But, of course, he wasn’t. He was halfway across the castle, a distance that suddenly felt like the Narrow Sea itself. Throwing down your blanket, you shouted for your maids to dress you at once, your morning meal be damned. The moment finished tying off the last lace of your gown, you ran.

You had only been shown where Aemond’s chambers were once – on your first tour of the Holdfast. Then, you did not know whether to be disappointed or thankful that they were far from yours. Now, as your nervousness flooded through every part of your body, you hated the distance more than anything.

Each step was an effort, as with every one, your legs felt heavier and heavier, as if they were made of iron. Your blood felt as though it was rushing dangerously fast, carrying with it a marked chill. Despite feeling frozen within, sweat still somehow beaded at your brow. Yet you could not wipe it away, for your hands were all but stitched to the two diaries you carried.

Was this a terrible idea? Would Aemond laugh at you for all your silly little notes? Would he be angry with you for taking days to fulfil his request? You came to a halt in the middle of the corridor, tears prickling in your eyes as you considered so many horrible possibilities.

No, you thought, the word echoed by the impact of your foot on stone as you took a heavy, sure step forward.

The Aemond you thought you knew would do those things. But that Aemond wasn’t real – and never was. He had only ever lived in your terrified imagination.

The real Aemond was the one who had been so awestruck upon first seeing you that he could not say anything other than your name. Who had fallen for you so quickly and with such intensity that he forgot how to act like a proper person and instead stumbled over his words and actions like a drunk man through a crowded alley. Who had been so desperate for you to return his affections that he swallowed his pride to seek help. And who had finally given you his diary when he could think of no other way to show you how he really felt and who he truly was.

It was the thought of finally meeting that Aemond that made you put one foot in front of the other, faster and faster, until you were sprinting down the halls, only stopping when you came to the door you had seen only once before – his door.

You did not understand how you had found it again after only seeing it only once before. Nor did you remember knocking on the smooth, dark wood.

But then you heard footsteps approaching.

Hastily, you transferred the diaries to one hand and wiped the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of the other. You wanted to straighten your hair, for it had surely come loose from its braid after running so fast. But there was no time for that.

There was the dull, metallic sound of the door being unlatched, and then there he was.

Aemond stood before you, breathing heavily himself as though he, too, had been running. His silver hair was mussed, and there were smudges of purple beneath his widened eyes – his eyes.

He was not wearing his eyepatch.

Your mouth fell open at the sight. At least one of the rumours had been true. Beneath the raised, rough skin of his scar, in place of his lost eye, was a brilliant blue sapphire. It suited him perfectly and was perhaps the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

He looked at you for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting in a hesitant smile before realising what had caught your attention so thoroughly.

“Oh gods,” he whispered, covering the sapphire with his hands and turning away. He took a few steps into the room before speaking again. “I did not mean for you to see this. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please…”

You said nothing. Silently, you moved into the room and shut the door. Aemond stared at you, his good eye watering as you approached him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “You should not have had to – ” He startled when you brought your free hand up to his wrist and started trying to tug his hand away from his face. “What are you…?”

When your only response was to continue tugging, he relented, allowing you to lower his hand. He swallowed thickly, fixing his good eye on the wall behind you instead of at you. Seeing his shyness, and now knowing it for what it was, almost made you smile.

But your own shyness took hold of you as you guided his hand down and wrapped it around the spines of the twin journals you held. When you looked back up at Aemond, he was staring at them and the green ribbon that now marked a page within your diary.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, tightening his hold on the books.

With a slight smirk, you gazed up at him and dropped your hand from the diaries. “It’s your turn.”

1K notes · View notes

bagdaddyb · 7 months

Text

We Should of Been Alt Ending

Pairing: Omega fem!reader x Alpha! Natasha

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI NSFW Angst. No happy ending for Natasha. Implied black reader but no characteristics ever described.

AN: This is what I originally envisioned for the previous request.

Original request

You were so beautiful. That's all Natasha could think everytime she saw you. Previous to your pressence she'd never even given an omega a second glance the desire to mate assumed to be trained out of her by the red room. But when Sam brought you to the compound one day everything changed. The visit was harmless you were an upcoming nuclear scientist with the dream of one day meeting and working with Bruce Banner and Sam was a cocky man out to claim the title of best cousin ever. You hadn't wasted time being star struck by the compound or the Avengers within walking through the building as if it was any other office. You didn't stop to greet the team only pausing a moment to hypothesize about Jarvis. Natasha's sure if she hadn't needed to deliver a paper to the lab she'd never even laid eyes on you, and what a crime that'd of been. Crossing the threshold she froze momentarily, your pressence not only a surprise but a distraction. Her eyes stuck on you taking in your features, your voice, your smile. Natasha couldn't remember the last time she felt heat in her cheeks or a nervous turn in her stomach. After she approached interrupting your conversation as politely as she could you merely smiled and said hello before turning back to the matter at hand. The warmth in her cheeks turned into a burn and her usually steady hands became clamy. Not long after you left that day Natasha couldn't hide her curiosity finding her way back down to the lab to ask Bruce just who you were exactly. It was a week before Natasha saw you again. You'd returned for Banner's opinions on your project having changed things according to his previous suggestions. You walked out of the elevator like you owned the building passing by the Alpha without even a second glance. Her eyes were glued to you warmth coming on in her cheeks as she watched you pass.

"Nat... Natasha!"

Clint yelled as Natasha's water began to overflowed onto the table in front of her. Snapping out of her trance she cursed under her breath moving to quickly clean up the area. She wants to meet you, needs too. Pacing the common room she the next day she contemplated how to approach you. Wondered what she should and would say in your presence. Would you even want to talk to her? Even give her the time?

"Excuse me."

Your familiar voice made Natasha freeze in her tracks. Her eyes glanced around the empty room before turning towards the noise. You stood there with a soft smile on your lips papers in hand and purse still on your shoulder. Warmth covered her face as she took you in and suddenly she was a nervous wreck.

"Y-yes *ehm* Yes ma'am, how can I help you?"

You smiled a little wider at her.

"No need for the ma'am, my name's (Y/N) I was wondering if I could get your help with something. I need not only a fresh perspective but also a guinea pig of sorts and Dr. Banner referred me to you."

She could kiss Bruce.

"Yes of course, what's the project?"

You laughed lightly visibly surprised by her answer.

"Wow I've never seen someone so eager to help another they don't even know. I honestly expected resistance considering the stories I've heard from my cousin but I'll chock that up to him being the head strong handful he is."

Natasha's blush deepened at how deep her crush is being thrown blatantly in her face.

"I am developing an anti-radiation suit that will absorb natural radiation in the air or body filter out the good and infuse the bad into a sort of blaster for the wearer. Dr. Banner mentioned that the design was something close to your widow bites so I was wondering if you'd take a look?"

While the question was more or less out of her grasp with Bruce and Tony having taken on the majority of her suit and weapon production Natasha still agreed unable to give up this opportunity to get to know you.

"Sure."

Over the next few months Natasha's first time crush grew to pure adoration. You were everything to the Alpha and the only person who didn't seem to know it was you. It was a simple Wednesday morning after lab runs on the suit. Natasha tried out the blaster and pretended to help with the calibration. Gripping her coat tightly due to nerves she turned back to you on her way out.

"Hey (Y/N) I know a great coffee place down the street, would you like to grab a cup with me?"

You looked up from your computer meeting soft eyes.

"I'd hate to take up more of your day than I already have. You go have a great time I promise the suit is almost done then you'll be free of my pestering."

Natasha fought back a grimace at your rejection. Again. Was she doing it wrong? She was sure she'd paid close attention to all of Clints advice.

"Have a great rest of your day then."

With that the red head turned and left retreating to the compound. Once there she immediately sought out Clint not knowing what else to do.

"I just don't get it. Am I asking wrong?"

The older alpha couldn't help the smile and soft chuckle as he watched the younger one pace. Thinking back to his younger days.

"No, a girl like (Y/N) is so caught up in her work she can miss the simple things right in front of her."

"Its true."

Sam tuned in from the kitchen, even he was feeling bad for the alpha.

"I bet (Y/N) doesn't even realize you're into her."

The red head let out a frustrated huff hands gripping her hair. Forget all this advice and subtly. Next week she was going to be blunt with you. While the red head was determined to make your next interaction work your cousin was not inclined to wait as long. The next day Sam strolled into your office unannounced not even knocking on the large door before entering despite the risk.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure?"

You said clearly displeazed with his abrupt entrance.

"I'm here to point out the obvious to the smartest girl I know."

That made you giggle turning to give him your full attention you cross your arms.

"And what might that be?"

"That a certain alpha who works with you once a week as your lab assistant is crushing on you something aweful."

You laughed audibly this time.

"Natasha? You're kidding. She only sees me as a colleague."

"She has asked you out; and I mean this literally, eight times. She asked you out yesterday for crying out loud. How can someone so smart be so oblivious?"

"No she...."

You pause truly thinking back on the moments Natasha'd invited you places. Remembering her nervous posture. Her let down face at your same response. Remembering how everytime your fingers brushed she blushed or how everytime you smiled at her she stared. She'd always been eager to help you with your project even from the beginning. Thinking on it even then she'd been a blushing mess right in front of you. Your eyes widen in sudden realization.

"Finally."

Sam announces as you raise your hand to cover your dropped jaw.

"Oh my gosh."

"Exactly."

Sam said and suddenly you felt a wave of anxiety wash over you.

"I never thought..... How could I of been...... And she always asked......"

You let go of a sigh rubbing your temples before standing abruptly.

"I have to go see her. She's such a sweetheart and I've been unknowingly rejecting her time and time again. I'm such a dope."

"You said it cousin."

You frown punching him in the arm causing him to flinch.

"Hey what the-"

"Just because I said it doesn't mean you agree dumbass."

The two of you continue to bicker like the siblings you basically were the entire ride to the compound. Your walk to the common room is quick asking Jarvis to summon Natasha to the area politely you think of what you should say. You feel heat in your cheeks due to pure embarrassment shaking your head at yourself.

"Hey (Y/N)."

Natasha's surprised voice rings in your ear and you turn and smile at her.

"Hey Natasha. Listen I want to start off by apologizing. For all my knowledge in science I can't seem to match it in social skills. Believe it or not I've been completely oblivious to your advances until just now I truly thought you only saw me as a co-worker but.... if that offer for coffee is still up in the air, I'd love to go out with you."

Natasha's whole face was on fire after your little speech. Unable to form words she quickly nodded before clearing her throat.

"Of course let me grab my coat."

It's only your sixth date when you go into heat. Natasha was the best. Caring, attentive, patient maybe that's what made you go into your heat a week early or maybe it was the ways her muscles flexed as she pulled herself out of the pool infront of you bending over your body to grab a towel from your shared stack causing your eyes to roam while you locked your bottom lip between your teeth but either way telltale signs of your heat began to flood your body. By the following day you'd fully succumbed keeping it to yourself in an attempt not to rush your new alpha you locked youself in your apartment letting your boss know before tossing and turning in your own bed. Natasha was happy no she was extatic, elated, floating. Words couldn't descibe how happy she's been this past month with you. She'd always imagined what it'd be like to have you as her partner but the reality of it was so much better. Pulling up to your lab with a budle of red roses riding the euphoria she's been feeling for days she couldn't believe how excited she was to see you. Smiling softly to herself as she made her way into the building she wasn't allowed to get far stopped quickly by the kind beta at the front desk.

"Ms. Romonoff! I'm sorry Dr. (Y/L/N) isn't in today."

An eyebrow rose on the Alpha but she nodded thanking the beta all the same. You hadn't mentioned you wouldn't be in, you were always in your lab. Beginning to worry she quickly dialed Bruce who luckily answered after only two rings.

"Hello?"

"Do you have a meeting today with (Y/N)?"

"No our meetings are usually Thursday but she actually just called this morning and cancelled this week."

"Thanks."

Now Natasha was panicking. If she'd been using her logical brain she probably would of been able to piece together why you suddenly weren't at work and cancelled on Bruce only this week. But she wasn't, the first person she's cared for on a deeper level since the red room suddenly disappearing only caused huge red flags to pop up in Natasha's mind. Rushing to your apartment that she shouldn't even know the location of she couldn't help the way her leg jumped nervously and how her hands uncomfortablly gripped the steering wheel.

Please be ok. Please be ok.

Natasha wasn't going to let anything happen to you, she couldn't. When she arrived at your apartment she didn't even bother with the flowers ignoring the elevator to take the steps two at a time. She made it to the fourth floor in record time heart bumping and short breaths coming out of her quickly. Drawing her weapon she knocked on the door three times before beginning a count down in her mind.

5....4....3....2....

You cracked open your door slowly, not expecting visitors and honestly not in a state for small talk. Your eyes doubled in size when you saw the red head on the other side while Natasha let go the loudest sigh of relief you've ever heard. Pushing past your door with ease she invites herself in wrapping you in a tight hug that clouded your thoughts entirely.

"I'm so glad your okay. I wanted to surprise you at work but you weren't there and Bruce told me you cancelled this week I thought the worst."

You weren't exactly sure what she meant by that but you didn't care your alpha was here. You took a deep breath in of her scent eyes dialating at the smell. Arms coming up to hold her close hand slipping into her hair. You wanted her, needed her.

"For someone so smart it's hard to believe you couldn't come up with a logical solution as to why me. An omega. Cancelled her plans for a week."

Suddenly Natasha noticed your strong scent in the apartment, your near naked appreance, the whimpers you kept letting go in her ear.

"I didn't say anything because I didn't want to rush this but you came to me anyway alpha."

Red flushed Natasha's cheeks as she began to strain against her pants. For a moment she felt stupid so easily pushed into a state of panic but that moment faded as your nails lightly scratched at her scalp pulling her attention back to you.

"My alpha."

Its was a whisper one you let go into her neck but a trigger for Natasha all the same. She needed you, wanted you, had to have you. You were hers and hers alone.

"My omega."

Natasha whispered back placing her nose against your scent gland as she kickes the door shut behind her. Something primal inside Natasha ached for you, she needed you closer. Her roaming hands gripped at you as yours did the same.

"Alpha. Alpha. Alpha."

You whisper taking in her pressence her feel. You've never had an alpha this close during your heat. Honestly you hadn't even considered this a moment that would happen to you. Never thought you'd find a mate like all your friends and family had.

"Mine."

Was all Natasha could respond. She backed you into your couch not romantic but in your collective states neither of you cared. You aren't sure how either of you stripped but you were aware of the drug like euphoria Natasha's skin on yours was giving you. Your hands couldn't stop moving rubbing, touching, and squeezing at every piece of Natasha you could reach. Natasha returned your touches in kind her soft lips pressing against every part of your body before pressing into your own. The kiss was feverish, needy. The contact was enough to make you moan into her mouth causing her length to harden painfully. Your body began to lift against Natasha's in search of friction.

"More."

You weren't sure what you wanted, what you needed more of. You just knew there was something missing.

"My beautiful little omega."

Natasha whispered against your lips moaning out as she began to run her member through your slick.

"Gonna make you my gorgeous mate, gonna fill you with my pup."

You nodded in eager response, nothing had ever seemed more right than this moment.

"Please."

Natasha begins to enter you slowly. Stretching you out in a way none of your dildos ever have. You moan loudly tightly grabbing the back of the red heads neck and pulling her into a seering kiss one she returns eagerly. The moment is all heat and skin. Natasha's hips pound into you on their own accord. Your eyes roll back signalling your first release but it isn't enough for Natasha. She continues her pace like a woman possessed and before you can comprehend your cumming again almost violently.

"Yes omega just like that."

Natasha takes you in, your gorgeous face, stomach full of her. She's going to make you a mother fill you with her pup. Her mate all hers. You feel the heat before you see her face. Natasha's release pushes you into a third of your own.

"My alpha."

You whisper again.

.......

The days that follow as Natasha falls out of her ruts haze she begins to doubt. Sitting on the quinjet on the way to Siberia she can't help but wonder if she's actually ready for this, even deserves it. She has red in her ledger, alot of it and a few months ago she wouldn't of even considered mating. With anyone. How could she be a mother? How could she be a mate? How could she be what you deserved? The week in the cold did nothing but push her further away from you taking her back to her days in the red room which then took her back to her dark past. She couldn't do this. Not with you, you would never live a full life, constantly on the move never safe never happy. You deserve more, more than Natasha can give you. Three weeks later upon her return you await with others on the landing pad. So excited you can't help but bounce the positive pregnancy test burning a whole in your pocket. You were nervous this was the first time you'd see your alpha since your heat and with big news as well but you shouldn't be she was your alpha. Yours. As the quinjet landed your heartbeat quickened to an alarming pace. You bounced on your toes eyes eagerly searching for the soft ones you'd come to dream of. Instead you were greeted by a different alpha though physically the same her body language was different she looked cut off, not meeting your eye. Her exterior seemed hardened. You approached her cautiously, you'd never been here after a mission not even for Sam but you were sure the emotional tole had to be high.

"Welcome back."

Your soft voice sent pain through Natasha. You being here meant what she was about to do was truly about to happen.

"I..."

"(Y/N) listen....."

In an instant you shut down. You should of known better.

"What happened the other night was a mistake. I was distracted by my rut and..."

You grip the pregnancy test in your pocket so tight you're surprised it doesn't break.

"No need to finish. I get it, I should of known better."

You say before walking off. You kept your head held high refusing to let Natasha see the tears you so badly wanted to let go. Your words only cut Natasha depper than her own already were. What had she just done?

.........

Four Years Later

Natasha tied her long red hair back in a loose ponytail as she walked out of her trailer saying a passing goodbye to her cat. The drive into town was long her dark thoughts able to creep up as the time passed on. Exiting her car she entered the grocery store. The trip being a necessity otherwise she wouldn't of bothered leaving her safe house. She went up and down the isles grabbing canned foods for both her and her cat. Items that were long lasting so that another trip like this wouldn't have to happen for months. As her eyes scanned the cans of beans the excited ramblings of a small girl another isle over caught her attention.

"Mommy mommy, can we get this?"

"Mmmh I don't know baby does this match?"

Natasha's ears perked as she heard the one voice she lost hope of ever hearing again. Quickly pushing her cart foreward she moved to the end of the isle to peek around. Could it really be you? Sure enough there you were a small girl in the cart in front of you as you looked at baby items. You glowed as you spoke to the child your familiar gorgeous smile overtaking your face.

"I think I like this one better."

You say to the girl as you hold up a blue cup.

"But dis ones pink."

You giggle at the girl as she pleads her case.

"Don't you think Isaiah would like blue to match his pacifier?"

"No."

You laugh audibly at that and Natasha feels her heart skip a beat.

"Okay baby, we'll get him the pink one."

As Natasha goes to push her cart foreward if only to talk to you one more time another alpha comes around the corner behind you approaching you with an infant.

"Alright I've brought back my clean baby for my pregnant baby."

You smile at the alpha behind you turning to greet them in a kiss before taking the small boy from the alphas arms.

"Mommy I want to see Isaiah!"

You hum as you come around the cart allowing Natasha to take note of your pregnant belly as you bend to let your toddler see your infant.

"He's so pretty mommy."

You kiss the girls head before nodding in agreement.

"Yes he is."

"What about me Avery am I pretty?"

You laugh at your partners antics as the toddler turns her attention to the alpha.

"No."

You visibly hold back your laugh as you come back around the cart to your alphas side rubbing their back lovingly.

"You're pretty to me love."

Your alphas displeased face quickly morphs into one of content as they meet your lips in a soft kiss.

"Thank you baby."

With that Natasha watches as you turn to leave with the family she could of had and the happiness she wishes she could feel. Wiping tears she didn't deserve to let fall she returns to her own shopping the question of what could of been haunting her today just as it'd done the last four years.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romonoff x y/n #bagdaddyb #alpha natasha #omega reader #abo

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rorichuu · 9 months

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raaah! i love your acc layout /gen omg >:O !!

anyway, if it’s not too much to ask for could i request sniper x fem(or gn) reader who’s basically miss paulings assistant? (lol the asisstants-asisstant), like miss pauling is out of work one day and reader takes her place ^^

thanks sm! it can be hc’s, or a fic or like, whatever u want basically cuz i think it’s a pretty complicated req :’) it’s 100% okay if you can’t complete the req/don’t feel comfortable doing so :D

close eye — sniper x assistant!reader

pairing: sniper x fem!reader

authors note: omg hello! and thank you so much! :D this is such a fun request, i seriously loved writing this! also omg this might be a bit jumbled cuz it's 2:51 AM heheh so please bear with me :) — thank you for the request, friend!

disclaimer: none besides the use of sniper's real name (mick, mundy, etc.)! enjoy!

when you were introduced by miss pauling right before she had to leave was pretty brief.

she's a busy woman! and you accepted the temporary position happily!

but as you greeted everyone, one man stayed behind; observing.

as curious as you were, you tried to advance, but was sorely interrupted by a chatty scout.

as politely as you could, you tried to pry from the conversation, only to find the tall new zealander to be far gone.

with a defeated huff, you began the day as you previously intended.

honestly, this man is kinda nervous around you in some sorts.

he probably hasn't interacted with a woman outside of miss pauling (merely because of his job, he's obviously greeted women before)

but as much as he had thought of coming up to you, he always kinda of scurried away before you could catch sight of him

a little nervous and very skeptical...

The horrid sun beat down on your skin as you frustratingly looked through the papers clipped on Miss Pauling's board. You were biting your lip in concentration to finally catch what you were looking for. "Aha!" You exclaim in victory. You look up, eyes immediately squinting at your forgetfulness. You held the clipboard with one hand as the other lifted to your forehead to dismiss the sun the best you could, to finally catch sight of Sniper's van. "Can't hide from me..." You whisper to yourself before you march over.

You come to a stop at the van door, lifting your hand to raise a loud knocking sound to catch his attention. You waited patiently before hearing the sound of his boots hitting against the paved wood. You were then greeted by the man's presence. His eyebrows furrowed, lips forming a thin line in observation of your awaiting figure. His red sleeves were rolled up, one hand on the door handle, the other on the door frame. Sniper leaned out, his figure shadowing yours as he waited expectantly. "Yes?" His voice spoke low, informing you he had possibly just woken up from a nap.

You caught yourself staring, cheeks flushed red at his ruffled hair and button-down shirt. (Although, it could very well be the heat...) You clear your throat. "Yes! I know we haven't properly met... but I have a job that requires you," You said, noticing the man sending you a curt nod. "Uhm, right. And, of course, these are all confirmed by Miss Pauling! I'm simply her messenger and advisor for the day." You happily said, lifting the mood as the man took in your words. With a small acknowledged hum, his arm begun to pull back; and the door then closed.

"Sure, mate." Bam.

? ? ?

"What?" You muttered out, stepping back a bit before looking around rapidly. What just happened!? "M-Mr. Mundy! I haven't even explained what the job pertains to!" You tried to reason, but as time slowly started to slip by, he gave you zero sign that he was interested.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀. 3 hours after y/n's introductions .

Sniper held his gun close as he observed you quietly. With one eye shut and the other following you.

Sniper was admittedly suspicious.

Of course, Miss Pauling had directly introduced you to everyone... but occasions like this were rare. So he did what no other merc even considered doing.

He observed your every move.

Sniper's lip curled in a small scowl, ripping away from his scope as he noticed you chatting away with Medic over some job, he was sure. Now listen, Sniper wasn't trying to find some dirt on you, he was just cautious. He had to be! That's what part of his job entailed! But your bubbly presence made it hard to suspect you. Desperately, he tried to let it go. But he couldn't help but have his mind think about just you.

Why couldn't he stop thinking about you?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀. the present .

"Mister Mundy, if you don't take this job, Miss Pauling will be quite upset with the both of us! God forbid the administrator gets involved... Ugh, Sniper get out here right now!" Of course, this didn't work. Sniper was snickering in his van as he leaned against his seat near the door. His arms were crossed and one leg lay limp on his knee. Mick wore a cocky smile that left you raising your hand and bickering with a shut door, this was quite entertaining.

You huff, hand resting on the top of your head now as you admit defeat. The sun began to drunken your mind as you swayed slightly, leaning against the vehicle, you began to fan yourself with the clipboard. You just accepted the fact you may get in trouble with this.

... Slowly, time passed, it had been a short minute that Sniper began to grow suspicious of the sudden quietness that lurked outside his door. He then heard a small thump and a sliding noise erupt from beyond the wall he sat against. He began to stand, hand now wrapped against the handle as he leaned outside to find the sun taking it's unruly toll on you. "Mind if I come in?"

"Yeah yeah, don't kill yourself out here, mate..."

While his thick accent invited you in, begrudgingly, you nearly ran inside with how fast you wanted to escape the unforgiving heat. He looked over his shoulder to find you faced directly in front of his fan, watching you slump thankfully against the breeze. He scoffed, grabbing two mugs to start a new coffee pot.

"The job," this had caught your attention immediately. "Tell me about it." With a low rumble of his voice, you found yourself watching his back as he grabbed coffee beans and his small machine... which lay in the back of his remote kitchen. Your eyes lit up in clear relief.

"Mhm, right, of course," You cleared your throat, remaining professional the best you could. "There's obvious suspicion up in Teufort... you and the others are needed to scope the enemy in hopes of eliminating any future advances." You snicker. Sniper turns around.

"Was that... a pun?"

"Perhaps."

"Cripes..." Sniper's lips fall into a small smile, turning back to aid to the coffee before walking back over. "Drink." He replies shortly, hand out while he offers the hot coffee. You take it before he leans back and sits right where he was before. You take it graciously after you thank him.

The van keeps quiet for a while, a comfortable silence as you made some notes and read the rest of Miss Pauling's clipboard. "You done then?" Your ears twitch at the sudden sound, you take a second to respond.

"Pardon?" You turn, facing him as your eyes follow up to his. He's looking down at his mug before maintaining eye-contact with you.

"After this. You're gone?" This time his question is much more clear. You can tell Sniper doesn't like eye contact, keeping his space and eyes wandering. You notice this. You let out a small huff.

"Ah, I'll be outta your hair before you know it." You joke, although your shoulders slump in a saddened way. Sniper looks at you in the corner of his eye before taking another slug of his coffee.

"Bummer..."

"Yes, I know. You'd best be celebrating soon- ... uh, hm?" Your head lifts from your papers to see the man swirling his mug before looking at you.

"I said bummer." He repeats himself before he's left getting another cup. You can feel your cheeks getting red... and you being. Very confused. Your hand twitches, almost losing your pen before regaining your composure. "They need'ja out there, best get goin', mate." He announced before turning around and leaning on his counter, looking at you over his mug. You flush once more.

"Right, I appreciate your time and patience, Sniper," you send a quick smile before brushing down your skirt and handing your mug over. "Thank you for the hospitality." You said quietly, nervous around the Australian. He takes it and nods. “See ya’ around miss.”

Taking that as your sign to leave, the click of your heels are soon echoed and left with a small click of his trailer door. Sniper looks at the handle for a while, anxious to see you again.

You were lovely company.

rorichuu!

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #team fortress #tf2 sniper #tf2 sniper x reader #sniper x reader #tf2 x reader #sniper headcanons #sniper tf2 #sniper fluff #sniper x reader fluff #tf2 mercs #rorichuu!

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kyupidos · 3 months

Text

02/18/24’s delivery 🏹✉️ twisted wonderland

paper cranes and origami heartsヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ,ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ ;; summary. ‘your means of communication is now through two things—letters hidden within pages, and leftover snacks.’

part one. tit. dear messenger

characters. diasomnia : sebek zigvolt ;; romantic . 🖇️ tags. reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader is yuu, pre-relationship ( gettin there..? ), romantic fluff

📡 _a/n. chat am i cooked if i continually forget to write for the fic series that are piling up.. ( to the person who asked for a prt two..sorry it took literal months heueh )

— you began to visit the library even more often than you thought possible since then, with books by your side, and though you’d reread them all practically a hundred times now, it was always like a breath of fresh air. after all, though you hadn’t a clue who they were, and they certainly weren’t by your side at the moment, you had someone to talk to—a pen pal, if you will. a sincerely sweet one, at that.

— in your signature penned handwriting, your hand moved in sync with the way your leg bounced lightly in subtle excitement to be able to send another reply. some time had passed—you’d like to say some weeks, though, considering yet another overblot had occurred, and winter break was freshly over. you never do seem to get a break, do you? but at least, you have good friends to get you through it, for instance, the pen pal you’re trying to write a response to at this very moment. you tapped your cheek with your pen, trying to come up with a satisfying response though you know for a fact your pen pal doesn’t expect shakespearean from you.

— ‘that’s a nice way to interpret it, right? not like a tragic ending, rather..an open one? leaving it up to the imagination may be frustrating, but the imagination’s also where the magic happens.’

— recently, your conversations had been feeling more..organic, if you had to describe it. almost as if, despite the fact you didn’t know each other’s appearances, voices, and you weren’t by each other at all, you knew each other as good friends all the same and were having a conversation right then and there, albeit through writing. it felt nice actually; a score considering this all started because silly you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to a therapist or something and write letters inside books instead, but it’s a pretty good coping mechanism if you had to say, so you’re pretty sure you’re good..

— bringing you back to reality though, the way you unconsciously let your hand drift to bring a baked treat to your mouth to chew on. some moments ago, trey came over to deliver some leftover goods, figuring you’d appreciate it—and obviously you did, but it sure was a struggle to get it out of grim’s paws. you had to promise him premium tuna for that one ( you can only imagine the fly that’ll escape from your wallet, singing about how poor you are ). you had your own little spot in the library of course, hidden by the bookshelves. you prided yourself on your cleanliness, so you swore up and down to the library ghost staff you wouldn’t make a mess; though they reassured you they wouldn’t mind anyway.

— you were well aware of how good trey’s baking was, but you were constantly rereminded of the fact with every bite you take. not like you were complaining, the snacks were heavenly, you’d have to thank him again later. just about then you were once again settling in, ready to continue reading since you’d finished with your response already, simple despite how much time you’d spent on thinking it up.

— but then disaster struck.

— “hey, henchhuman!! tell ace i’m not gonna fail the stupid exam, would you?! he keeps getting on my hide!” grim complained, leaving you with an exasperated look as you watched ace quickly jump out of his chair from the corner of your eye, grabbing onto the chair to shake it a little making his point even more clear that it was true, considering the fact that grim was right about to fall asleep before he pointed it out; grim of course arguing that he wasn’t. honestly you felt a bit bad you didn’t even realize they were also in the library but to be fair, they probably didn’t even realize either until grim noticed you from the corner of his eye.

— with an amused snort that thankfully wasn’t loud enough to be heard, you just pet grim’s head ( who seemed to be pleased before realizing it was visible, so he pouted and lightly slapped your hand away with his paw ), guiding your way over to their table with grim following suit, holding onto ace’s chair with him sat again, looking at his, grim, and deuce’s study guides. a mere squint and a head tilt told them the teasing mood you were in, “you sure you didn’t sign a contract with azul for this?” that little quip eventually turned into fun banter, the four of you eventually getting lost in conversation over your studies, until it got late—and before you could get to scolding, deuce mentioned the need to return to your respective dorms, ace joking about how you tended to act like riddle when during late hours like this ( which you quickly tapped at his forehead with your knuckles for ).

— though your book was left open at your table, the plate of baked goods beside it as well.

— safe to say, you were very much a wreck when you came to that realization literally the morning after. well, it was a sunday so at least you didn’t have to worry about getting through school first, but you’ve still got your point! once your outside shoes were on, you sped walk over to the library, tripping a little as you greeted the library ghost staff in apology over the mishap, though you knew it wasn’t a big deal to them. when you returned to the scene of the crime though, the book was closed, though bookmarked, and while the plate was still there, you’d think it was licked clean, though the crumbs prove otherwise.

— and when you opened the book up to the bookmarked page, it became clear why— a more domestic scene in the book, where the characters are described to be baking together and feeding each other cookies. you remember finding it cute, though your pen pal didn’t really see why you were hyping it up, in his own way of talking that was; you don’t think he’d ever use that sort of lingo ( or rather ever write it ). right by his old commentary making that exact note, in newer writing, and you could tell by the way the strokes were more crisp and the distinct smell of the ink seemed more fresh.

— ‘i can see why you like this scene now.’

— really, even in one sentence the words charm you, and you feel like you can hear him saying them to you in the moment though you don’t even know what his voice sounds like. and you couldn’t help but smile, taking into mind that one sentence a little more.

— maybe you should bring snacks to the library more often; this time around specifically made by you.

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thecapricunt1616 · 3 months

Text

The Bear & His Honey ; Chapter 8 -

♡ Chapter Inspo: Lyrics - (TS) Slut! (1989TV!) ; “You’re not sayin’ you’re in love with me, but you’re going to, half awake taking your chance it’s a big mistake, it might blow up in your pretty face I’m not saying do it anyway, but you’re going to” ♡♡》》𝟙𝟠+ 𝕆ℕ𝕃𝕐 𝔽𝕀ℂ! ℕ𝕆 𝕄𝕀ℕ𝕆ℝ𝕊 𝔸𝕃𝕃𝕆𝕎𝔼𝔻《《♡♡ ♡ Summary: Carm + Winnie have an evening in together. They get wine drunk and have slightly spiritual talk over pizza. Winnie talks Carm through a nightmare. Carm gets some much needed rest, Some angsty sex ensues. ♡ W/C: 8,902 ♡ Posted Date: 02/20/24 ♡ A/N: (Kinda TL Don't have to read) Hayy besties!! I’ve been lookin' over the fic & judging what y'all like by the chapter likes- ok smut and Soft Dom Carm!! I’m leaning towards Soft Dom Carmy being the main trope for this fic & based on the likes y’all love it too!! He needs to build into it though for sure, Like- i'm not great at writing things close to canon- but what is canon is a pivotal part of what makes up Carmen - which is being severely emotionally underdeveloped in regards to relationships - also sexually. BUT don’t get me wrong- that man is a DOM he just needs a partner who will find that and pull it out of him. Like- y’all I am ALL for the fully anger management therapy version of Carmy tthat'swritten in to one shots here like I THIRST for it- I just want to try and flesh out the journey in between because I find it interesting. But it WILL happen in this fic- as you can tell this fic is a slow burn, its gonna be long, and I know its gonna end with Carmen being fully sexually comfortable (at least with Winnie) so expect some dirty dirty filth, carm is just growin rn okay!! I also find it fun to write kinda virgin! Carmy- I believe its canon he’s never had a gf- but I believe he’d had to have blown off steam some way in NY and hooking up on tinder since it was that time would be popular. Anyhow, enjoy this chapter! ♡ Warnings for BTC: Minimally edited, talks of spiritualism, vomiting, talks of PTSD/Panic Attacks, Sad!Carm, Fluff, (Kinda asshole) But mostly insecure!Carm, Smut! (Talks of it- oral (m) , kissing, etc just slutty shit)

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

The pizza had gotten there pretty quickly but considering the time of night, that was to be expected. Carmen had been sure to order Pepperoni with extra cheese per my request, and by the time the delivery driver had knocked on the door, we had already finished off my entire bottle of wine and I was in the kitchen opening another. He returns to where we had set up in the living room, putting the steaming pizza box on the coffee table. “No way- you need to finish that story, you can't just answer ‘why do you believe in angels’ with ‘I met a guy when I worked at Dunkin’ Donuts and we had breakfast every day until he died’ and that’s just… the end of the story,” he said and I laughed, coming back with 2 very full glasses of Rose and setting them down.

“That is the whole story, you mean you want the long detailed version?” I set down the 2 paper plates and paper towel roll I was holding under my arm. “Yes.. Please- how was this man an angel?” he snorted, his face flush from the alcohol as I could easily assume mine was. “Okay… his name was Harold, he came in every day, and one day, well” I took a bite of my pizza. “Like I said - my parents, they were never married. My Mom was a twin, but her sister died when they were babies- anyhow” I took another bite, realizing he was listening intently.

“Um.. yeah..” I swallow “So, my dad like- wanted nothing to do with us really, I mean- we met him a few times but… we were just like I dunno, puppies or something? Like, my dad didn’t want us, but my mom was all religious- anyway… wait- what was I saying?” I asked and he started laughing, “Fuckin, Dunkin Donuts man, Harold?” He said and I nodded, catching my breath from laughing at my own drunk rambles. “Yess! Okay, so that's why- we had no money! And with Chris and all his appointments and everything, my mom had even less money, so when I was 14 I got a job to be able to buy stuff, so anyway, I was working a shift.” I took another bite of my pizza before a large sip of my wine.

“And the angel… flew in to buy his coffee?” he teased and I nudged him with my foot. “Shut up! He’s actually the coolest person ever just listen!” I said and he nodded, going in for his second slice of pizza. “I was working a shift, and this man comes in… he looked really sick and he was like ‘ oh can I get something to eat I don’t have any money’ or whatever so I didn’t have any money to spare obviously and so I got my manager thinking this is a huge fuckin’ company - yanno being an idiot teen - and my manager was like ‘oh sorry dude can’t help you’ and so…” I took another sip of my wine before continuing.

“I took my 4.25 that I was gonna use for lunch, I figured whatever, cause this dude needs it- he looked really sick, and that he needed to eat. and I remembered, my mom always said you do things when you can cause when the lord sends his angels to test you they aren't in a suit” I shrug and his eyebrows raised. “You gave him your lunch money?” he said and I shrugged “Mmhmm, anyway- not the point this is the point, Carm, so he leaves, right? Harold comes in, he gets his regular black coffee. Goes and sits down at one of the tables by himself, he drinks it all like he usually does, just watching- waiting almost, and before he goes to leave, he comes up to the counter, and guess what he does?” I asked and he shrugs, waiting for me to continue.

“He hands me, four fucking dollars, and twenty-five cents” I exaggerate each number and his eyes widen, “what the fuck” he muttered. “And I’m like ‘ Harold, why are you given’ me this?’ And he’s like ‘Oh I don’t know honey, I just figured you can use a pick me up today’ “ I took another bite of my pizza and he stopped chewing. “That… is fucking nuts,” he said and chuckled a bit and shook his head.

“And then, every day, we’d sit on my first break and he’d tell me stories about his life, the wars he’d been in, his daughters, his wife before she died, and when he stopped comin’ his daughter came in - she told me that he told her to tell me that he wasn’t doing well and that’s why he hadn’t been by- so I went and visited him in the hospital, got to say goodbye, he was so awesome, and he would do that sort of thing all the time- whenever someone needed something Harold was just… there ya know? It’s like God..or something sent him in at a different time every morning to help someone out even in the smallest ways, He was an angel” I said and Carm nodded, putting his plate down and finishing off his own wine.

“Well, now that you didn’t make it sufferingly short, I see why you think that. I’d probably believe in angels too if somethin’ like that happened” He said and I dusted my hands over my empty plate before setting it down on the table. “So you’ve never had an experience like that?” He shrugged looking up while he thinks before shaking his head.

“Nope. Maybe you’re just magical” he pokes my nose causing me to giggle. “I think you” I poke his nose back “are drunk, and we both need to go to bed. Cmon those blankets I put in the dryer went off a few minutes ago. Let's brush our teeth before they get cold” I got up and grabbed our glasses and he took the trash “At least let me help you a little” he said and I smiled. “Such the gentleman.” I teased and he followed me into the kitchen.

I pointed to show him where the ziplocks were and put the cups in the dishwasher, taking the box to the entryway and leaving it to bring to the recycling in the morning. “Oh uhhh…I sleep…with the um-“ I started “rain sounds?” He chuckled a bit, stretching his back. “Mmhmm…” I nodded. “So uh…is that ok?” I asked and he nods “no problem for me”

I turn around and head in the bathroom turning on the light “I assume you didn’t bring a toothbrush, or are we that close already?” I teased and he snorts. “No…I did not. Got an extra?” He asks and I open my bathroom closet “you’re in luck, Sadie’s soon to be sister in law is a dental hygienist” I pull out 2 from my thick stack Sadie had put on me when she came over since she had so many laying around her house.

“Are you a green or blue boy?” I asked and he pouted playfully “no Spider-Man?” He jokes and I giggle. “Blue it is” I put the green one back and popped open the blue one, handing it to him and turning on the sink, wetting my pink electric toothbrush. I put on my anti-cavity toothpaste and handed it over to him, he did the same putting some on his brush.

“Don’t worry, I’ll time you” I said and he raised his eyebrow “what?” He asked and I turned on my toothbrush, giving him a smug smile before popping the brush in my mouth. Every 30 seconds I mumbled ‘next quadrant!’ With a small smile until the 2 minutes was up, spitting my toothpaste out and brushing my tongue as he did the same before rinsing my mouth and shutting off the water.

By the time we got in bed and shut the light off, Persephone had well found her spot between my legs, purring softly as she groomed herself for the night and I opened my phone, going to tik tok. Carm spoons me from behind, nuzzling his face in my shoulder with his arm wrapped around my waist. “What’re we watchin’ babe?” He mumbled and I smile.

“My nightly dose of giggles” I said and scrolled down my for you page, stopping on a video from ‘Secret Brittany’ and my eyes locking on the screen.

Okay guys, lock in alright? This is the plan - the military planning for the next 2-4 months of my life

Carm lets out a snort in to my neck, his hand traveling up and down my ribs as he watches with me.

I’m not going to move to Ireland- yet. I’m going to purchase bumble premium in Ireland, and I’m going to march with Irish men who want me - caveat, they want me, then, I’m going to move, and live my faerie dream

I giggled, “me” I said quietly to myself and he pinches my waist gently causing me to giggle more “you?! You’re not goin’ anywhere I dunno’ what you’re talkin’ about” he held me tighter, nuzzling his nose deeper in to the crook of my neck. “Is someone whiny and jealous? I’m sure with my red hair and thick hips I’d have guys lining up for me” I teased and laced my fingers with his.

He let out a bratty huff “I know that’s why you aren’t allowed to go” he muttered into my skin, causing me to smirk as I scrolled on to the next nonsense video. I gasped as I realized I had forgotten about getting to the next part of my absurd series about some woman divorcing her lying husband and looked up her account and Carm leans in a little closer.

“Wait…” he muttered softly as I scroll through, trying to find the last video I left on. “Who the fuck did I marry…52 parts Winnie?!” He snorts and I giggle “Carmen- shut up, shhh your brain. Get engrossed.” I said and went all the way back to the first part and I glance down at him.

“You know I’ve watched 23 parts but I’ll rewatch- cause you have to see this, and know-“ I lean in so our foreheads were touching and giggle a bit. “I’m scared” he said playfully causing me to laugh more. “Know Carmen -whatever your middle name is- Berzatto, I will always sniff out a lie- I will do my diligence- hear me?” I huff a laugh and he kisses my lips tenderly.

“I would never dream of lying to you” he said honestly before continuing. “I may not tell you everything at once, but I’ll never misguide you, yeah?” He said softly and gently cups the back of my head with his warm hand. I nodded softly against him. “Yeah…” I whisper and kiss his forehead. “My middle names Anthony” he said with a small smile. “Mines - basic. Ok, Now listen to this bullshit” I giggle a bit and turn back around, hitting play.

It was about 3 parts (30 minutes) of Carmen softly gasping, playing with the hem of my shirt in anticipation, and humming in confusion before I heard the first snore come from his lips. I hit pause on the video, putting on my rain asmr sounds on Spotify and gently plugged my phone in, setting my alarms before drifting off into a peaceful, relaxed sleep.

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I woke up to the sounds of violent retching in my bathroom, I rubbed my eyes, confused for a moment before remembering that Carmen had slept over. I padded out to the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing my brita jug, before opening my cabinet and grabbing one of the many different glasses that fit a bamboo lid and glass straw, this certain one adorned with cherries. I gently pushed the cup under the ice dispenser, letting a few cubes drop in before filling the cup with chilled water.

I pushed the lid and straw on, popping the Brita back in the fridge before padding back to the bathroom, where I heard dry heaving from outside the slightly cracked door. “Carmy?” I mutter softly, pushing the door further open to see him crouched over the toilet, elbows supporting him as he gagged over the bowl.

“S-sorry.” He muttered, coughing a bit before sitting up and trying to catch his breath. “No- no. Carmen, don’t apologize” I knelt down next to him, gently rubbing his back. “I’m not feeling sick.. so was it a nightmare?” I asked softly, extending the water to him. He sat back on the floor, extending his legs in front of him and sighing deeply.

“I really didn’t mean t’wake you, Winnie. It’s fine…really they happen like every night” he mumbled, taking the glass from my hands. “I have them too! It’s ok, it's ok. S’just a bad dream” I said softly and gently brushed his curls off his forehead that were damp with sweat. He takes a big few gulps of water from the straw, sighing relieved before leaning back and resting on the cold tub.

“Did you…did you wanna talk about it?” I sat next to him, pulling my knees to my chest and resting my cheek on my knee, glancing at him through the moonlight coming through the window. It was hard to see him without my glasses or contacts, but his striking blue eyes were still impossible to miss. “It’s…” he looked at his hands, holding the glass. “Stupid” he said finally. “So..so stupid. I used to..” he sighs, his head dropping back and eyes squeezing back in thought.

“Throw up?” He said like a question, shaking his head quickly. “Like” he looked at me “before I’d…see my boss” in the dim light I could still see his cheeks reddening. I bit my lip gently, leaning over and hugging him silently, my head resting on his chest. “I’m sorry” I said softly and he sighed, setting his water glass down and curling his arm around my frame, rubbing gently. “No.. no that’s not- don’t feel bad” he said softly, his thumb rubbing soothing strokes in to the middle of my back.

I gently shook my head against his chest. “Carmen…” I said softly. “This… this monster…” I said softly and looked up at him, cupping his cheek honestly. “He makes you sick Carmen…what…what he did to you- whatever he did…he creates a panic response in you, baby.” I rub my thumb along the stubble of his jaw that was already peaking out before first light.

He swallows thickly, drinking in every word I was saying. “He…he…” I look at the floor, trying to find my words. “He instilled that voice in you” I said, my lip quivering slightly and he put his thumb to my lips gently to stop the motion. “What? What voice, honey?” He asked softly.

I giggled into his finger, still slightly wine-drunk. “Your inner-saboteur. Just like Ru-Paul says” I gently nibble his finger, causing him to really laugh. “My inner-saboteur” he repeated with a smile. “Yes” I said gently and kissed his forehead. “Let him go, Carm, fuck that guy! Fuck your inner-saboteur. I’m still a tad bit drunk, but c’mon- brush your nasty throw-up teeth” I said teasingly and giggle, resting my forehead on his and gazing into his icy blue eyes.

“And come back to bed, I’ll introduce you to Drag Race tomorrow” I said softly, pecking his lips tenderly. “Okay?” I gaze into his eyes, looking for agreement. “Okay…” he said softly, a smirk adorning his lips.

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I wake up to the feeling of Persephone jetting off my right thigh like an Olympic-launching pad at the sound of my alarm going off, soothing chirping birds filling the bedroom from my hatch alarm clock Sadie’s Parents had gotten me as a housewarming gift. I groan softly at the reverberating pain in my thigh muscle from her sudden attack, reaching down and soothing the ache with a slow rub from my hand.

Carmen was draped around me, his arm tucked protectively around my waist and his prominent nose nuzzled in my neck, the feeling of short, hot breaths hitting my shoulder at an even pace. I gently leaned over, tapping the top of the clock that was slowly getting brighter, so it stopped its cry of awakening,

I rubbed my face tiredly before I gently pried Carmys sleeping fingers off of my waist, slowly getting up off of the mattress, so as to not wake him. My t-shirt brushed just below my lower cheeks, goosebumps crawling up my legs from the chilly apartment air. I nuzzled my feet into my pink bear-claw slippers, and quietly shuffled out to the kitchen, silently pulling the bedroom door shut behind me.

I sighed tiredly, stretching my back and arms just at the end of the hall, moaning softly at the blood rushing to my muscles at the action. “Mmhmm” I mumbled at Sephy hungry cries, scratching my scalp in a sleepy haze.

“Comin’ babygirl” I muttered softly, shuffling out to the kitchen and opening the cabinet, I pulled out a tin full of wet food and cracked it open with my forefinger, taking out a spoon from the drawer. She meowed impatiently, causing my tired eyes to roll up involuntarily.

“Persephone” I muttered, tired but stern. “Jesus Christ should I call ASPCA?” I joked, taking a spoon out of the draw and nudging it closed with my hip quickly before spooning half the can in the bowl and chopping it up half-hazardly, before setting it on the floor with a clink. She dove in, eating like she’d been starved.

I put a pod in my Nespresso machine, and rested my chin in my hand as my latte brewed, scrolling through my ‘For You’ page, sending a few videos to Sadie that made me stifle a laugh so as to not wake Carm. I opened my fridge, pouring some half and half in to my cup that I’d already filled with ice before pouring my espresso over the top and mixing it up before sealing the lid.

I shuffled over to the couch, sitting down and continuing to scroll through videos as I sipped my latte. By the time I’d finished it, Persephone was sitting on the cat tree grooming herself in the morning light and the clock read 8:32. I got up, going over to my record player and shuffled through my selection of records, settling on Ctrl by SZA that Syd had gotten me. I bit my lip gently, thinking of her.

I really hope she wasn’t mad at me…for too long. Thinking back on the conversations she had with us about her ‘boss’ who I now knew was Carm, he could be a serious asshole and he…emotionally led her on in a way? And they never explicitly mentioned their feelings but it sounds like there definitely was feelings..My thoughts are broken by the static of the record as it switches to the next song and Love Galore starts playing.

I did my usual routine of walking around, pulling open my blinds to let the light in before heading to the kitchen to make breakfast. I washed Sephys bowl and set it on the small drying rack before setting a pan on the stove to heat. I opened the fridge, resting my hands on my hips, and realizing I have no idea what Carmen eats- if he eats breakfast. It’s a Saturday though…I settle on the safe options of eggs and toast.

I popped 4 pieces of bread into the toaster, humming along to Doves in The Wind while I cracked 4 eggs into a glass measuring cup and whisking them with a fork. I added a little bit of garlic salt and pepper, mixing it again before dropping some butter in the pan and letting it melt. I got out 2 of my pink heart shaped plates and set them down in preparation, before pouring the eggs in the pan. It was quick to scramble so I put the toaster down, and I was shuffling over to the table just as the bedroom door opened.

Carm genuinely looked refreshed. The bags under his eyes were mostly gone, and his eyes didn’t look red and exhausted. I look over at the clock, 9:22. “Good Morning, Chef. I hope scrambled eggs and butter toast is acceptable? With jelly of course” I went over, clicking off my record player that had stopped spinning a few minutes prior. “You made breakfast?” He asked, looking over to the table.

It took all of my strength to keep a casual face at his deep, husky morning voice. “Mmhmm!” I hum and come back to the table and he followed. “Coffee?” I ask and he nods “thank you- wow. I can’t remember the last time I.. actually ate in the morning. What time?-“ he looks over to the stove and his eyebrows raise. “Shit.” He snorts. “I guess your bed was comfortable” he sits.

I smirk proudly “well I’m glad you’ve enjoyed your stay so far at Winnie’s bed and breakfast” I said and went to the kitchen, opening my cabinet and smiling wide at the perfect mug for him to use. I set it down on the counter, “cream?” I asked opening the fridge. “Yes, What are you cheesin’ about?” He teased and I giggle “somethin’ - just wait” I took out the cream and set it on the counter and popped in an americano pod.

“Oh! Forks! Sorry. Forgot my meds this morning. Let me go do that” he chuckles as I quickly shuffled off. I go in to the bathroom and took my medications with a handful of sink water before coming back and seeing his coffee was done. “Perfect!” I took it out, putting cream in. “Sugar?” I asked and he shook his head “no” he said and I stirred the coffee, putting the spoon in the sink.

I carefully come over, covering the art on the mug until I set it down in front of him with a giggle. “A Bear mug for Bear and it has a cute, true saying, ‘A hug a day keeps the lonelies away’ “ I giggled. “See that one’s me,” I point to the smaller one, “and that’s you,” I pointed to the bigger one “cause’ you give teddy-bear hugs” I smiled. He looks up at me, his blue eyes sparkling in the morning light, an adorable smirk on his face.

“You…” he starts and shakes his head, pulling me into his lap and I giggle, wrapping my arms around his neck loosely to steady myself. He kisses all over my face, causing giggles to involuntarily fall from my lips and my eyes to squeeze shut at the quick short pecks that tickled like butterflies, my heart fluttering the same way in my chest. “Are so fucking cute” he hugs me close and I giggled, wrapping my arms around him.

“Thank you” he kissed my neck sweetly before releasing me and I got up. “Wow, an ambush, I do take payment in kisses but warn me so I can count!” I joked, sitting down in my seat and he rolled his eyes playfully, a pink blush adorning his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “Forks!” I said and he laughed, shaking his head again.

“Does that happen all the time?” He asked and I nod, heading over to the drawer and grabbing 2 forks. “Yup. It’s worse if I don’t have my meds” I put his fork in front of him. “Hope it’s ok” I said and sit down “no- this is…this is great Winnie, thank you really” he said taking a bite and nodding. “5 stars Chef” he said and I laughed before taking a bite of mine.

“Mmhmm totally I’m coming for your spot! Better get worried these eggs’ll put you out of business” I joked and he snorted, taking a sip of his coffee. “Mm- I think Starbucks should be a little scared” he teased and I giggle a bit, nibbling on my toast. “That’s all Nespresso that thing is amazing”

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When we finished breakfast, Carm takes our plates and his mug over to the sink and starts washing them, along with the pan I’d used. “Wow…he cooks and cleans? You sure you aren’t taken already?” I joked, wiping down the table with a Lysol wipe. He chuckled “nope, haven’t gotten any serious offers” he joked back with a smile.

“Did you wanna see my little library craft room thing?” I asked, throwing the wipe away in the garbage. He puts the now clean dishes on the drying rack. “Course, what do you…craft?” He asked, following me to the second bedroom and I opened the door. “Oh..lots of things. I sew,crochet,read, make jewelry, I paint sometimes” I shrugged and he looked around at all the half finished projects.

“This is cute” he hummed, picking up a half finished star and moon granny square blanket off the back of my pink desk chair. “Oh! That’s for Syd’s birthday!! She’s such an astrology girl, it's one of those things we can talk about forever.” I smiled and he nods a bit. “Why haven’t you ever come around more? The uh- the restaurant” He asked as he looked over the intricate stitches and I shrugged, picking up stray crochet needles scattered on my desk and putting them in the little drawer where they belonged.

“Oh.. well Sadie and I - it’s kinda fancy for one thing, and umm..we don’t like people and it’s been busy for months “ I laugh a bit “fancy huh?” He teased, setting the blanket back down and walking over to the wall of pictures I had next to my overflowing bookshelf. “It has been pretty busy” he said as he gazed over the different memories of girls trips Sadie and I had taken as well as pictures of nights out with Syd.

“Also as you can probably tell- Sadie and I do not belong in a cool fancy place like that” I giggled and he shook his head rolling his eyes playfully with a smile. “I don’t either but it’s what brings the business right?” He looked over the books. “Damn, you read a lot” he said and I giggled. “Mmhmm! Work at a bookstore” I said and he pulled one of my most well loved books out, “this one of your slutty books?” He teased and I roll my eyes.

“Ha.ha. No- this is an amazing book, you’re saying you’ve never read this book?” I took it from his hands. “My brother gave it to me” I said and flipped to the second blank page where ‘From Chris To Twinnie’ was scribbled in his chicken scratch handwriting. His eyebrows raised. “Oh…no- no. Never heard of it.” He said and my jaw dropped. “Never heard of The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane” I scoff a big smile coming to my face.

“Okay, so, now I see” I nod, holding the book to my chest with a teasing smirk on my face. “See what?” He asked “I see why you…I dunno” I shrug. “Don’t like to have fun “ I poke his chest and he scoffs. “I have fun I am totally fun!! Are you saying I’m boring?” He asks, slightly offended and I laugh. “No! I’m saying that… the whole point of this book is that life, our journey to self discovery is useless if you have no intention of loving or being loved.” He raised his eyebrows before starting to laugh.

“A rabbit said that?” He questioned and I shook my head “no he learned it. C’mon let me do skincare on you and read it you’ll love it” I said and he blushed a bit. “Why do I have bad skin?” He joked with a teasing smile. “No you have nice skin but let me take care of it” I said and led him to the bathroom by his hand, getting out my face wash “wash your face with this” I said and turned the water on warm, and grabbed a clean face towel from the cabinet with embroidered strawberries on the hem. “dry your face with this” I instructed.

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I gently put on the sparkly under eye patches under Carm’s eyes and he scrunched his nose adorably. “The fuckin’ hell why do you do this” he muttered “feels like a slug” he said causing me to giggle “oh my god such a boy. This will make your pretty blue eyes much more noticeable without all the darkness from never sleeping” I gently smoothed them out, booping his nose with the tip of my finger when I was done.

“Mm whatever you say this is Winnie’s Salon after all” he says and I tut “no! This is Winnie’s beauty parlor. I'm not cutting your hair today” I said and his eyes fluttered open, looking up at me with a small smile. “They look pretty on you” he said, causing me to blush. “You’re a big flirt” I gently played with his hair and his eyes fluttered back shut, humming softly in satisfaction. “Did you want me to read to you?” I asked and his smile grew.

“Please. It’s been a long time actually, I’m excited to hear about this rabbit” he said and I grab the book from next to us, opening to the first page and starting.

“Chapter One”

By the end of the first page, he was glancing up at me, watching me speak each word and smiling slightly when I did slightly different voices for each character. At the end of the first chapter, I close the book and he pouts a bit. “What? No keep going, that was getting cute…she loves that bunny” he said and I giggle. “Yes she does, if you want to hear the next chapter you have to come see me again. Plus, I’m getting hungry”

I peeled his eye patches off, gently rubbing in the remnants with my ring fingers and he smiled softly. “Mm…you cook breakfast, pamper me, and read to me? I think this is my new hang-out spot for Saturdays” he jokes and I giggle a bit. “Good, so next Saturday you’ll get to see what happens in the next chapter.” I said and he sat up, sitting against the headboard next to me.

“Sounds like a steal for me” he smiled adorably, his skin still glowing from the serum I’d applied. I looked at his lips, then back at his eyes before straddling his hips and kissing him deeply. He hesitantly moves his hands to my hips and rubs with his thumbs gently. I kiss down his jaw over his stubble to his neck, nipping gently and he groans softly “Winnie” he said, gripping my hip a bit tighter. I gently tug on his ear with my teeth. “I think it’s hot you’re such a talented chef and like when I cook for you” I said softly in his ear, gently tangling his curls in my fingers as I continue to kiss and nip his neck.

I grind my hips on his and he moaned softly “Winnie.” He said softly, moving his hand to my back “I-i…” he swallowed thickly and I stopped, sitting up and looking at him. “What? Did I..did I do something wrong?” I asked. He shook his head, refusing to meet my eyes. “I-I don’t…we shouldn’t” he rubs over his chin, thinking.

“Do you…regret last night?” I asked, getting off his lap and sitting crisscross beside him on the bed. He shook his head again “no- god no that was fuckin’ amazing Winnie I-“ he blushed, looking down at his lap. “I’ve uh never…” he cleared his throat, his eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. “I- I’m surprised I lasted that long with you- a-and…I’ve never done that before..what we did in the shower and I’m still- I’m thinkin’ about it” he swallowed thickly, finally looking at me and I nodded slowly.

“Okay…I think we should talk more about our sexual experiences” I said and bit my lip. His face goes pale, his mouth opening and closing a few times like he was trying to find the words. “Uh- I” he stuttered. “I’ll go first…what uh- what do you wanna know?” I asked casually and play with the hem of my shirt. “Uh- well..that’s- I don’t… I don’t know a lot” he said quietly, clearly embarrassed by the way his eyes darted away from mine again.

“Okay so…how about this then. I’ve slept with 24 people, including you. But most of the bulk of those were back home, I’ve slept with you and one other person since I’ve been here, how many have you been with?” I asked and his eyes widen. “Twenty four?” He repeats, his mouth dropping slightly. I scoff “what so guys can sleep with 100 women by the time their 24 but I can’t sleep with 2 people a year over the course of nearly 10 years?!” I asked my tone laced with annoyance.

He shook his head quickly “no-n-no Winnie no…I’ve….ive slept with less then 8 people…I’ve had sex like…maybe…” he took a deep breath, looking away and swallowing thickly “I don’t- I don’t like this game anymore or- or questions. Or whatever” he said his cheeks going red. I bite back a laugh at the irony of him being so insecure by holding my tongue between my teeth and I gently touch his bicep. “Look at me” I said softly and he shook his head inching away from my touch a bit.

“Carmen. When I said no one has made me cum like that- I mean it. I was fully seeing stars bro I was shaking Carm.” I laughed and he looked over, eyebrows raising. “You really meant that?” He asked and I roll my eyes playfully. “I wasn’t even gonna fuck you a second ago I was gonna suck your dick because I’m sore. Literally yes you’re amazing Carmen you’re so fucking hot.” I said and he bit his lip, looking at his lap.

“But I can’t…like- when…when we were in the shower” he muttered “that was-“ he swallowed thickly “I’ve never…I’ve never had sex in the shower before and-“ he sighs deeply. “I don’t want to get attached.” He looks at me finally, and I was silent for a moment, my brain filing through all the possible things he could mean. I settled on the safest response that would have the least possible chance of rejection. “Like- you don’t want tooo…” I questioned and he raised his eyebrows waiting for me to continue.

“To get attatched to fucking me on your days off?” I question and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Winnie” he muttered, slightly annoyed. “That’s not what I mean Y’know that” he said and I bit my lip. “Tell me what you mean then, Carmen” I said and he looked up at me. He stared at me for what felt like forever, studying me, my features, I tried my best to decipher what was going on behind his eyes but only a week of knowing each other I was rolling blanks.

“I don’t want to get attached to this. Winnie, to you. I don’t want to do this, we can’t do this.” He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest and the small change in body language felt like an ocean of distance was suddenly created between us emotionally. My mouth suddenly felt dry, and my throat was growing an enormous lump. “Why” I finally choke out and he looks back at me. “Because I told you, Winnie, I’m not boyfriend material. What this” he motions between the 2 of us “Is, can’t keep going like this. Fuckin’ cuddling and shit..”

I felt like I wanted to burst out into tears, not more than 20 minutes ago he was dreamily looking up at me while I read to him and now he was telling me that he won’t allow himself to be around me, and relax. “Oh” I scoff, my eyes narrowing and crossing my arms over my own chest.

“You are such a little baby,” I said and his eyebrows furrow, “what?” He asked. “A little fucking. Baby.” I repeat myself and he blinks a few times, “What the fuck do you mean?” He asked and I got up. “You are an angry baby, because you realize that I have more experience in the bedroom!” I laugh dryly. “Carmen. You knew what you were getting yourself into. You want this. Look at me, and tell me the last fucking time you relaxed on your day off? Hm?” I raise my eyebrows, shrugging and waiting for an answer.

“You don’t fucking know me, Winnie” he scoffs. “I don’t- I don’t give a fuck that you have more experience than I do. Clearly, it wasn’t with anyone good! Per your fuckin statement 5 minutes ago.” I shook my head. “You’re right! You’re right Carmen. I was begging for your cock- and you wanna know something? You loved it. You were pussy drunk, Carmen, you- you are just so fucking obsessed with depriving yourself of joy, of pleasure that instead of allowing yourself to fuck me you’d rather be in your apartment all alone and cum in your hand? Fine. Have fun” I shrugged, motioning to the bedroom door.

He sat there, jaw dropped. “You-“ he closed his eyes in shock, shaking his head as he digested what I just said to him. “You are so-“ he sighed, looking at me and his eyes flicker to my chest. I smirk, “fuck. Im gonna fucking hate myself this week. C’mere” he said and I knelt on the bed, straddling him once more and kissing him deeply. I pushed him back on the bed roughly. “Tell me you don’t want me” I said and peel off my shirt, exposing my breasts and already peaked nipples shining with their little black studs, already hardened due the adrenaline coursing through me.

“Fuck off Winnie you know I fucking want you” he grabs my breast, playing with my nipple gently and I bit my lip. “I haven’t even showed you half of what I can do- and you’re gonna throw the towel so soon?” I rest my palms on his shoulders for leverage as I ground into his hips, the friction causing his eyes to flutter shut and his head to fall back onto the pillow in a low whimper.

“N-no- no you’re right. You’re right Winnie fuck” he moaned, gently tugging at my jewelry causing me to gasp in pleasure. I kiss him hard, circling my hips into his at a torturously slow pace causing him to whimper and groan into my mouth which made a small smile come to my lips. I pulled away slightly, our lips barely an inch away.

“Do you want me to suck your cock?” My eyes flutter to his, my hips completely still. His breath quivers “yes” he said barely above a whisper. “Tell me, say it, Carmy. What do you want?” I ask and kiss his neck tenderly. “I-I want you t-to” he swallows thickly when I nip at the tender spot below his ear. “I want you to suck my cock” he said, eyes fluttering shut and cheeks going red. I smirk, happy with the admission, but still unsatisfied with the way he was denying himself.

“Okay baby, since you asked so nice, like such a good boy” I said, his lip tugging between his teeth and

I kissed down his chest, his abs tightening when I made my way over them, my tongue dragging slowly down the divot in the middle. He watches me with hooded eyes, hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles were turning white, his chest raising up and down deeply at a quick rate as he watches me worship him.

I straddle his calves, gently rubbing his fully hardened length through his sweatpants and he whines softly “please-please Winnie” he breathed impatiently. I smirked, my hands rubbing long teasing strokes up and down his thighs. “Do you really want me to suck your cock, Carmen?” I asked and he swallows thickly. “Winnie” he wined, looking away and his cheeks heating.

I stopped touching him and my hands raised to my breasts, gently palming and squeezing them before playing with my hard nipples and my head dropping back as I moaned. “You don’t want me, baby?” I asked and his hand traveled to his pants and I stopped him, grabbing his wrist. “Do you want me Carmen?” I asked, taking his hand and putting his forefinger and ring finger in my mouth, my tongue swirling around them and hollowing my cheeks at the base of his hand.

He bit his lip harshly as I did so. “So so fucking bad.” He said softly, I pulled off his fingers with a ‘pop’ and tugged him out of his boxers, leaning down and spitting the puddle of saliva I had collected in my mouth while sucking on his fingers and pump his length with the wetness, twisting and getting it all wet. “Holy fucking shit” he mumbled, a moan falling from his lips and his head falling back momentarily but he was quick to put his eyes back on me.

“Does that feel good baby?” I ask sweetly, my thumb brushing over his tip. He nods “shit- yes s-so good baby” his abs clenched in pleasure as I slowly dragged my thumb over his slit teasingly. “Mmm the noises you make are so sexy baby I love it” my other hand dances around his stomach, my nails brushing the toned skin causing him to shiver slightly.

“Oh you adorable thing” I said and leaned down, kissing his tip gently and his head drops back, a breathy moan falling from his lips, his knee jerking slightly under me. I stuck out my tongue, slowly licking his tip from the back of my throat all the way to the tip of my tongue, flicking it teasingly causing him to whimper beautifully. “You have such a nice cock baby” I praised, pumping him slowly, twisting my hand how I knew he liked based on the way his stomach would tense when I did it repeatedly.

I look up at him, his cheeks, bright red, curls stuck to his forehead in sweat, “do you like it when I tug harder” I did so and he whines “or softer?” I went back to my original firmness and he breathed out, I could tell no one had really ever given him this kind of attention during a blow job before- so I was relishing in the fact that no matter if he did claim to hate himself this week, every time he came after a long day it would be at the thought of me. So I’m pulling out every stop, every theatric - I’m going to make this magical.

I was already fucking him dumb and I had barely used my mouth yet. We had a lot of work to do, to mold him into the kind of partner I knew he yearned to be. And whether we continued to pretend to be ‘friends with benefits’ while he learned, or he decided he wanted more- I didn’t care. Because I knew this man wanted to dominate, and I was dedicated to getting it out of him.

When I got no verbal response my hand stopped moving and I gently tap the head of his cock against my tongue getting his attention. “Words.” I said softly, smiling sweetly as I waited for a response. “Hard. H-hard. Please.” He said and I continued as he requested and he grunts “fuck yes…mmm twist baby like-“ he moans louder when I oblige. “Yes. Yes.” he breathed and I smirked, moving my hand faster.

“Good boy, I love it when you tell me what feels good” I said and my hand that was on his stomach travels to his v-line, my forefinger soothingly stroking as I took his tip in my mouth, he lets out the hottest noise between a moan and a cry that I’d heard a man make, before I heard the sounds of the fabric beginning to give beneath his death grip. I pulled my lips off and stopped my hand from jacking him off, taking my hand off his stomach and pulling my hair out of the bun it was in.

His eyes shot open as soon as I stopped, a small gasp tumbling from his lips as my tight curly bangs fell over my forehead, when they were blown out they were the 80s look I loved to achieve with my hair- but my bangs were extra curly naturally since they weren’t weighed down like the rest of my hair and I’d gotten it wet last night. I pushed it off my shoulders, taking his hand and putting it on my head. “Go as hard as you want. I’ll squeeze you twice if it’s too much.” I said and started again before he could reply.

He whined hotly as I took him down inch by inch until he was lightly hitting the back of my throat, he was mostly just stroking the back of my head but when he felt me swallow around his tip it was like something in him flicked on. He grips the back of my hair “f-fuck- god do that again- fuck do it again Winnie” he said, pushing my head down gently. I closed my eyes, saying a silent and quick prayer to every god ever that I’d fully digested my breakfast, and that my gag reflex had gotten much better since trying to train it with my toothbrush before bed the past few years.

I took a deep breath, before fully relaxing my throat and pushing his tip past my tastebuds and I gently stroke his thighs, more to soothe myself that I could do it, before pushing deeper. He cries out, moaning what sounded more like a pleasured growl, his fingers tugging my hair lightly. I knew I had to stop pushing before I either hurt myself or actually gag and embarrass myself. I swallowed around him slowly, my throat fluttering around him for a few moments.

I feel his muscles all tense beneath me, his abs tightened, stomach clenched, fingers digging into my scalp, eyes screwed shut, veins protruding in his neck. He would be cumming in the next few seconds so - I stopped. I pull off, sitting up, a string of saliva pulling from his cock to my lips as I did so. My lips swollen, jaw sore, chin and neck slick with saliva. I smirked as he gasps, his orgasm flowing away like dandelion seeds in the breeze and he looked at me, his pupils blown with lust.

“W-why. Why did you stop?” He asked, he almost sounded angry. I shrug, “do you deserve to cum, Carm? You you deserve to feel good?” My fingers dance around his stomach and v line causing goosebumps to appear on his skin and his cock twitches, aching to be touched. “Please Winnie, fucking- let me finish” he grumbled, looking at the ceiling.

“Let you” I scoff. “Do you even think you deserve that. Carmen? Hm? Put enough hours in this week? Plan enough new catering orders?” I taunt, goading him into showing me any thread of dominance in him I could tug on. He looks at me, his eyes darkening “suck my fucking cock. Winnie.” he ordered and I smirk. “Ooo, making demands now, I only serve those who deserve it” I drag my forefinger from his balls to his tip, smiling at the reaction of his stomach clenching and cock jumping in a twitch.

“I deserve it” he grumbled, not meeting my eyes. “Hm?” I hum, ghosting my hand around his cock but not gripping it. “I said I fucking deserve it” he looks into my eyes as he said it. I lean down taking him back in my mouth and he sighs in relief, I pump the bottom half of his length as I take him back into my throat. It was barely 2 minutes of him spilling profanity, muttering my name, whines and moans, and only swallowing around him 2 times before I felt him fully tense up again, and an enormous load shot down the back of my throat, so much that I had to swallow 2 times after pulling off of him to get it all down.

“Holy shit” I laugh taking a deep breath and he was laid there, trying to catch his breath “sorry” he said between breaths, eyes blissfully shut and cheeks flushed as well as his chest from his release. “No its…it’s fine just. Holy shit. You just dumped a generation down my throat” I joked and he laughs lightly.

I quickly fix his boxers and laid next to him after pulling my shirt back on. “How the fuck did you do that?” He asked and I shrug a bit, pushing my hair behind my shoulders. “Dunno. Just tried it. Glad you like it though. How’d it feel?” I asked and he blushed, averting my gaze shyly. “Uh…” he furrows his eyebrows thinking. “Kinda like…your pussy but … like way tighter, and harder if that makes sense.” He looked back at me and I giggle.

“Hm…ok. It was kinda cool, also really hot, also pretty freaky- when I went to wipe my chin, my hand touched my throat and I felt your dick like…” I giggle, covering my mouth at his shocked expression. “Holy fuck that’s hot” he said and I nod. “Felt weird. I’ll have you feel it next time” I said and yawned a bit, sitting up.

“I’m gonna brush my teeth then you wanna nap?” I asked and he nodded “I’m not sure why- we’ve done basically nothing but I’m exhausted.” He said and rubs his face. I shrugged, “just your body catching up while it can on rest. I’ll be back.” I said and padded off to the bathroom.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear fic #the bear fx #the bear hulu #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto fanfiction #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x oc #carmen berzatto x oc

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mins-fins · 7 months

Text

HAUNTED (L.DH)

SUMMARY . . . it's difficult to.. grasp it, in a way, yeah, donghyuck is psychically there, but he doesn't remember anything, like his mind has been wiped clean. in the end, he's just a walking blank slate.

PAIRING . . . lee donghyuck x male!reader

GENRE . . . angst, somewhat fluffy

WARNINGS . . . passing mentions of car accidents, post-traumatic amnesia

WORD COUNT . . . 0.9k

NOTES . . . im going to admit, not my best work, i made this SUPER PRETTY HEADER and the writing cant even compare its so……… *sighs* mediocre 🙁, anyway i love haechan sorry if this doesn't live up to expectations

"do you know who i am?"

it's the same response as always, donghyuck's eyebrows knit together and he pauses whatever he's doing for a moment, staring at y/n like he's a complete stranger that he's never met anymore. y/n has to admit, it really feels like his heart is being ripped out of his body every time he asks this question and he gets this response.

"your.." donghyuck pauses once again, his mind going blank. y/n knows this is the result of the accident, that his condition will probably get better with time, but does it remove the pain of him not knowing him? no. "y/n, my boyfriend, my partner".

y/n blinks, staring at the male right in front of him. he tries his best not to cry. he doesn't sound sure of himself, he sounds like he's trying to convince himself that that was the right answer. donghyuck continues staring, his eyes holding nothing, just emptiness that y/n can identify.

he clears his throat, shaking his head. it's too early in the morning to get emotional like this. "yeah that's.. right, sorry, i—"

"i hope i didn't say anything wrong" donghyuck says, biting his inner cheek. "your not upset, are you?" he asks, his voice lowering to an astonishing way honestly, it makes y/n want to cry even more.

"no no, you didn't i'm just.. i thought about something sad that's all" he doesn't look convinced, which y/n finds ironic considering his current condition.

"oh i'm sorry".

it's difficult, living with someone who once remembered every single little thing about you, now not even remembering your facial features, or your favorite color, or your hobbies, or what your coffee order is. y/n didn't expect for him to live when it came to the accident, it would've hurt having to go to a funeral for someone he loves so dearly; but it also hurts knowing that because of the trauma from accident, everything is just.. a blur now.

it hurts, having to clarify who he is every few minutes because he doesn't remember, and it hurts even more because it's like living with a blank piece of paper. yeah maybe he's psychically there in a sense, but he's just.. there, he doesn't remember anything much, and when he does talk first, which is unlikely, all he talks about is stuff that's barely important.

when y/n does bring up stuff they did in the past, or shows him the pictures they used to take on their polaroid cameras together, all donghyuck can do is just stare, because he so badly wants to remember it, he wants for his memory to desperately come back and for everything to go back to how it was before he decided to get into that car on that saturday morning.

but it just can't.

life just isn't fair, and no matter how much y/n tries to act like it'll all be okay, it won't. it won't ever be okay, he can try to ignore it, he can try to act like he's doing well, dealing with it well, but.. he isn't, everyone can see through his stupid facade.

"you look very pretty in these pictures" donghyuck randomly comments, looking through the polaroids spread around the table. pictures the two of them had taken together with.. his camera. he gives y/n a small smile, focusing back on the pictures.

"yeah, you took them" he replied simply, and donghyuck blinks, he doesn't remember that, of course he doesn't, y/n can envision the words that are about to leave his mouth.

"i don't—"

"remember.. i know" y/n cuts, donghyuck looks sad for a moment, casting his eyes away from his partner. "hey it's okay" he runs a hand up and down his back. "i'm not upset, it isn't your fault".

donghyuck blinks, he wonders what it'd be like if he just.. did remember, he'd save y/n so much pain and despair if he could just remember. does the universe hate him so much that he's causing pain to the one person who loves him the most? why can't he just remember everything? he wishes y/n could be happy, because even with the smiles he showcases to donghyuck, he's not really happy.

it bothers him, like an itch, but no matter how much he tries, his mind can't conjure up anything, whenever he thinks he's about to get it, it's like his mind resets, and every memory he's ever had has ceased to exist.

it keeps him up at night, and he doesn't even know why, because usually he just.. sleeps, he usually never tosses and turns, he usually never zones out staring at the ceiling, he usually sleeps just like that.

but he can't help but think he's at fault..

he can't control other people's actions, he can't, but it just makes him feel so disappointed knowing that the reason y/n doesn't have peace.

donghyuck rolls over, staring at y/n's sleeping face, he looks peaceful, and it makes a smile come to his face. his mind always goes a little hazy when he thinks of y/n, and he knows that it makes y/n's mood go down.

he doesn't know why, but he reaches over and lightly brushes y/n's hair out of his face. he blinks, just staring at him. he stays asleep, only lightly shifting. in his unconsciousnesses, he reaches over and grabs donghyuck's hand, holding it.

donghyuck is a little taken aback, he looks down, staring at the sight. y/n's hand is warm, it feels nice.

he lightly smiles again.

he doesn't really remember much, but y/n's still by his side.

for now, he'll just live in the moment.

#lee donghyuck #haechan #lee haechan #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #haechan imagines #haechan scenarios #haechan drabbles #lee donghyuck x reader #nct x reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

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star1117-archives · 5 months

Note

Just anything with Dilf ateez please 🙏🥵💀💜

“You have a lot of nerve for someone so young.”

Gulping, you bowed your head as the man in front of you eyed the papers in front of him, his gaze piercing behind his dark frames. Song Mingi was handsome in all senses of the word, from his startling( some may even say godlike) features to the shock of blond hair styled perfectly on top of his head. Wherever he went, heads turned in awe and affection, and even though he was no spring chicken, he could easily be on a runway.

Yet, this was not what had your focus, it was instead the screenshots in front of him that he was diligently sorting through. Screenshots from your social media account. He seemed to find one of your posts particularly interesting, holding it up and adjusting his glasses before speaking with a taunting tone to his voice.

“ ‘Song Mingi could crush my oesophagus with those fuckin’ thighs of his.’ ”

You took in a breath, about to excuse yourself, but he held up a hand without even looking up.

“Surely even an insolent brat like you knows children only speak when spoken to.”

Grinding your teeth, you couldn’t help but glower as he found another screenshot to his liking and read it aloud also.

“ ‘The way I would give him the most astronomical.. Gluck Gluck.. thrussy-? bonanza if he ever asked.’ I… quite an inflammatory statement, Y/N.”

Face on fire, you couldn’t help but tear up, your head hanging low so Mingi couldn’t see your tears. You mumbled under your breath and this didn’t go unnoticed, Mingi sighing before looking up at you.

“Since you do not understand the concept of silence, please enlighten me on what you’re practically dying to say.”

Meeting his gaze, your words had a bite to them as you spoke.

“I am not a child and I don’t see the need to subject me to this shaming, Mr. Song. Just fire me already.”

His brows furrowed at this, his head tilting to the side almost akin to a cat.

“Who says I’m firing you?”

It was now your turn to look confused, your body losing some of its tension and your jaw beginning to relax.

“W-…What?”

Mingi let out a chuckle, the sound deep and sultry. You loved hearing his laugh.

“At what point did I say I was firing you?”

“I- I just thought-”

Mingi rolled his eyes, letting the papers fall on his desk.

“Well, you thought wrong and frankly,”

He gestured to the papers in front of him.

“I’d take whatever thoughts I have with a grain of salt if I were you.”

Although you were all queued up for another outburst, you held your tongue and watched as Mingi stood up, coming around his desk before sitting on the corner. When he saw you shift uncomfortably, he gestured at the seat before him. You gratefully walked to it, sitting down as he considered.

“Y/N, you are one of the best secretaries I’ve ever had. Admittedly, I thought you’d consider the fact that a data handling company may have the expertise to find who runs this…”

He trailed off for a second, looking backwards at the screenshots before turning back to you.

“What do I call this? A.. fan account, I suppose?”

Your face burned as Mingi shook his head, refocusing.

“Semantics, I digress. But nevertheless, I won’t be firing you. This… childish infatuation you have with me has been addressed, and I trust this, along with your account, will come to a swift conclusion.”

You bit your tongue, words piling up and trying to escape. It was a poor habit of yours, you always wanted to get out what was on your mind. But you needed this job, and the last thing you wanted was for him to reconsider firing you. However, scrutinising as ever, Mingi saw you wanted to speak.

“What could you possibly have to say now, Y/F/N?”

Unable to contain yourself, you stood up once again, startling Mingi as you were practically inches from his face, raving like a madman.

“With all due respect sir, you’re wrong! I’m not a child, my feelings are not childish and I don’t appreciate you acting as if they are! I’m a grown adult with grown adult big people feelings for you! Infatuations don’t last years, sir! I am an adult and you will respect me as one!”

Chest heaving, your eyes widened when you had realised the entire time you had been poking Mingi’s chest, the male even more startled than before. You then took a step back, face practically on fire as your words tumbled out in a stuttered mess.

“S-sir I’m sorr-ry for my uh- my o-outb-”

“Quiet.”

Mingi stood up straight from his relaxed position on the desk, walking slowly towards you with a glint in his eye. You paced backwards as he spoke.

“Grown adult big people feelings? You can’t be serious.”

He gestured to the table with an air of anger, but there was something taunting about his gaze.

“Nothing you’ve done has been remotely adult-like! You proclaim you have adult feelings but can’t express it without screaming like some irate toddler!”

Your words bit back at him with a frustration more powerful than before.

“You wanna see me express my feelings like an adult, Song?”

“Yes! It would be a lovely fucking change, wouldn’t i-”

Your lips crashed violently onto his, moving with a hunger only desire could produce. Luckily, he reciprocated with similar eagerness, hands cupping your face as if he was scared you’d pull away. Quickly forcing your way into his mouth, your tongue explored every nook and cranny it could reach as he now pushed you up against the door, hands grasping at you as if he didn’t know where to touch first. When his hands finally decided on pushing under your shirt, you gasped into his mouth, cheeks heating as Mingi cursed and pulled you closer. You tangled a hand in the back of his hair and pulled him away, trying your hardest not to smother those plush lips of his again.

“That adult enough for you?”

Only smirking, Mingi looked lovedrunk (or the lustful equivalent of it) as his eyes held almost too much desire for you to process.

“No where near enough.”

You let go of him with a frown, wondering what you’d done wrong. He had seemed so eager..

“Wh-”

Leaning into your ear, his breath fanned over your lobe and that sickeningly attractive smirk of his was evident in his tone. Damn him and his sex appeal.

“Wanna be adult enough for me? Lock the door and get on the desk.”

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helianskies · 2 years

Text

day 1: writer & artist

written for @hwsrarepairweek2022, welcome to the first work of ~a selection~ that i hope to share with you this week!

rating: teen+ ⠀ words: 1.7k

pairing: turkey/portugal 🇹🇷🇵🇹

read it below or over here on ao3!

João woke up to the sound of scratching, quiet and a bit distant, but still invasive. He stirred and dared to pry open an eye, unsure of what time of day he would potentially find himself immersed in, but otherwise quite certain of what it was that had disturbed him. For one, the bed was empty besides himself; secondly, this was not the first, nor third, nor tenth time that he had received such a wake up call…

…what was that thing they said about history repeating itself?

“Dammit, Sadık…” he groaned, rolling onto his back, arms flopped over his face in an attempt to block out the stream of sunlight hitting the bed.

“Good morning,” Sadık replied, nevertheless, still working away in the corner of the room. “Did you sleep okay?”

João had to bite back a laugh. “I was sleeping fine until you decided to start drawing again, querido.”

“Oh, uh… Sorry about that…”

“‘S fine, at least it’s a weekend. I don’t have to be in a good mood for anyone, like clients or co-workers… A day-long strop sounds kinda fun, really…”

“I’m stopping, I’m stopping!” Sadık professed all the while, and sure enough, João heard the scrambling and rustling of paper being hastily set down on the floor—the only place for it to go—and he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

Sadık was good. Sadık was good to him—amazing to him, really—and João treasured that. Sadık was funny, caring without being suffocating, and incredibly wholesome. But, oh my God, was he also a bit of a dork (granted, one of João’s favourite things about him).

While his partner sorted himself out, João sat up in bed and stretched. A yawn fought its way out of him—he tried to smother it behind a hand—and the next thing he knew, he was the one being smothered by kisses, a barrage against his cheek. João could not stop himself from laughing.

“Okay, okay, I accept the apology!” he assured the other, only half-heartedly fending him off.

Sadık seemed relieved. “Good!” he replied. “Am I allowed to continue drawing now?”

João stammered over a response, the words escaping him before he eventually settled on: “Are you going to let me actually see what you’re drawing this time?”

“Well, maybe. Depends how it turns out.”

“You never show me your sketches,” João huffed, giving a pout as though to exaggerate his point (and guilt-trip him). “Considering that I’m the thing you draw more often than anything else, and also bearing in mind you normally paint places and not people, I’d kinda like to see what I actually look like. I hope you’ve been drawing my good side!”

“Every side is your good side,” Sadık promised him. A hand tucked João’s hair back over his shoulder and out of the way, and the intimacy of it, minimal as it was, certainly helped to mellow him. “I’ll show you later on. There’s some things that need fixing, and I’d hate for you to see an unfinished sketch.”

João conceded—compromise was far easier and than pushing for something—and in the same breath, Sadık agreed to take a break. That was all João wanted to hear.

With that settled, he got up from bed, a sudden burst of energy in his body (which seemed to startle Sadık somewhat), and he stretched once more. There was some tension in his shoulder—a massage would surely help, he figured—but rather than getting the hint, Sadık had other priorities:

“You should probably stop giving the neighbourhood a private viewing,” he said, a blanket appearing and wrapping itself around the lower half of João’s otherwise very naked body. The latter was amused. The curtains weren’t even open that wide but bless, if the paranoia wasn’t adorable!

“And here I thought you liked it when I was naked,” he teased.

“I do,” Sadık replied, “but only when I get the private viewing.”

“Mmmh. Noted.”

Still, João took custody of the blanket and kept himself wrapped up, mostly because that blanket was nice and cosy, and he was in no real hurry to get dressed. What was on his mind more than anything was the drawing—Sadık’s little obsession with grabbing whatever medium he had to hand and just beginning to transfer João onto paper. Sometimes, it was nice. He really was a talented artist, and seeing his passion and focus was quite the inspiration, as well as just generally endearing. But sometimes, the real João wanted the attention—wanted the dutiful gaze, the gentle fingers, the artist’s appraisal…

“João?”

“Mhmm…?”

“I’ve upset you.”

“No,” João said, shaking his head (but otherwise unsure how to reassure him). “You haven’t upset me, it’s fine.”

“Something isn’t fine, though,” Sadık nevertheless noted, “and I’ve got a funny feeling it’s still the drawing thing.”

João, knowing how transparent he could be around the other, was hardly going to deny it now. “It’s always the drawing thing,” he said. Not in a confrontational way, however, so much as just a dismissive, ‘it doesn’t really matter’ sort of way. This little thing hardly warranted a serious discussion, he felt. “Like I said, querido, it’s fine. I don’t entirely hate it.”

He just hated it when it got in the way of Them.

(Well, and his sleep… but that was less important.)

Just as João was ready to move on, start the day, debating between a shower and a hug, he was interrupted. Sadık stepped in his path and blocked his route to any exit from their bedroom (for less intimidating reasons that it sounded, of course). João was ready to dig his heels in, either way, so sure that the other wanted to address this blip. He didn't want the talk, he didn't want the coddling, he didn't want the, 'there there, it's okay' because he despised it—had seen it too often in previous relationships. That, and he quite simply didn't want to get in the way of Sadık and his craft. So further discussion was off the table!

Yet, words and diatribe did not appear. Not right away.

Instead, Sadık’s hands came to hold his face, cupping his cheeks and ensuring that João listened to whatever it was he had to say. The way he smiled held a warmth that only Sadık was capable of—a warmth that spread right from his chest, through his fingertips, and into João’s very being. Silly as he thought it was, for the other to draw him so frequently and to be the subject of the other’s gaze in such a way, João... did love it. He appreciated it. Sadık loved him, and he never had to say it for it to be believed.

“Listen,” his partner duly began, “I can’t help it, and you should know that by now. There’s just something so beautiful about you, canım, and I don’t know what it is—but you are just… I can’t resist drawing you, loving you…”

Warmth became poorly-hidden surprise.

“Beautiful?” João repeated, trying to mask his wariness of the word behind a light scoff, a half-laugh. What followed was a brief but awkward pause, an uncertainty about how to respond… “Very cute and romantic of you,” he eventually managed to say as the other’s hands fell away again, “but flattery will get you nowhere. You woke me up with your endless scratchy sketching, and you still have to make it up to me!”

“Ah— Coffee?”

“And?”

“Breakfast in bed?”

João tutted. “I’m not in bed anymore, what’s the point?”

“On the balcony, then,” Sadık suggested. “Coffee and a light breakfast.”

“Better. it’s almost perfect, in fact…”

“Almost…?”

João tapped his cheek. Sadık understood. He leaned in and a peck landed on his cheek (warmth blossomed from the spot, a raindrop rippling in a lake) and, just when João was ready to let him get on his way, Sadık saw fit to then steal a heartier meal from the other, lips on lips, hands on waist.

Yes, well, when Sadık had suggested a light breakfast, João had not expected himself to potentially be on that menu.

(Maybe for lunch...)

“Go on,” João laughed, gently pushing the other away before someone got too greedy (as much as he would have loved to carry on). “Go and make a start on food, or something. I’m going to have a quick shower, okay?”

“Aw, didn't you fancy sharing with me?”

“Just go!”

Satisfied with his jesting, Sadık scarpered off, snickering away to himself through the apartment, and leaving João to himself.

A shower was indeed a good idea. His hair was in need of some attention (really, those dead ends seriously needed trimming; he would have to ask Sadık if he minded helping him with that later on) and, just in general, he preferred to feel properly refreshed and awake before getting on with the day. It put him in a better mood.

Before he did that, however, there was… something he had to quickly do.

With Sadık gone, João returned to his bedside table and opened the middle drawer. From it, he retrieved an old pen and a notebook, already half-filled with scrawl and mess and explosions of random thoughts that came to him at all times of day. But he needed it. It may have been chaos, but it was also important to him—an ongoing project that, much like his hair, required some serious attention.

Sitting down on the bed, João hurried to find where he had left off: a chunk of dialogue more matted than his own locks. Bad, bad, bad. He turned to the adjacent blank page, wielded his pen, and began to write an… alternative exchange:

“I can’t help it, and you should know that by now. There’s just something so beautiful about you, and I don’t know what it is—but you are jus—”

“Beautiful is a big word, and a very sweet one, too. But what makes me beautiful is you—your love. You give me a reason to be. Without you, there would be no one to be beautiful for; I’d be a garden with no flowers, a ship with no sea. You are why I am the way that I am, and I love you for it—more than these words could ever truly say.”

Yes, yes… That was much, much better…

Now, if only he knew how to say that, not in a book, but to a face…

#hws portugal #hws turkey #turkport #hwsrarepairweek2022 #after the last turkport fic i wrote it was hard to uh s t o p #your honour i—

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esoteric-mantra-stuff · 1 year

Text

Olympus (A rematched Icebound Return)

CW: General descriptions of curses and non-gory violence. It's nothing that could be considered gross, but I think it's worth mentioning.

Heyyyyy, here I am back on my bs. I wanted to get this one done before the end of March, but I've been a bit busy. Haven't had much time for creative writing. The next one might take a while to come out because of that, but we should be getting to some juicy stuff.

Also Morgott my beloved, why do you have to simp so hard for this ugly piss yellow tree?

------------------

In your many years of wandering the Lands Between, you had never set foot in the Atlus Plateau before, much less the royal capital. You’d heard whispers of a secret path, an ancient route long forgotten after the Great Lift of Dectus was created. The prawn seller you used to visit told you about it, but you’d never had the courage to try it. If it had not been for your companion’s affinity for exploring ruins, you’d likely have taken that secret path. Instead, you’d found both halves of the Dectus medallion required to activate the lift. A stroke of luck, perhaps, but part of you wants to believe its fate. As you made your way up the hallowed grounds where the demigods once stood, and the worship of the Erdtree began, something strange happened. You started to feel a sense of… Deja Vu?

The yellowish trees, the golden accents, the larger-than-life statues, the… everything felt almost familiar, but not quite. Like when you forget a word but can feel it on the tip of your tongue. You were sure you couldn’t have possibly been here; your first memories were at the First Step, learning what Tarnished are from a white masked doctor and that you were supposed to have a maiden with you to give guidance. Too far away from the Atlus Plateau, not to mention an exiled Tarnished descendant would have never been allowed the grace of visiting a place like that. It’s illogical. Still, you wonder if it’s a clue to your missing memories and bring it up to your companion or, rather, your lover.

“I only know about the Tarnished through second-hand information, but my understanding is that they’re exiles and their descendants who are being called back to reclaim the Elden Ring, right?” Lobo said, looking around the yellowish landscape. The two of you decided to take a break by a broken bridge. Private Dancer and Paper Moon, your dear horses, ate at the grass nearby. You nodded; that was more or less the same information you’d gathered during your time here. “Then, is it not possible you visited this place before being exiled? As part of Godfrey’s original group.” He asked before taking a bite of his sandwich. You tried remembering how you were when you first awoke in the First Step. Your body wasn’t that of a warrior dressed in nothing but a silky traveling robe and a navy hood. Armed with an old sorcery staff and a dagger. Would someone like that really belong amidst a company of warriors? You shook your head. “I don’t think that’s it… I have difficulty believing someone like me could’ve ever belonged with them.” Lobo was a bit disappointed; you appreciated his help regardless. “Besides, I was little more than fifteen or sixteen when I woke up at the First Step. That a bit too young, don’t you think?” He hummed affirmatively, crossing his arms before a mischievous smile formed. “Blast, I felt like I was on the right track. Though I suppose you don’t look over five thousand years old.” You chuckle. “I’m sorry; I can tell you were looking forward to calling me old.” He laughed at that, and you couldn’t help but join. The conversation drifted from there, but the mystery remained. You had a connection with the Atlus Plateau; you just didn’t know why.

—---------------------------

The way through the Capital itself was a nightmare. You were under siege by the Leyndell soldiers and knights from every side. The main entrance was a no-go, positively crawling with enemies. So you took the long way around, over the broken bridge through a convenient waygate, past a village of windmills, and through a side gate. It was still heavily guarded, but more possible to tackle head-on than the main gate. Golems, soldiers, the undead, knights, and even a draconic erdtree sentinel posed a relentless challenge, yet you surpassed every single one with your combined might and ingenuity. By the time you were inside Leyndell proper, you and Lobo were exhausted. You would have continued, but Lobo insisted that exhaustion would only lead to fatal mistakes. Besides, he wanted to head for the Roundtable Hold to shop for an item he had his eyes on last time. So you conceded. Still, with the Elden Ring just a few city streets away, you wouldn’t find much sleep that night. Would the answers you seek come to you once your reason to be was fulfilled?

The city streets were not any easier to traverse than the outskirts. Knights patrolled every corner, and what you could only describe as marshmallow people holding trumpets stalked the rooftops. A large Erdtree Avatar wandered the main city street, so you took to the avenues to avoid it. Eventually, you made it to the base of the Erdtree. You climbed its roots together, holding Lobo’s hand so he wouldn’t fall on the treacherous path. Finally, you reached the top of a tall building nestled within the branches. Inside, the ghostly apparition of a man you didn’t recognize attacked you. Lobo quickly summoned the spirit of a Bloodhound Knight whose spirit ashes you’d obtained within a forgotten Evergaol on your last excursion to Limgrave. You and Lobo stood by and watched them fight. It was surprisingly entertaining; you could almost see a market for watching two spirits duke it out. The agile movements of the knight were enough to banish the stranger, and you continued your exploration. You discovered an elevator that would allow you to return to the city, but more importantly, you uncovered yet another root that could lead you further up and closer to the Elden Throne.

That’s how you found yourself in Marika’s bed chamber. A large, uncomfortable-looking bed surrounded by stone tablets. You would think that an eternal goddess queen of the Lands between could afford some pillows at least. To your right, up a flight of stairs, was the Elden Throne. You’d spent so long wandering, living day-to-day, never thinking about yourself or your purpose. You’d given up your destiny long ago, yet here it was, just a few steps away. All it took was a chance encounter with a quarter-wolf for that to change. As you both stand before the first step, you stop to look at each other. Looking into his eyes, you can only hope you can repay what he has given you. With a determined nod, you make your way toward the throne room.

—-----------------

“Graceless Tarnished.” A figure speaks from the shadows behind the Elden Throne. The figure is horned and tall, an Omen. “What is thy business with these thrones?” The Omen says, could this be the true appearance of the Veiled Monarch? His voice is very familiar. Yes, you’ve met this Omen before. You’d killed him last time, though. “He did say he would return.” You think to yourself. “When Rennala said the king’s true face was that of a monster, she wasn’t lying, it seems.” The horned figure revealed to be Margit the Fell, gesticulated towards the ethereal thrones before him. “Ah… Godrick the Golden, The Twin Protegees Miquela and Maleina…” The three thrones on your left belonged to them, it would seem. “General Radhan, Praeter Rykard, Lunar Princess Ranni…” The three thrones on your right belong to them. You don’t miss the disgust in Margit’s voice when Ranni’s name exits his lips. “Willful traitors, all.” He punctuates the last word with a hit of his staff, embedding it in the ground.

Lobo leans in to whisper. “Get ready while he’s distracted.” You give a short nod, slowly concentrating the power within your staff. This is a known enemy. You won’t let him catch you off-guard. “Thy kind are all of a piece… Pillagers emboldened by the flame of ambition.” The Omen addresses you directly, crushing his staff and revealing an iridescent blade beneath. “Have it written upon thy meager grave… Felled by King Morgott, Last of all kings!” Margit, or rather, Morgott exclaims, raising his sword to his side. The Omen king’s soliloquy has ended; now it’s time for the final act. Lobo raises his shield, and you hold on to your staff with both hands. This is it.

Lobo is the first to approach Morgott. The Omen King walks slowly and deliberately, probably expecting yet another trick. He also remembers your last encounter. He is not fooled by your companion’s wobbling steps and keeps guarding despite the apparent lack of danger. That’s fine. If he can learn from his mistakes, so can you. Once Lobo is close enough to be within the king’s range, Morgott swings at him, summoning a hammer of light with the other hand, but before he can slam it down, Lobo’s shield makes contact with the blade, knocking Morgott off-balance and breaking the spell. The Omen king isn’t deterred by this and swings down, this time at an angle impossible to parry. Lobo rolls towards Morgott’s legs, sliding under his tail as it swings to catch him. From behind, he strikes a few times with his sword before Morgott summons yet another hammer and brings it down, which Lobo dodges away from with a backflip (You remember him being very proud when he pulled that off for the first time). The Omen King makes the mistake of attempting to reach Lobo with his sword, Morgott may be fast, but your companion is already on his feet before it can connect. Another strike at the shield, knocking the sword away, bringing the king to his knees. Lobo’s longsword plunges into the Omen’s chest, and he’s thrown back on the floor. He’s in your line of sight.

Then you hear the finger snap; that’s your cue. You start charging up the spell, the power of the Primal current causing the wind to blow in every direction. You’d only used this spell once to mostly disastrous results, but now with your current training and the queen’s advice, you feel prepared. From behind the light of your staff, you see Lobo raise his hand with the shield, revealing the object he had been holding this entire time. A small fetish, purchased from the Roundtable Hold, the one who would form the crux of the plan you’d laid out together. Yes, this was a known enemy from the start, and you only have the queen to thank for that. Before Morgott can stand up, your companion activates the shackle and pins the king to the floor. At that moment, you release your spell, hitting the poor Omen with the full power of Comet Azur. The force is enough to knock you back, but you stand firm.

Lobo shields his eyes from the light of the Comet. As the shackle finally breaks, Morgott is sent flying toward the throne, knocking it over. You thought that would be enough, but then the coughing started. Lobo stood back as Morgott let out a painful-sounding scream, and the full force of his curse was unleashed. You worry as you briefly lose sight of the quarter-wolf when the waves of curse burst from the king. “The thrones… stained by my curse….” The king said, swinging his now cursed sword towards Lobo. A red trail, followed by explosions in its path. The Omen king continues speaking, mostly to himself. “Such shame, I cannot bear. Thy part in this shall not be forgiven.” You tried running towards them, but you’d given too much to summon the Comet and fall to your knees. To think someone could survive after being hit with the strongest spell. Morgott’s power truly is on a whole other level. Regardless the Omen must be weak, as his hits are fast and desperate. One successful parry from Lobo, and it’s all over.

That’s why your heart sinks, and your vision blurs when you see your lover be skewered by Morgott’s cursed sword. His body disappearing into ash. You’d come so far it couldn’t end like this. Morgott, who seems satisfied with his duty, now turns towards you, and the sense of Deja Vu returns. You have been in this position before, during the first time you fought him. Perhaps, that’s why your vision drifts toward something behind Morgott that he doesn’t seem to have noticed. Something that tells you this fight has been won already. Something so stupid, you can’t believe it’s working.

For whatever reason, there’s a random pot right behind Morgott.

It’s over in a flash. The effect of the Mimic Veil fades, and Lobo somersaults towards Morgott’s back, catching him by surprise and throwing him down. Before the Omen can recognize what happened, Lobo’s sword is plunged through his back, finishing him off. “Tarnished… thou art but a fool… the Erdree wards off all who deign approach….” With the last of his strength, Morgott struggles to speak. You finally manage to stand up and approach the dying Omen. “We are… We are all forsaken….” A sad chuckle leaves him before all life fades from his eyes. On paper, it’s a victory, but the title of Elden Lord was never as close as it once seemed. Fate played yet another cruel trick.

—------------------

Thorns… a wall of thorns covered the way inside the Erdtree. Were they those of a regular plant, cutting them with a sword would have done the trick, but all attempts to do so failed. What gives? Why did Marika even call the Tarnished back to the Lands Between if she had no intention of letting them mend the Elden Ring? What was the point?

…

You’re too tired to ponder these questions. Today ended with no major injuries (If you don’t count the Mimic Tear that got skewered), just a deep sensation of dismay. Tomorrow you’ll have to consult with the finger reader at roundtable hold, though you doubt the Two Fingers will give much insight. As far as you can remember, the fingers have been quiet, unresponsive to the world, stretched out, and trying to reach some unknowable force, but you’re out of options, and someone must know what to do. That someone, as it turns out, was waiting for you at Sorcerer’s Isle.

“I see… You never intended to keep your promise after all… What do you want, Ranni?” Lobo says upon seeing the Princess sitting by the fire. The witch lifts her head as you both take a seat by the fire as well. She speaks in her usual measured tone, her hands folded over her lap. “Circumstances have forceth me to breach our accord. Although, first, I wouldst liketh to congratulate thee over thine victory against the Omen King.” Lobo lets out a joyless laugh, and you sigh. With them sitting on opposite sides of the fire and you sitting between, it would appear you’ll be stuck playing mediator today.

Lobo stokes the flames, not making eye contact with the woman across from him. “I would hardly call it a victory, considering the Elden Ring is still out of reach… That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Ranni’s face betrayed no emotion, yet the slight recoiling of one of her fingers makes you feel he’s right on the money. “There’s a reason you’re still lingering about even though you have everything you need. So, spit it out already. Why are you here, and what do you want?” Tense silence falls over the camp after Lobo’s words. You can almost picture the daggers flying left and right as both sides stare each other down. You’re too tired for this, so you clear your throat. Both sides now stare toward you, their intensity redirected, but you can’t seem to care. “Excuse me, but I would rather avoid a fight. I’m sure you’re tired too, Lobo, so please let Ranni explain herself.” He falters, ears pinning back. Looking down in shame. “Right… I’m sorry, I didn’t consider… I shouldn’t have.” It’s not a complete sentence, but you understand what he means. You motion towards Ranni, who looks almost surprised at Lobo’s change of tune. The witch bows her head, a silent apology for misbehaving as well. “I believeth we can be of mutual help… To open a way to the Elden Ring, thou shall needeth to set it alight. A cardinal sin against the Golden Order, but t’is the only way.” To your and Lobo’s surprise, Ranni removes her white hat, revealing the pale blue, youthful face of the doll beneath. “It is mine wish to help thee reach thine goal. Iji knoweth of an ancient flame of the giants, one with enough power to burneth the thorns that block thine path away. I will assisteth thee in exchange for thine help.” Lobo crosses his arms, looking down at the flames. “Right… and if we refuse?” Ranni shakes her head. “Thou art free to refuseth mine help, but it truly is mine wish to help thee.” A skeptical hum. Lobo looks toward you for advice. You can picture the question in his mind: "Do you feel she's being honest?"

You shift your gaze over to the Princess. Ranni’s stoic as always, but the slight fidgeting with the edge of her hat’s rim, and her gaze wandering between the fire and Lobo’s face spoke of nervousness. At face value, she was being honest about her feelings, but you can’t discard the possibility of a trap. Your empathic abilities might be developed, but they’re not infallible. You look at Lobo, and through his gentle gaze you get the scope of his trust for you, and his trust in your ability. “Well… If he has that much faith in me, I think it would only do to have faith in myself as well” You think, and you give Lobo a slight nod. He looks down at the fire once more, turing things over in his mind before he finally breaks the tense silence between the three of you. “Alright… We’ll hear you out, but I can’t promise anything until I know what you expect in return.” Ranni’s bows her head respectfully, but she continues to avert Lobo’s gaze. “I thank thee…” It’s a quiet thing, but once again it sounds genuine. You can only hope this doesn’t bite you in the ass later.

“Thy task wouldst be concering this item.” The witch pulls out a small leather bag that sways on it’s own, almost as if trying to get away from her. She stands up and passes it to Lobo before returning to her seat. Lobo opens the bag, his eyes widen at the contents. With trembling fingers he reaches inside and pulls out a familiar grotesque blade made from bone. “The Fingerslayer Blade shall accept no other master…” Ranni says, putting her hat back in place.

“Slay the Two Fingers that hold us captive, and I shall deliver the Elden Throne to thee.”

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 3 years

Text

notoriously yours | jay park

✰ summary: jay park is a rich kid. it’s safe to say he has everything every broke college student on his campus could dream of and more. but the one thing he doesn’t have, which money definitely can’t buy, is a girlfriend. and his friends won’t see of it. literally.

so what happens when his friends bet him to date someone for more than three months? what happens when jay decides that fake-dating someone would be easier than actual dating (because god forbid Jay–the campus’ notoriously known fuckboy–decides to commit to something once in his life)?

and what happens when that someone is you, his childhood best friend he hasn’t spoken to in years..who has absolutely no interest in being in his life anymore?

✰ pairing: jay park x y/n [ft. members of enha]

✰ genre: fluff, comedy, angst | fakedating!au, college!au, childhoodbestfriends!au, (kinda) e2l!au

✰ warnings: cursing, nothing suggestive but jay's a fuckboy so slightly suggestive themes, mentions of parental neglect/leaving, it's hella long (and i thought my last fic was long)

✰ wc: 14.7k (how did i get it this long oh lord)

✰ author's note: picture creds go to original owners/editors! peep that edit of jay that lowkey inspired this entire fic 👀also this took me so, so long bc i lost motivation half way thru and bc college is a thing,,,so i honestly don't know how to feel abt it so pls bare with me :')))) ALSO the dividers are weird bc idk how to add more than 10 pics for the dividers so pls excuse those ٩(× ×)۶i hope u guys enjoy!! <333

⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺

Jay Park is a rich kid.

Jay Park has enough to buy every textbook he needs for his courses without having to look up the free versions online. Jay Park has enough to bribe his professors to let him pass every class with a perfect 4.0 GPA (but because the boy has morals, he doesn't). Jay Park has enough to afford a car to drive to his furthest class from his dorm building instead of walk or bike like every other college student, meaning he also has enough to afford a parking spot on campus (those things aren't cheap!).

Jay Park walks around your school's campus like he owns the place (and considering the amount of money his family has donated to the school, he practically does), looking like he just walked out of your local coffee shop's newest fashion magazine. His blonde hair is never seen untouched, his attire usually consisting of an undoubtedly high-end all-black fit, accessorized with multiple earrings and rings that probably cost more than all the overpriced textbooks you had to rent out this semester. It's safe to say that everyone knows Jay Park.

Bottom line is, Jay Park has everything.

Well, his friends beg to differ.

In their eyes, Jay Park has everything but a simple factor in the equation of love (or whatever love is to the minds of a couple of 19 year olds): commitment.

So yes, it's safe to say that everyone knows Jay Park. Because everyone knows he's the campus' rich fuckboy. (What's a college fanfic campus without one anyways?)

Jay doesn't go unreminded of this by his friends, to the boy's annoyance.

Jay is aware of this on a Sunday afternoon, in his dorm building's first floor lounge, where he and his said friends are having a study session.

They're doing anything but studying.

In fact, no one has any books out or anything. Not a single laptop in site.

"You don't think it's the slightly bit concerning?" Jake's words are muffled as he continues munching on the fried chicken that he spent majority of this study session debating if he should have it delivered through UberEats or not.

"I really don't, no," Jay shrugs as he continues mindlessly scrolling through his Instagram feed. They're having the same argument conversation that they've revisited multiple times over the course of their friendship, one that Jay has been lectured on too many times for his own good. He thinks his friends could become his new parents if they really tried.

"Look at it this way, okay. You're about to graduate college in a couple of years, into the big world. Like the actual, adult world. And that means you'll have to settle down. Which you can't do when you. have. no. commitment!" Jake punctuates each word with a single clap of his hands, desperate to get his point across.

Jay simply rolls his eyes. He looks over to Sunghoon, who's minding his own business, not bothered by the same topic he's heard over and over again. His eyes tell Jay you're on your own, in response to his blonde-haired friend's look of despair.

Jay thinks that maybe he should get new friends. Yes, that's the only solution here.

"My love life," Jay reaches across the table for a drumstick from the greasy tub seated in Jake's lap until Jake swats his hand away, "is none of your business. Also, ouch."

"Uh, it kinda is. Because of you and your reputation around campus, it kinda affects us, your best friends. How do you think we look, hanging out with the guy who's known to ghost every girl in existence after one night with them? No offense to you," Jake deadpans to him. Jay mentally reconsiders the term best friends.

Tough love. Jay tells himself it's tough love.

"Yes, because every girl totally hates Jake Sim, the teacher assistant of a physics class who volunteers at the pet shelter every Sunday and brings their pet golden retriever to campus every two weeks," Jay rolls his eyes at his Australian friend.

Jake sighs. "Okay, then I'm coming from a place of worry for you."

Jay groans. "Again, none of your business!" This doesn't stop Jake. He comes from good intentions, really, but Jay wants nothing more than to stuff the kid's mouth with some of that chicken to shut him up.

"What are you gonna do if one day you meet someone you like, genuinely like, and you screw yourself over because you've never been in an actual relationship before? A real, committed one. Like one that lasts at least three months."

"You don't think I can last three months in a relationship?" Jay questions the boy currently taunting him.

"Honestly? No. What's the longest relationship you've been in?" Jake cocks an eyebrow at his friend across from him.

One month and two weeks. But Jay's smart enough to not say that out loud.

"I can so last over three months," Jay mutters more to himself than Jake.

Jake laughs at that, pausing to take another bite of the drumstick in his hand. "Jay, I am willing to actually bet you. Bet that you wouldn't be able to." He leans back on the couch, the ball now in Jay's court.

Jay freezes, looking up from his phone, narrowing his eyes at Jake.

"Forget it, Jake. He's not gonna agree even if you offered him money," Sunghoon finally perches from beside him. Well he's not wrong. It's not like Jay is exactly in need of more money, per say.

"What kind of bet are we talking here?"

Sunghoon's right. Jay doesn't need the money, but he does hate being wrong. Even if it's over something as stupid as this matter.

Caught off guard by the blonde's answer, Jake blinks blankly at him and takes a second to think.

"Hmm..what about...what about if you can date someone for at least three months, and I mean an actual, committed relationship, then I'll do all of your physics homework next semester."

Jay's eyes sparkle at that. If there's anything he despises more than commitment, it's physics.

"And if I win, you have to buy all of my textbooks," Jake sits back from the edge of his seat with a smirk lying on his face.

Jay pauses to think about it. I mean, what does he have to lose? A couple hundred dollars over college textbooks? No. Because he just simply won't lose.

And maybe he'll learn what it'll be like to actually be in a committed relationship for once. Maybe he'll finally learn what it's like to actually devote yourself to someone, open up to them. He shivers at the thought. Never mind. He'll warm up to it. Baby steps.

Nonetheless, what could go wrong? Even if he does lose, at least his money would be going somewhere productive––towards his friend's education. Jay was probably gonna use that money on something useless like a blanket that resembles a tortilla (a burrito blanket, he calls it)––something he doesn't necessarily need, but must have, he would argue.

"Fine. Whatever, okay. Deal," he grabs Jake's extended hand in front of him and shakes on it.

Jake's impressively smiling at the boy as Sunghoon lets out a sigh, in disbelief with the two guys he calls his best friends.

Jay concludes that this will be easier than his Introduction to Photography 101 course he took his freshman year. How hard is it to find someone to date the Jay Park? Surely, everyone will be lining up once Jay switches his FaceBook relationship status from "it's complicated" to "single".

Turns out, it's not as easy as his class where all Jay had to do was take pictures of a pretty sunset, slap a VSCO filter on, and call it a day.

He comes to this realization on a Wednesday evening, as he's seated at one of the many study tables lined in the middle of the campus' library, staring down at his phone's dry iMessage app, with his laptop and blank sheets of scratch paper scrambled across the entire table, as an attempt to look half as studious as the other students studying in the facility.

Turns out, being known as the campus' fuckboy who ghosts every girl on campus isn't a good thing when it comes to wanting to find a real relationship.

He comes to this realization after failing to receive a single text back to the many ones he sent out throughout the first half of his day. The ghoster gets ghosted. Oh how the turn tables.

Jay groans dramatically as he tosses his phone on the hard surface of the table, earning himself a harsh shush from the librarian filing books in the aisle beside him.

He sheepishly smiles back as an apology, directing his attention back to his open laptop screen, where his untouched calculus homework stares back at him––his mind preoccupied with the looming threat of Jake's bet. Not that it was threatening in any way, per say, but Jay just hates losing. And from the looks of things, it's safe to say that Jay won't be celebrating any victories anytime soon.

Jay thinks he should just change his identity and just transfer to some boarding school in Switzerland. Yes, that's a much better solution than admitting defeat to Jake.

Jay sighs as he lies his head on the table, figuring he might as well just write the check for Jake's textbooks now. He wonders how he got here in the first place. Not how he got into the bet, and definitely not how he's sitting in the middle of the library, having yet to start his calculus homework due at 11:59PM tonight (he should really start that).

But no, he wonders how he gained the reputation as the campus' playboy. To be fair, his friends (mainly Jake), are constantly reminding him of his notorious habits. But how did they come a habit in the first place?

The idea of being in a relationship is nice, sure, but the commitment that comes with it? The idea of being dependent on someone? It's scary, vulnerable, and one that Jay can't picture for himself.

Maybe some people just aren't meant to be paired. Maybe some people, like Jay, like being independent and are meant to stay that way.

But Jay also likes affection. He likes the fleeting, warm feeling he gets every time he finds himself under someone's sheets. He likes the short-lived comfort he receives from someone else's touch, even though he knows it's going to cease to exist the second he steps out of those bedroom's doors. He just likes affection, simple as that.

That and he's a 19 year old teenage boy with needs, what did you expect?

And so what if he likes the idea of affection minus commitment? Is that so bad? Apparently it is, to people like his friends and the entirety of his school's campus, at least.

At this rate, he might as well pay someone to date him.

Wait. Jay lifts his head off the table's surface in realization.

He might as well pay someone to date him.

There's no harm in that, is there?

He wouldn't have to endure through an endless amount of dates to find someone he clicks with, then continue going on dates with said clicked person, all while trying to develop an actual, serious relationship.

He'll win the bet, get his physics homework done for an entire semester, and some lucky girl out there will be making profit for the small price of hanging out with Jay Park for three months.

And lucky for him, Jay knows the perfect candidate for this scheme.

Simple as that.

Just as long as said perfect candidate says yes.

And as long as Jake and Sunghoon don't find out. Or else Jay might really have to move to Switzerland after all.

You love your friends, you do.

Hana and Heeseung have been there for you when others haven't––they were by your side when you knew no one entering high school, and they were still by your side when you were all graduating said high school. Needless to say, you're eternally grateful for friends like them.

But right now, in this moment––with you seated in the middle of the campus' library, trying to write your essay, as your two friends blabber on and on about the most recent gossip across from you––your two friends could be your villain origin story.

But again, you love your friends, you do. So you don't have the heart to tell them to leave. You've managed to naturally tune out most of the conversation, anyways, for this––your friends coming to hang out while you're trying to study––is no rare occurrence by any means.

"Oh yeah, Jay Park texted me last night."

You hate how your brain's filter suddenly turns off at Hana's words.

You hate how your ears catch the sudden mention of Jay Park's name.

You hate how the thought of Jay Park gets to even occupy a single brain cell of yours.

You hate how you even know who Jay Park is. Well, knew.

Past tense. Because up until eighth grade––when Jay decided to just suddenly pretend you didn't exist––he was attached to you like a koala to a eucalyptus tree.

And if you had asked past Y/N, ideally, Jay would've never left your side. Ideally, he would've never left you to fend for yourself when entering high school. Ideally, he would've stayed your best friend through out all four years of high school and ideally, you would've eventually told him how you really felt about him after growing up with him all your life. And maybe it would've lead to a completely different story. But for the sake of this fic, we don't live in an ideal world.

So yes, if it wasn't for his attendance at the very same university as you, you would've forgotten about the boy who brought you the painful memories of your childhood.

And since the universe clearly doesn't work in your favor, avoiding Jay Park's existence like he's the plague would have to suffice. And it works.

For the most part.

Until some people, bring him up uninvited into your conversation. Like now, for example.

"When was the last time you guys talked anyways?" Heeseung mindlessly asks as he reaches across the table to grab one of the many snacks you usually bring to your study sessions.

"Uh..like a few weeks ago. Give or take. Whenever you threw your house party. Can't say there was much talking involved however," she teasingly says with a giggle and wiggle of her brows.

Heeseung's rolling his eyes as you scoff and chuck a nearby crumpled piece of paper that was once one of your many essay drafts at her.

She bats it away right as it's about to hit her face as she laughs. "Doesn't matter anyways. He ghosted me the next morning, as he does with everyone else. Telling you this now," she extends a finger right at you, "stay away from Jay Park. That kid's just bad news."

You nod in response, mentally telling her she has nothing to worry about.

Been there, done that.

College. Ah yes, the very concept of spending four years of your life imprisoned on a campus where you'll be tearing your hair out from stress and spending all your life's savings just for a laminated sheet of paper with a golden stamp at the end of it all. We live in a society.

Because of said college, and all the weight that comes along with it, you had adapted a strict daily schedule in order to not completely lose your mind. It's a simple schedule really, one of a typical college student who's just trying to get by everyday with as little mental breakdowns as possible.

Wake up, get ready, go to class, go to the library to do your homework, walk all the way across campus to get back to your dorm, shower, then sleep. Oh and eat, of course. And maybe if time permits, be an actual social being and socialize.

It's gotten you this far into the college life without dropping out so, you conclude, you must be doing something right.

Sometimes, if you're feeling nice to yourself, you'll tweak the schedule a bit to fit in some exceptions. Maybe squeeze in a little trip to the bubble tea shop that's on the other side of campus, or maybe get dinner at that one dining hall that you don't usually go to because of the unncessarily long lines (but because they serve ice cream, you go anyways). It doesn't matter what the exception is, you still plan it out to fit into your schedule somehow. Everything is planned out.

Sometimes, however, the universe disagrees with your schedule, to your demise. Such as today, for example.

Because what you didn't expect for today was for a particular blonde-haired boy who you haven't spoken to in almost six years (but who's counting?) to approach your table in the library––a table you were sure no one could find you at, as it was quietly tucked away in the back corner, right next to the Astrophysics shelves. Because who browses the Astrophysics aisle for fun? Actually, maybe Jake Sim would. Anyways.

You definitely didn't anticipate a visit from the boy you've been actively avoiding, so you definitely didn't expect the first words coming out of his mouth when he sees you for the first time in six years to be:

"Fake date me."

You blink up at him.

Yeah, definitely not expected.

But you only let it phase you for a split second, until you feel a slight annoyance beginning to bubble up deep inside of you.

"Wow, hello to you too Jay! It's been what––half a decade? Yeah I've been pretty good, thanks for asking!" The sarcasm is practically dripping off your tongue.

You don't know what runs through Jay's mind, but apparently it isn't common sense––or the ability to read the room. Because next thing you know, he's sliding the chair across from you out from underneath the table and making himself at home.

And he's smiling right at you.

Curse him and his smile.

But no, you're not giving into it.

Not yet, at least.

"What do you want?" You deadpan at him when he makes no sign of making the next move.

"A girlfriend," he deadpans right back at you, as if he was casually telling you what he wanted for dinner. As if you two were close-knit friends that could approach one another without any proper greeting. As if you two had kept your friendship all these years. As if you two even had a role in each other's lives.

"Can't help you there," you scoff, deciding to not even question his lack of manners on top of his uninvited presence.

"Aren't you gonna ask me why?"

"Well gee, seeing that the first few words you decided to say to my face for the first time in forever were a demand, a demand to date you no less, then....no," your monotone voice says as you keep your eyes focused on your laptop screen, not daring to look at the boy across from you.

In the Introduction to Sociology course you took your freshmen year, you had learned of one important term: interactional vandalism. Textbook definition being: "ignoring signals of disinterest in a conversation, leading it to an offense."

Your definition being: "are you oblivious or just plan dumb, read the room!"

This was interactional vandalism, alright. Whether Jay's truly oblivious or just trying to annoy you until your head explodes (it's really the former, but you're convinced it's the latter), he takes your signals of disinterest and tosses it right out of his head to continue the conversation.

"I'm stuck in this stupid bet with Jake--do you remember him? He bet me that I couldn't date someone for more than three months and I figured having someone fake date me would be easier than actually dating someone, right? That's where you come into the equation," he proposes as he leans back in his chair, as if he had just finished a sales pitch to a prospective customer looking to buy a car.

You couldn't believe this. You're 98% sure this has got to be a prank. You're mentally preparing for a camera crew to jump out from in-between the library's aisles any moment now and scream into your ears that you've just been punk'd!

The remaining 2% of you, however, wouldn't put it past the two boys to get themselves in such a situation. The last memory you had of Jay and his friends were pretty much their childish selves back in middle school. And by looking at the current scene unfolding in front of you...it's needless to say they haven't changed much.

"Again, can't help you there. Ask one of the many girlfriends I thought you had." Ouch.

"But Y/N, you've known me all your life--"

"Up until you dropped me a few years ago but sure, let's call it that."

"--and convincing other people is gonna make me look--"

"--desperate? Yeah."

"C'mon, Y/N. What do you have to lose anyways?"

"Uh..my dignity? Pride? Self-respect? Sorry Jay, not happening," you turn your attention back to your unwritten essay in front of you, mentally checking out of this conversation. This would be a good time for that camera crew to jump out now.

"Look, no one else is gonna do it, Y/N." Jay has always been stubborn, you suppose. But so are you.

"Yeah, because you've managed to push every being of the opposite gender away from you. You gave yourself this reputation in the first place," you give it to him straight. It's not like you had a relationship with him to uphold anyways––Jay himself broke that friendship years ago.

Jay hates that you're right.

You're always right. He remembers how he used to always go to you for advice and clarity on the world's biggest problems. Granted, the world's biggest problems to him at the time equated to what he should dress up as for the fifth grade Halloween party, but still. A tough decision, for the mind of a ten-year-old.

You abruptly stop typing and begin putting your laptop and textbooks away as you huff in frustration. There's no point in trying to get your work done now. The longer you stay arguing with Jay, the bigger your headache gets. The longer he continues to occupy any part of your brain, the bigger your headache gets.

Getting up from your seat, packed and ready to slam your head into your pillow, you turn to the blonde one last time.

"Look Jay. We went on our separate ways years ago. If you weren't so notoriously known around campus and my friends would stop talking about you, I would've long forgotten you. I'm sorry you're in this situation, really. If I were you, I'd just tell Jake I can't do it. Or don't, I can't tell you what to do. Just don't get some innocent girl involved in whatever stunt of yours this is."

Jay stares at you, mouth agape, as you find your way out of the library and through the main doors. By the time he comes back to his senses, he realizes how he looks plain stupid––standing in the middle of the library, the look on his face screaming befuddlement, to say the least. Jay quickly makes his way out of the building, in hopes of convincing you one last time.

Jay catches sight of your figure already half-way down the walkway that connects the library to the main quad of your school's campus. Geez, you walk fast.

Not fast enough to outrun Jay's legs, however. If Jay running after you through the middle of campus in order to convince you to fake date him doesn't show how desperate he is to win this bet, I don't know what will.

"Wait, Y/N!"

You groan to yourself before turning to face the boy who can't seem to take a hint and leave you alone. You stare at his out-of-breath state as he heaves up and down from the slight jog he had to endure to get to where you are. If you're humored by him chasing after you, you do a good job of hiding it.

He meets your unimpressed state before stating his final proposition: "I'll pay you. Five hundred dollars."

You nearly stop breathing.

Now this catches your attention––after all, you're but a broke college student who's just trying to survive. And preferably not by feeding yourself instant ramen cups every night.

And so, naturally, you begin rethinking about the opportunity presented in front of you. You narrow your eyes at the boy as you weigh your options.

The first problem being, it's Jay Park––the bane of your very existence. You spent the last few years of your life pretending he didn't exist...for good reason. Not only did he do you dirty when you were merely a couple of 13-year-olds, but you just didn't want to be involved with someone like him. Someone known for his nature, someone who left your own current best friend ghosted. And not that Hana herself would care, for she has called herself the "female Jay Park", but you're sure this would be breaking some rule in the girl code handbook. Plus, if you agree to this, you'd be betraying 13-year-old Y/N, the one who decided to never speak to nor think of Jay Park again––which by now you've failed, but you get the gist.

Second problem being, three months is a long time. Three months is practically the rest of this semester, and did you really want to spend the rest of the semester tied down to the label of being Jay Park's girlfriend? There would have to be some negative connotations that came along with that title, right? No offense to Jay, but being his first girlfriend since, what, high school could make you come off as..naive, for lack of a better term. As if the only person you could settle for was Jay Park. As if you barely had any standards for yourself. Again, no offense to Jay.

Needless to say, if your school's debate club had to argue on why you shouldn't be doing this, you're sure the negating side could win with these two reasons alone.

But before you're rejecting the boy currently standing in front of you one last time, you find yourself mentally listing rebuttals.

First of all, you'd be getting paid. And again, you're merely but a college student living the stereotypical broke college student life––burdened by the costs of tuition, textbooks, and midnight McDonalds runs for when you're out of aforementioned instant ramen cups. Five hundred dollars could provide you with more than enough chicken McNuggets to last you the semester, and maybe some more to treat yourself to an online shopping spree.

Second of all, it's not like you were going to do anything better with your next three months anyways. It's safe to say you were too busy being a diligent student to actually look for anyone to date, per say. And if anything, having a fake boyfriend might actually be helpful in your case. Your mom would be off your ass about how you're still single, for one. And two, your friends (though it's really just Heeseung) would stop trying to hook you up on blind dates with guys that you would choose Jay Park over any day (and that really says something).

Third of all, it's Jay Park. As much as you despise the kid, you still know him. He's not a complete stranger to you, no matter how much you try to deny it. It could be worse, it could be a complete rando asking you to date him. At least you two have some sort of history, which would take care of the typical small talk and getting to know each other bit of this equation. And truth be told, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you weren't a tad bit satisfied by the fact that Jay chose you, of all people, to pull off this stunt with him. You don't know if it's the nostalgia of your childhood memories rushing back to you, but it reminds you of the endless schemes you two used to plan behind your parents' backs all the time. Granted, your childhood schemes––such as the both of you faking sickness so you could skip school together––don't even fall close to being in a fake relationship with one another, but still. It's the thought that counts.

All of those reasons plus, Jay isn't the worst to look at. He may have a spoiled reputation, but at least he has his looks going for him, you'll give him that (you're still secretly wondering when and how did he get his glow up, but don't tell him that).

And so by the guidelines of a college student's logic that states the pros outweigh the cons, you come to the overarching conclusion that maybe, this won't be so awful after all.

"Five hundred?" You ask, just for clarification. Jay's immediately nodding at your words. You continue to ponder on your thoughts as he stares at you hopefully.

The silent atmosphere of your campus heightens the tension so much, you swear you're in one of those overdramatic pausing scenes that occur too many times in k-dramas.

You sigh, then nod.

"Okay," you're internally praying that you won't regret this decision. "I'm in."

The next time you see Jay is at 12:17PM on a Friday afternoon, as you're exiting the doors of the lecture building that's home to your awfully long Capitalism in the Western World class.

You're going down the steps of the building, mentally deciding where and what you're going to treat yourself to for lunch––as the three hour lecture you had just attended drained all the life and energy out of you––when you hear the slight call of your name.

Turning to the source, you're met with a waving Jay, leaning against the passenger's side of his car, parked in front of the lecture hall building you were currently leaving.

Great.

You walk over to where he's casually waiting––he's unaware of all the stares he's attracted from fellow students leaving the same lecture as you. Can you blame them? It's not everyday you see a sleek, black BMW that probably cost more than your tuition pull up in front of your Friday afternoon lecture. It's not everyday you see Jay Park waiting for anyone outside of his said sleek, black BMW that probably cost more than your tuition.

"Hi," you simply let out as you plant yourself in front of him, not sure whether or not to question him why are you here? Surely, he wasn't waiting for you?

"Hi," he smiles down at you. There's a beat of silence. "I was waiting for you."

Bingo.

"Oh. What are you, my chauffeur?" You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Maybe. I am your boyfriend, after all," he says into the air, loud and clear, as if he wanted people to hear. Well that is the point, you suppose.

But still, all you want to do is smack the smirk right off his face.

Before you have time to put your next question into words, he answers it for you.

"I'm taking you out for lunch," he declares as if you have nothing else planned for the day. Well, to be fair, you didn't have anything else planned for the day. Except for your usual library run. But you figure the library could wait.

"Oh, like on a date?" You raise your eyebrows teasingly at him as you get into the car, Jay holding the door wide open for you. "Is Jay Park treating me to lunch as a date?"

Jay fights the scowl (or is that a smile?) growing on his face as he bends down to meet your eye level from inside the car. "Don't flatter yourself, princess. We've got fake lives to live."

"Call me princess one more time and you won't have a real life to live," you flash him a sarcastic smile and slam the door in his face.

Jay meets his own shocked reflection on the passenger's side window.

Cute.

"When you said you were taking me out to lunch, I expected like...I don't know...the diner on campus. Not whatever this is," you mutter to Jay as the two of you are brought to your table by a waitress at an upscale sushi restaurant, one that is undoubtedly out of your usual budget, but for sure an upgrade from your dining hall's pizza you were planning to have. You should've figured as much, the drive here was a little more than out of the way from campus, and who are you kidding, it's Jay Park you're eating with.

You stare down at your current outfit, which consisted of a hoodie you've owned since your junior year of high school and leggings that you threw on without second thought this morning––because you didn't exactly wake up and decide I'm going to go to a fancy sushi bar for lunch today!

"Why are we here anyways?" You ask him when you're both settled in your seats and the waitress walks away after listing the chef's specials for the day.

"Oh, they have killer dragon rolls here, you have to try it," Jay tells you nonchalantly as his eyes rake the menu in front of him, blocking your view of him.

How dense can one be? Your hand snatches his menu as you stare into his unamused eyes.

"No, Jay. I mean, why are we here? It's not like anyone's around to see us put on a show anyways."

"Oh. I figured," Jay's quick to grab the menu back from out of your hands as he continues, "that we should sit down and establish how exactly we're going to deliver this performance. After all, you're stuck with me for the next three months."

Again, smacking the smirk currently resting on his face would satisfy you beyond relief. Just once.

"If I drop out halfway through, do I still get $250?" You tease, leaning back.

"Ha ha. Funny. No," he narrows his eyes at you from across the table. "It's all or nothing."

You dramatically huff to make a show just for his annoyance.

"Worth a try. But sure, let's solidify this. What's the game plan?" You sit up in your seat, leaning over the table as if the two of you were hosting a secret meeting.

"It's simple really," Jay mirrors your actions, face leaning in close to where yours is hovering over the table. "Just pretend to be deeply in love with me for three months, and try not to actually be charmed by my cunning looks."

If someone gave you five dollars for every time you've already rolled your eyes at him today, you wouldn't even need to be in this deal for the five hundred dollars.

"Wow, smooth. Can I just remind you you're the one paying a girl to be in a fake relationship with you because you're just not competent enough to find an actual girlfriend?" You lean back, arms crossing over your figure.

Jay, unfazed, laughs, tongue briefly hitting the inside of his cheek. "Touché."

Your eyes go back to the menu in front of you as a silence falls over the table. Because you're not a loaded trust fund baby who comes to fancy five-star sushi restaurants for lunch on a daily, you don't recognize half of the entree names on the menu. You spot the dragon roll Jay suggested, but seeing that a basic California roll is less expensive, your natural broke-college-student-instincts figure the California roll shall do.

"Okay, in all seriousness," Jay begins as he puts his menu down. "It's simple really. We'll just go on weekly dates and post cute pictures of each other once in a while and a little after three months, I'll just say it didn't work out. I'll give you the five hundo and boom, we move on with our lives."

It's clear Jay's put some thought into this. Safe to say he's put more effort planning this out than the amount of work he's been putting into his classes. Someone's got their priorities straight.

You're impressed to say the least––you figured Jay would just be the kind to go with the flow and wait for the situation to unfold on its own and maybe blow up into flames. But seeing as he was just as serious about winning this bet as you were with making five hundred dollars, your doubts about this entire situation were slowly withering away.

Don't get it wrong, though, you still despise him. To an extent, at least.

"And don't worry about the dates. I'll pay on your behalf, as the loving, doting boyfriend I am," Jay finishes with a wide, cheesy smile you can't help but return a growing smile back at.

"Well then, as the loving, doting girlfriend I am, I shall gift you coffee, breakfast, all that fun couple stuff, whenever you please. Or maybe unannounced, if I'm feeling nice," you figure you should pitch in as much if he's paying for all your dates. And deep down, you find the idea kinda cute. But don't tell anyone that.

"Wow, look at us. We should become Dispatch's couple of the year already!" Jay exclaims, earning himself a small giggle from you, which pleases him to say the least. He thinks that maybe when this is all over, he'll hopefully make a good friend (well, for the second time) out of it.

And you're thinking that maybe the next three months won't be as bad as you initially had thought.

As the two of you delve deep into a debate about who would be the better significant other to each other, the waitress comes over to take your orders.

And because you're laughing and Jay's brightly smiling at you from across the table, you order the dragon roll.

The second time Jay takes you out––this time he gives you a heads up to get ready––it's at a, once again, high-class steakhouse.

The third time, you insist on the on-campus diner that's popular amongst the student population. Partially because you feel bad for the amount of money he's spent on you (even though he couldn't care less), but mostly because if you have to put on another fancy dress to just eat an overpriced meal that doesn't even fully satisfy your hunger, you might lose your mind.

And by this third time, Jake is aware of this newly blossomed relationship.

"Three dates! I didn't know you had it in you, going on three dates with the same girl!" Jake excitedly exclaims as he jumps into the empty spot on Jay's dorm bed and shoves his phone's screen into Jay's face.

The smaller screen displays Jay's most recent Instagram post: an image of you sitting behind your too-small-to-be-this-expensive-steak and smiling right into Jay's camera––a memory that brings a smile to his face:

~ ~ ~

"C'mon! We said Instagram posts would be a part of the deal! How else can we convince people we're dating?" A pout rests on Jay's face as he stares at you from across the table in the middle of the extravagantly decorated restaurant he picked out for your second date. You remember your eyes bulging out of their own sockets when you saw the "$$$$$" rating Yelp gave the place when you searched it up earlier.

"Okay, okay! One picture," you give in, already slightly annoyed that you were here instead of the comfort of your own bed, where you could be rewatching your favorite Netflix show for the third time. But because you made a deal and because you're desperate for money, you had to follow through––so here you were.

You flash an unconvincing smile to Jay's camera, which doesn't satisfy him, to say the least. "At least pretend you're somewhat enjoying this date," he frowns at you.

You sigh, until a thought crosses your mind and a smile grows on your face. "Only if you get me boba afterwards."

He narrows his eyes at you, but then meets your smile. "Sure, whatever you want. But only because I've been craving some mango milk tea lately."

"You're a fruit milk tea kind of guy? Sorry, but I might have to fake break-up with you," you tease as you take a sip of your overpriced drink to go with your overpriced meal.

Jay scoffs, feigning hurt by placing his hand over his heart. "Ouch. But before you break up with me, let me get this Instagram post in."

"Wow. Your priorities are so straight," you roll your eyes at him, eliciting a cheeky smile from him as he watches you through his held up phone screen.

"3,2,1."

"Hey, I wasn't ready! That was like mid-laugh!" You reach over the table to grab the phone, but not quick enough for him to put his phone back into his pants' pocket.

"Nope, nuh uh," he laughs as you quickly sit back down into your seat, not wanting to cause a scene in an establishment as proper as this one.

"It's fine. It's a good picture, you look cute," he casually lets out, unaware of the blush rising to the surface of your cheeks, thanks to the fact that you were suddenly interested in playing with the left-over food on your plate.

"Jay! Delete it, I'll let you take another one," you whine from your seat, imagining just how bad a candid picture of you could be.

"Ugh, fine. Ever so picky." He playfully rolls his eyes at you as he takes his phone out and opens the camera app as you prepare yourself.

"Okay, how's this?" Jay turns the phone screen to you after he takes a few snaps on his phone.

"I approve," you grin at him as he goes through the pictures himself, unaware of the smile growing on his face.

"Okay now delete the first one," you point your finger at him, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Okay, okay! Bossy," he laughs as he raises in hands in surrender.

When Jay gets home that night, he recovers the image from his Recently Deleted folder, telling himself it's for the sake of the memory.

Obviously.

~ ~ ~

"It's not that big of a deal," Jay mutters from his spot as his eyes go from the Instagram post to his Exile and Belonging in Modern Literature reading that's due tomorrow, bright yellow highlighter in hand. Typically, you'd find the reading buried deep at the bottom of his school backpack. But because Jay ran into you this morning and because he complained to you about the amount of work he's fallen behind on and because you had threatened him to do his work or else you're not going on another date––a fake date that is––with him, he figured he should at least get one reading done and annotated, despite his strong dislike for highlighters (they hurt his eyes, okay?)

What he doesn't know, however, is how your threat was completely full of bluff––but don't tell him that.

"It is so a big deal, for you at least!" Jake hops off the bed and lands on the wooden floors of Jay's dorm room so hard, Jay winces and sends a mental apology to the poor person who lives below him.

Jake suddenly gasps. "I have to meet her, Jay! As your best friend, it's practically mandatory that I meet her."

Jay opens his mouth to protest, but not before Jake interrupts him once again. "Oh! We can bring Sunghoon too, it'll be so fun! The best friends meet the girlfriend."

Jay can't think of anything worst. Jay imagines that bringing you to meet his best friends would just intimidate you out of dating him––fake dating him, that is. Obviously.

He stares at his friend in agony then back at the reading in front of him––the one Jake said he'd come over to help annotate, but the intention completely left Jake's head the second he heard about Jay's recent dating life.

"You don't have to meet her," Jay says pointedly. "Plus, you already know her."

Jake frowns at his friend's excuse. "Yeah, but that was in middle school! This is different."

Jay's hands shuffle through the reading's pages in front of him as he realizes there's no way the two of them are going to finish the assignment at this point. He supposes he'll have to save death by blindness from highlighters for another day and hope you still agree to go out with him.

Jake suddenly gasps in realization.

"Oh my gosh! Childhood best friends turned college sweethearts," Jake says so dreamily, he might as well plaster heart eyes on. Hopeless romantic, this one.

Before Jay can argue, the piercing sound of three loud knocks echo through the small room, followed with a:

"Jay, are you in? It's me!"

Jay stills at the sound of your sweet voice. He whips his head to Jake, who is also frozen in place.

But the widened-eye boy is quick to come to his senses––unfortunately quicker than Jay himself––because the next thing Jay knows, Jake's eyes are lighting up and he's running to the door, ignoring Jay's screaming whispers through this seething teeth that were somewhere along the lines of Jake––stop, I swear to god if you open that door I'm gonna fucking--

"Y/N!" Jake swings the door wide open, revealing an overly excited him and a frozen Jay half-way to the door, as if he was about to grab the very boy welcoming you in. It's as if we're living in a Sims game and the player clicked pause on this very moment.

Jake's eyes are wildly going back and forth between you and your supposed boyfriend, as if he was waiting for Jay to run over and smother you in hugs and kisses...or something couple-y like that. Jay wouldn't know.

"Uh––hi," you're awkwardly standing inside the room now, a relatively large paper brown bag resting in your palms as you look around for a surface to place it on. Jay makes his way to you without a second thought, quickly taking the bag out of your hold.

"You seemed stressed out earlier, so I figured I could bring you some food as a little pick me up. I didn't know what you liked, so I kinda just got a little of everything from the dining hall. Nothing fancy," you're rambling, but smiling so excitedly at him, Jay doesn't know what to say.

Instead, his mouth slightly drops open as he stares at you in awe, mostly because he's not used to being on the receiving end of such spontaneously generous actions––all while Jake's still excitedly looking back and forth between the two of you, as if he was expecting a marriage proposal to come next.

"Oh wow. Thank you. Really," Jay, still touched by your simple act of kindness, softly says as he places the bag on the limited amount of empty space on his desk surface––the rest of it is covered with his untouched textbooks and unfinished assignments. He wonders if you did this out of playing your role or just because you wanted to. He internally hopes it's the latter. "Seriously, you didn't have to do."

"Nah, don't worry. I wanted to," you shrug with such a genuine smile that Jay realizes he actually missed your smile.

Despite having seen you during your brief run-in this morning when you were fetching your morning coffee, Jay realizes he missed you. The two of you haven't been seeing each other recently because of your busy schedule and if Jay didn't realize it before, he's now sure he missed your company and presence around.

Weird.

"Well, you two have fun! Sunghoon needs me for something," Jake suddenly chirps from his place near the front door, halfway through with putting his shoes on already, breaking the comforting silence that fell between the two of you.

Jay frowns. "But you said you were free all da––"

"SUNGHOON IS CALLING BYE!" And before Jay can even register what's happening, Jake's out the door without another word.

"Er..sorry about him, he's...weird," Jay scratches the back of his neck as he returns to his spot on his bed, mentally setting a reminder to yell at Jake later for leaving the two of you alone. Jay doesn't know exactly why, but he's nervous at the fact that you're here in his room. It's not like you two are complete strangers––or whatever you guys were before––anymore. "Good job on your part, though. How'd you know Jake was here?"

"Oh uh, I didn't"," you let out an awkward laugh. "I just felt like doing it."

Heat rushes to Jay's cheeks and he's not sure 1) what this newfound feeling is and 2) how to respond, yet again.

Having expecting you to leave after dropping the food off, Jay's taken by surprise when you take your shoes off and come over to his bed to look at the pile of work he's spread out.

"Is this everything you have to do?" You question the stressed-out boy as you flip through the various assignments, readings, and essays he put off in the past week.

"More or less," he groans. This is no rare occurrence by any means––Jay being behind in his work––but this time, Jay realizes he may actually be in deep shit, considering he has no idea where to begin.

Right as Jay's expecting a scolding from you, he looks up to meet a look of sympathy on your face. "Well, I mean, I'm pretty much done with my day. I can try to help, I recognize some of these readings from last semester."

Jay thinks to himself that the universe has sent him an angel through the form of you.

"Really? Wow, you were't kidding when you said you'd be a good girlfriend," he sends you a surprised look.

"I'm just being nice, Jay. A concept I'm sure you're not familiar with," you remark back at him, causing his forming smile to grow into a laugh.

"I can too be nice! Need I remind you of who's paying you $500, covering all of our dates AND giving you rides to class everyday?" He remarks pointedly at you, a teasing look resting in his eyes as you're reminded of the first of many times he's come to pick you up before class:

~ ~ ~

You're late.

This never happens.

But then again, your life's been a series of unexpected occurrences lately. Such as the fact that you're currently known as Jay Park's girlfriend, for one.

You're scrambling out of bed once you take one look at your phone and realize shit, you're already late for class. Throwing on whatever articles of clothing your eyes land on first, you're already mentally groaning at the fact that you'll have to skip breakfast and run across your campus to get to said class.

Curse your professor for hosting her lecture at the furthest possible building away from your dorm. Curse the architect who decided to make your campus so large.

You're running down the steps outside of your dorm building's doors when you're abruptly stopped by a familiar sounding cough. You look up from trying to gather all your belongings together at once to meet the gaze of the source of the sound––Jay.

"Wow, you're a mess," he smirks as he gets up from the spot on his car he was leaning against to make his way over to you.

"Gee, thanks! Good morning to you too," you flash him a sarcastic smile before your default frown quickly makes it way back onto your face.

"Aren't you gonna ask me why I'm here?" He grins as he grabs hold of your backpack to sling it across his own back as the two of you walk towards his car.

"Why are you here, Jay?" you sigh, your sarcastic tone hard to miss.

"To give you a ride to class, of course!" He's beaming at you, as if he's a pre-pubescent teen who just won their first girlfriend a prize from the arcade's claw machine.

Oh. That explains the car, you figure. Deep down inside, you're relieved that you'll no longer be bursting through the lecture hall's doors as a sweaty mess––a result of having to run across campus to get to class.

Determined to not let your satisfaction completely show, you resort with a little smile directed towards Jay as he opens the passenger door for you.

The second your enter Jay's car, the strong scent of coffee hits you, and your attention is targeted at the two small cups of coffee sitting in the cupholders of the car.

"Breakfast?" Jay asks as he enters through the driver's side and reaches into the backseat to whip out a small pastry bag. A small, deliciously smelling, pastry bag.

Okay, well. You suppose you could drop the annoyed act now.

Your eyes widen with joy as you grab the bag from him and open it to reveal your favorite breakfast sandwich. He's been taking notes, you'll give him that point.

"Okay, you win. Thank you," you grace him with a soft smile before taking a bite into the glorious gift in your hands.

"Of course, I was just feeling nice," he grins at you as he starts his car. "But don't get used to it." His tone is serious, but his smile directed towards you says differently.

And the fact that he still showed up to drive you to class the next morning.

And the next.

~ ~ ~

"And need I remind you who has to date your dumb ass for the $500 in question?" Your eyes narrow at the boy who can't seem to get that damn smile off his face.

Jay sticks his tongue out at you, ending the conversation. Really Jay? What are you, five? Well, mentally––probably.

You're looking around his minuscule dorm room for a place to sit down, and Jay can't help but feel embarrassed now that you're here, in his messy single studio room that pretty much reflects how Jay treats every other responsibility of his oh so hard life: neglected.

"Uh...here, you can sit on my bed," Jay immediately offers as he moves to the side to make room for your presence––and it isn't much, considering the university only provided him a twin XL bed which is definitely not built for two grown college-aged kids.

If you told yourself a few weeks ago that you'd be shoulder to shoulder on a bed belonging to the guy you cringed at the very thought of, you wouldn't have believed yourself. You wouldn't have believed yourself if you said you were actually glad Jay let you stay instead of kicking you out after delivering the food. Huh.

Weird.

"You know, this kinda reminds me of when we were kids. I always carried us through those horrible multiplication tests in the fifth grade," you wink at him as you settle in the spot next to him, hands grabbing hold of the papers in his lap.

Jay let out a laugh, nudging your shoulder with his. "Hey! The twelve times table is hard, okay?"

You roll your eyes at him––a habit of yours he's noticed whenever the two of you are together, but more recently, he thinks it's been more out of fun than annoyance.

He wonders why.

When Jay had first brought up the idea of bringing you as his date to his father's company dinner, you had expected a fairly fancy five-star restaurant with a formal dress code––for you've become accustomed to Jay's lifestyle. Turns out, your expectations can continue to be exceeded. Because what you had expected to be a simple dinner with a few other business men and women turned out to be an entire party, hosted in a hotel whose interior resembled something close to a castle (Or what you assume a castle looks like, as you've never personally been into a castle yourself, but this hotel is close enough).

Your eyes sparkle at the extravagant columns and diamond chandeliers hanging high above you, and Jay smiles at the expression on your face; like a little girl being brought to the amusement park for the first time ever.

"Wow, this is...wow," you mutter as you drink in the scene in front of you: people dressed in formal attire likewise to yours and Jay's, mingling and drinking what you imagine to be beverages that cost more than your entire life's worth.

Jay laughs from behind you, "Yeah the company goes a little...extra when it comes to these company dinners."

You scoff as you look up at him. "Oh really, you don't say?" You look around and you're suddenly aware of the many people surrounding the two of you and the attention you've acquired ever since entering the building.

"Jay, people are staring." You shuffle closer to him, your voice lowering down to a whisper.

"Well, it's not everyday the son of the company's CEO brings his girlfriend with him, so...looks like we'll be the talk of the party tonight. Smiles on," he winks at you, and you just know he's loving the attention the two of you are receiving right now.

"Jay Park? Is that you?" You hear a warm voice call out from behind the two of you.

The two of you turn around to meet the owner of the voice, a middle-aged woman dressed in an evening gown that matches the pattern of high-end brands you've been recognizing ever since arriving.

"Mrs. Lee! It's so nice seeing you again," Jay cheerily addresses the woman as the two of you bow in greeting.

You internally giggle at the thought of your Jay being so picture-perfect in the eyes of his father's co-workers.

"This is Y/N," he continues, his hand finding its way to your back, protectively resting it there as you go to introduce yourself. "My girlfriend."

You swear you feel goosebumps rise from where he's lightly touching you, and more so when he introduces you as his girlfriend.

You tell yourself it's just your nerves. Yes, that's it, you're just nervous. I mean, you're in a room filled with people who could easily pay off all your college loans with just a snap of their fingers, who wouldn't be nervous? Right? Right.

"Y/N! It's a pleasure to finally meet you, I've heard so much about you!" Mrs. Lee excitedly exclaims as you turn to Jay with a slightly confused look plastered on your face. He mirrors your expression as he shrugs, moving to stand behind you completely, bringing his hands to rest lowly at your hips.

His hands feel like feathers on the thin fabric of your evening gown, so light, so delicate, as if he's unsure if he's crossing a line. It leaves you wanting more, wanting to naturally lean against him and his warmth. You quick to shake the thought of your head as Mrs. Lee chirps up again.

"Jay's father is always talking about how you've been keeping Jay pleasantly busy nowadays! Good thing too, about time this poor boy settle down for someone as beautiful as you," the woman rambles on as you feel a blush creep up on your cheeks at the thought of Jay talking about you to his dad. If only they knew.

"We should probably go find our seats, I think the dinner is beginning soon," Jay says from behind you, saving the two of you from having to listen to Mrs. Lee's story of how she's known Jay ever since he was five years old and seeing him grow into this mature, loving, young man is so amazing. Oh look! I have baby pictures.

Yeah, he was more so saving himself from embarrassment.

The two of you bid your goodbyes before Jay gently uses the hand on your back to maneuver you through the crowd of socializing business moguls.

"She's not wrong, you know," you feel Jay dip his head so he's speaking near your ear, his warm breath tickling your earlobe, as the two of you make your way through the large foyer room.

"Hm?" You hum in question, turning your head up just enough to be able to make eye contact with him as he responds to your look of confusion.

"You look beautiful tonight," he says, eye contact not breaking once. You freeze in your steps.

You stare back at him in silence. Oh.

Your mind is panicking as it flips through your mental book of responses, unsure of what to say back. But because your mind is cloudy from staring at a put-together Jay in a dark navy suit to match your dress (mixed with the nervous butterflies in your stomach––have they always been there?), the only sound that's able to leave your lips is the small stutter of a:

"Huh?"

Wow Y/N, you had one job. A simple "thank you" could've sufficed! And you went with "Huh"?

You felt like a fifth grader who just learned from a friend of a friend of a friend that their crush likes them back.

"U-um. Mrs. Lee. What she said about you. You look good, really," somehow your nervousness made its way over to Jay now––his eyes flickering from yours to anywhere, anything, else in the room––the awkward tension growing tenfold each second.

Goddamnit Y/N, this is just Jay you're talking to, get a grip.

You're knocked back into reality when he slightly nudges your back to continue making your way to the main ball room, where the dinner is being held.

"Is that a compliment from the Jay Park?" Your smirk can't be seen by Jay, since he's still trailing behind you, but he can definitely hear it through your tone.

"Don't make me take it back," he chuckles, his words felt against your neck, leaving behind a tingly sensation you're not sure why you're feeling. You're glad he's behind you, so he isn't able to see the blush creeping onto your face for the second time tonight.

Jay gives a small nod to the people behind the check-in desk stationed at the entrance as the two of you waltz right into a large ball room lined with countless circular dining tables. So much for a small business dinner.

As the two of you approach one of the tables placed at the front of the room, you notice a familiar figure seated next to the seats reserved for you and Jay.

"Y/N!" Jake exclaims as he gets up from his seat to greet the both of you. "I'm so glad you made it, Jay was so excited to bring you tonight. Deadass would not stop talking about it."

Jay lets out a noise that falls somewhere between a cough and a goose being strangled, his widened eyes warning his talkative friend to just shut up. He's silently cursing the company for always seating his and Jake's family at the same table for these events.

"Aw, is that so? He's lucky he's cute or else I wouldn't have agreed," you grin, winking at your assumed boyfriend sitting next to you.

"Hey, YOU were the one excited to come! I recall a certain someone's face lighting up when I suggested we go shopping for tonight," Jay immediately retorts.

"Only because you were buying," you giggle, causing Jake to laugh as well.

"Damn, Jay. Tough," Jake jokingly adds as you laugh alongside him. The scowl sitting on Jay's face expresses the opposite of what he's feeling right now: warmth filling him up from the sound of your laughter and the image of you getting along so well with his best friend.

"I'm gonna get us some drinks, you two have fun making fun of me," Jay narrows his eyes at the two of you as he gets up from his seat. You bid him off with a smile before turning back to Jake.

"No but really though, this boy would not stop talking about you coming tonight. Then again, he doesn't really ever stop talking about you," Jake nonchalantly says, not knowing how much he was exposing his friend to you right now.

You raise an eyebrow up in response, "Oh really?"

"Seriously! I don't know what you did to him, Y/N, but this Jay I've been seeing recently is new. He complains a lot less about life nowadays, especially on the days he sees you," he leans back in his chair as his comment brings a smile to your face. Little does he know.

You stretch your neck up to find the boy in question and spot him right as he's returning to your shared table, two drinks in hand. You lock eyes with him from across the room and without a second thought, you're giving him a genuine smile that he's immediately returning.

Your heart beats faster at the view.

You wonder why.

It's 3:07AM when you hear the first ding.

You're not 100% sure as of why you're awake at this hour on a Tuesday night––perhaps a combination of your restless thoughts and feelings not letting you sleep plus the typical stress that comes hand-in-hand with the life of a college student.

It's 3:09AM when you hear the second ding, and you brush it off, assuming it was just Heeseung spamming you with memes again––something he does often when he also can't sleep (you found this out the hard way).

It's still 3:09AM when you hear the third ding, and at 3:10AM , you finally reach over and decide to acknowledge the being who's bothering you at this godforsaken hour.

Jay [3:07AM]: Y/N

Jay [3:09AM]: hi

Jay [3:09AM]: r u awake rn

Y/N [3:10AM]: unfortunately so

Y/N [3:11AM]: why are you up

Jay [3:11AM]: come outside

Y/N [3:13AM: jay it's 3am

Jay [3:13AM]: ye and? don't tell me ur a college student with a curfew

Jay [3:14AM]: plus im alrdy waiting for u outside so u have no choice

Jay [3:15AM]: :)

You groan at your bright phone screen currently illuminating your dark dorm room.

You ponder the consequences you may have to suffer tomorrow if you stay up any later than you already have. But considering the fact that you're probably just going to stay awake lying in bed for god knows how long anyways, why not?

(And you would like to point out that this decision has nothing to do with the fact that you haven't seen Jay in a few days and that maybe a tiny, tiny, tiny, part of you may have missed his presence. Nothing.)

And since that logic is obviously valid (you really gotta work on justifying your life choices), you're suddenly grabbing a hoodie from your closet and hoping it'll be enough to keep you, who's merely in an old band t-shirt from high-school and pajama shorts, warm.

The breeze hits your skin the second you open the doors to your dorm's building, and you're met with the view of Jay's sleek, black BMW that probably costs more than your tuition. He waves at you from the driver's seat, motioning for you to get in.

"To what do I owe you the pleasure at this hour," you deadpan at him with a stone-cold voice as you enter through the passenger's side door, hoping your tone was enough to hide the fact that you're giddy at the fact he invited you out at 3AM in the morning. Like a high-school girl sneaking out of her house to meet up with her bad-boy boyfriend that her parents dislike.

The second you enter his car, you're instantly comforted by the warm air blasting through his vents and his playlist softly playing in the background. Jay's pajama pants and messy hair give you more than enough information to know that he probably just rolled out of his own bed as well. You don't know why, but your view: Jay in his oversized hoodie with his unkept hair in front of your dorm building at 3AM on a Tuesday night, gives you comfort in weird ways you can't explain even if you tried.

But it's obviously just your cloudy, 3AM mind not thinking straight. Obviously.

"When I can't sleep, I go on drives around campus. It helps clear my mind," he says, looking over at you to give you a quick smile before starting his car. "Plus, SnapMap said you were still awake, so...figured you'd wanna join."

"Oh so what, you're my stalker now? You're not driving to the woods to kill me now, are you?" You tease, an eyebrow brought up. Jay lets out a laugh from beside you as he begins to drive further into your campus.

"Guess you'll just have to wait and see," he throws you a wink before reverting his gaze back to the road, mindlessly driving to wherever the road decides to take him.

A comfortable silence falls in between the two of you as Jay continues to drive endless routes around your campus. You look over to the boy driving next to you and take in his features––you don't know what changed, but you no longer feel the same anger or annoyance bubbling within you when you're around him. You're not sure when this changed, but you figure it's just the effect of desensitization. After all, you've been spending so much time with him, you're bound to get used to it. Right?

"Why were you up?" Jay finally asks after a few minutes of just the two of you silently basking in each other's presences.

"Ah, you know. The usual. Endless thoughts running through my mind, stress from school, nothing new," you sign, giving him a soft smile followed with a shrug.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

You answer him with silence as you search your head for the answer.

"I don't know. This is kinda weird, isn't it?" You don't know why you get a sudden surge of confidence, but before you can stop yourself, you find yourself rambling on. "If you had told me a month ago that I'd be here driving around with you when it's nearly 4AM, I would've laughed in your face."

Jay doesn't know whether to laugh or scoff. "Is the idea of hanging out with me that unappealing to you?"

You give him a serious look back. "I mean, up until a month ago when you needed me for whatever this game is, you literally pretended I didn't exist."

Oh. Awkward.

You freeze at your own words, mentally screaming at yourself for letting the words leave your mouth. Why, why, why.

"Y/N..." Jay says after clearing his throat after a few seconds of silence.

"No it's fine, it was a joke," you awkwardly cough and direct your attention to anything else around you right now. The view of your campus' buildings zooming by. The clicking of Jay's blinker when he switches lanes. The quiet roaring of his car's engine. The nervous tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel.

The rest of the ride is excruciatingly silent as he exits the main road and into an empty parking lot of some administration building made out of glass that has too many floors for you to count.

You don't know why you feel your heart beating in your throat as Jay puts the car into park––why you feel uneasy. You slightly turn towards him in your seat, hoping to pick up any sign of well...anything from him.

You don't know why you feel a twinge of guilt––it's not like what you said was necessarily wrong. If you were being honest, you were slightly bothered by how the two of you seemed to silently agree not to mention your past all this time. You were always one to seek answers, to seek closure. You couldn't help but bring it up––Jay was your best friend during those years. For him to just wake up one day and pretend you were nothing to him hurt you, and you couldn't help but still wonder what in the world you did to initiate his actions.

"I'm sor–" You're interrupted with his timid voice, as if he was almost afraid to speak.

"I'm not good with people." He's nibbling on his bottom lip, fingers nervously picking at a spot on the steering wheel.

You're opening and closing your mouth, unsure how to respond. You're 100% positive you look like a fish right now. Good for you.

"I don't know why. Jake calls it commitment issues but in order to have commitment, people have to stay in my life. And people just...don't. They're all bound to leave at some point. So what's the point of putting in effort into relationships if they're just going to leave you at the end?"

You're stunned by his sudden confession, not having been prepared for such a heavy topic to arise between the two of you. Up until tonight, your interactions had always been light-hearted and easy––you guys got along well. You didn't know this is how he felt all along.

But you knew where he was coming from.

You knew what Jay had gone through as a child––his mother having left him and his dad when he was young. You remember when your parents had told you the news at the young age of 13, and you remember the pain and sorrow you felt for your then friend. All you wanted to do was go to him and comfort him, but he had already cut you out from his life by then.

"Or maybe I'm the problem. My dad barely acknowledges my existence because he thinks giving me an allowance is all the parenting I need, my friends probably only stick around because they feel bad for me, you wouldn't even be here if it weren't for the bet, and, fuck, I'm literally known as the campus' fuckboy," Jay continues, falling deeper and deeper into the hole he dug himself.

He hates this, he hates opening up and feeling vulnerable, so he doesn't know why he's doing it now. He doesn't know why he feels comfortable voicing out his fears and worries when he's around you. But he does know it's a new feeling––one he doesn't know how to deal with.

"Jay," you lace your voice with as much comfort as you can provide. None of this is his fault, you want to tell him. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything," he says with a hint of bitterness and you can't tell if it's directed towards you or the topic at hand.

You're completely turned in your seat now to face him––despite the fact that he refuses to meet your gaze, afraid that looking at you is gonna bring out the most vulnerable in him. "You can talk to me. Talking about it makes it a lot easier. I'll always be here for you, as a friend."

Jay doesn't know what it is or why, but something in him snaps at the sound of a certain word falling out of your lips. Friend. Friend.

Friends don't make his heart beat nervously whenever he's around them. Friends don't keep him up at 3AM in the morning, pondering about his feelings for them. Friends don't provide him with this new, warm comfort he's become accustomed to whenever he's around you.

Deep down, Jay knows you didn't mean to add fuel to the fire. But because he's strong-headed, stubborn, and hates how vulnerable he feels next to you, he unleashes his emotions without thinking about the destruction coming along.

"It's none of your business, Y/N. Forget I said anything. You're just a toy for this stupid game and when it's all over we can go back to our own lives and forget this ever happened."

His sudden words cut deep, but they hurt him more than you. The second the words tumble out of his mouth, he's hit with the feeling of instant regret washing over him, and the lump forming in his throat restricts him from finding the right words to take them back.

The silence that falls between the two of you this time is different. It's a cold silence. A loud silence.

Jay feels his walls coming back up around him––the ones you managed to get through––and all he wants to do is apologize but he's terrified. Terrified of seeing your reaction, terrified of losing you again. For the second time.

You tell yourself he doesn't mean it. You tell yourself that he's just enduring more pain that one should ever receive.

But you also tell yourself that this wouldn't be the first time Jay leaves you in the dust.

You tell yourself that you're foolish for ever believing a friendship, or more, could come out of this act at the end. That you're so naive for feeling those stupid, stupid butterflies you've started to notice in your stomach whenever you see, or even think of, him.

"Okay," you begin with a firm tone. You're hurt, but you refuse to show it. You won't let him hurt you for a second time. Not again.

"Just...find me when you need me. As your fake girlfriend or just...me. I'm still here for you," is the last thing you say before un-clicking your seatbelt and leaving his car, beginning your walk back to your dorm hall.

Jay is unsure about many things in life. He's unsure about what he wants to do in the future, he's unsure of where he's going to settle in life, heck, he's unsure about what to have for lunch tomorrow. But he's sure about one thing.

That he's wearing his heart on his sleeve right now, and it's all because of you.

That you've become this new lifeline and he has to choose between holding onto you or drowning.

When Jay wakes up the next morning, his first gut instinct is to get ready to pick you up for class. But today's different. Jay doesn't know where the two of you stand now, especially after last night.

Jay doesn't know how to deal with this combination of unknown emotions he's been feeling lately. They didn't come out of no where, by any means, he realizes. They've been slowly growing over the past month of seeing you so often––like a plant he's been watering overtime, not expecting it to bloom into a flower so suddenly––but he figured it was nothing more than just enjoying the company of a friend.

Until he realizes that the term friend just doesn't suite you anymore––not to him, at least. And that scares him. It scares him that you've made him genuinely smile more in this past month than he ever has in his 19 years of living. It scares him that when he's around you he can't comprehend his own thoughts, his feelings. It scares him that you make him vulnerable, that you've changed him. That you've managed to make the walls that he's spent so long building and polishing to crumble with a simple tap of your finger.

In a perfect world, Jay would have already told you all this––he would be unafraid of how you would react, unafraid of your rejection, unafraid of losing this growing relationship with you. But alas, we don't live in a perfect world. And so when Jay drives to class that day, he drives right past your dorm building.

"Where's Y/N?" is the first thing Jake questions when he enters Jay's car that morning, confused by your absence, having been used to you being in the front seat every morning when Jay goes to give Jake rides to class as well.

"I don't know," Jay mutters, unemotional eyes focused on the road in front of him, not interested in continuing a conversation that involves thinking about you.

Jake hesitates as curiosity gets the best of him. "Did you guys get into a fight or something?"

Jay's hands tighten around the steering wheel of his car. "Or something. Let's just leave it at that."

There are a few beats of silence before Jake speaks up again.

"Well, I guess this works out because I wanted to talk to you about something."

Jay continues to stare straight ahead of him, focusing on just trying to get by without mentally beating himself up at the simple thought of you.

The simple thought of you and your smile. Your witty remarks. Your stupid eye rolls. Your laughter. Your kindness. So much for not thinking about you.

"I'm calling it off," Jake's words catch Jay off guard.

"Huh? Calling what off?"

"The bet. I'm calling it off. I don't care about the textbook fees I'll have to pay next semester. Look, fight or not, you and Y/N are good for each other, everyone can see it. And I really don't want this to end up being one of those messed up teen TV shows where the girlfriend finds out the entire relationship was based off of a stupid game and then they break up and the boyfriend falls into eternal sadness and regret. And I don't wanna see you sad, dude. So yeah! Congrats," although he's admitting defeat, Jake's beaming widely, just content with the fact that his best friend has finally found happiness through the form of you. "You win."

But Jay feels like the opposite of a winner. Because even though his only intention coming into this was simply winning the bet, his life isn't as simple as it was a month ago. Because he discovered something much more valuable than some stupid textbook fees or five hundred dollars or getting his physics homework done for an entire semester.

Something he's scared he's already lost.

You.

⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺

The next time you see Jay is at the same time and place as when he first ever appeared to pick you up––at 12:17PM on a Friday afternoon, as you're exiting the doors of the lecture building home to your awfully long Capitalism in World History class. This time, however it's different.

Because this time, it's one month later, and Jay Park is no longer a forgotten side character in the story of your life. This time, you're frustrated because it's been three days since you've last heard from Jay. And because it's been three days since you've last heard from him, you can't focus on anything else, and because you can't focus on anything else, you're falling behind on every other aspect in your life. Jay's somehow managed to become the center of your life without even having to be present.

Well, up until now. Up until you go down the steps of your lecture hall's entrance and look up to be met with a figure leaning on a car you're far too familiar with. You freeze in your steps as you make eye contact with the boy you've been thinking about non-stop for the past month three days.

Your mind tells you to walk away, to just follow your flight instinct instead of fight, to just go back to your normal life. But here's the thing. Ever since Jay's made his way back to your life, it's been far from normal.

And if you're being honest, you had no interest in going back to your normal life. Normal's overrated anyways. You find your legs bringing yourself over to him, your heart leading the way.

"Hi," you simply say, planting yourself right in front of him.

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?" You already know the answer, but you want to hear him say it.

"Waiting for you," Jay doesn't hesitate in answering you. This time will be different, he tells himself.

"I can walk myself home, thanks," you state, but your actions tell differently, as you make no sign of moving from your spot in front of him.

Jay's mind contemplates telling you everything. About how he regrets that friendship-breaking decision he made that one fateful day in the eighth grade, about his true feelings, about how he first suspected these feelings when he was 11 years old and saw you in your fancy get-up for the sixth grade dance but put it off as a little crush, and about how the same feelings grew into something so, so much more in the present. But seeing that putting all these thoughts into words would involve more than one functioning brain cell (which is all he's convinced he has in the moment, for the view of you staring up at him, looking like that, has his brain short-circuiting), he settles with:

"He called it off. It's over. The bet."

"Oh."

Silence.

Okay, Jay. This is your chance. Say it.

"Is that it?" You lift an eyebrow, awaiting for more explanation. When it doesn't come, you slightly nod and start backing away. "I'll see you around then."

Is that it? Do the two of you just go back to your respective lives now? How can Jay do that, when he doesn't even recall what his life was like before you entered it––and especially when he has absolutely no interest in going back to that life?

Fuck it.

"Y/N!" He stands up straight, a newfound confidence taking over. This time will be different, he tells himself. Because now, he knows what he wants. For sure.

You turn towards him, to see him already making his way towards you, stopping in his steps when he finds himself close enough to you that he can't concentrate anymore.

"I'm sorry for ditching you in the eighth grade. I'm sorry for ignoring you since then. I'm sorry for dragging you into this stupid mess and for pushing you away and I'm sorry for calling you a toy. Because it's far from truth. I like you. A lot. And––and I'm scared. I'm scared of what this means for us, because I just keep messing things up and all I know is that I don't wanna wake up tomorrow and realize you're not in my life anymore and––"

"Woah, woah, Jay. Slow down," you look up at him, the corners of your lips threatening to curve up into a smile. "You're an idiot, you know."

Jay's never really confessed his feelings to anyone before, per say, so he doesn't really know what to expect. But he's watched enough Netflix rom-coms in this lifetime (which is still not that many) to know that hearing the words "you're an idiot" isn't what you're supposed to hear after pouring your heart and soul out. Surely not, right?

"I––I'm not sure how to respond to that," he quietly says, searching your eyes for a sign, for anything. You giggle at his sudden shyness as you grab both his arms and look at him right in the eyes.

"It's okay. I get it, if anything, I'm also scared. But you somehow got me wrapped around your stupid finger, and I hate it," you smirk at him, your hands slowly making their way up his arms to circle around his neck.

Jay's hands naturally fall at your waist as he lets out a breathe he didn't even know he was holding as he returns your smirk. "Well, I could say the same about you. And I also hate it, for your information."

"Hmm, is that so? I guess it cancels out then, right?" You smile at him as he's pulling you in so close, your head turns cloudy.

Jay grins at you, his eyes holding so much joy and endearment as they quickly flicker down to your lips before returning to your own eyes. "I guess this only means one thing then."

"Mm, and what's that?"

And before Jay can answer––and because your life's been anything but normal lately––you make the first move this time, moving your head up to close the small gap between the two of you.

His arms instinctively tighten around you as you capture his lips with your very own, and Jay swears he's about to lift off into space right now. He's on cloud nine, and he makes no plans to touch the ground ever again.

The kiss quickly becomes fervent, all the pent-up tension that the two of you had for one another finally finding its way out, all the words that were previously left unsaid finally expressing themselves. You don't even care if you're being judged by the conservative faculty members of your school right now, or by the looks of fellow students walking past the two of you.

You try your best to keep yourself from smiling as he continues to press his lips against yours, his hand moving to hold your chin, guiding your mouth with his.

Before you find yourself getting carried away, you step back to take a breath, resting your forehead against his chest as his hands rest against your back. He smiles at the sound of you giggling against him.

Jay takes a step back to take one look at you and realizes, in this moment, that change can be good. And he's willing to undergo this change. As long as it's with you.

⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺

The next morning, you bounce down the steps of your dorm building's entrance to meet the wide, bright smile of your ex-childhood-bestfriend-turned-fake-boyfriend-turned-real-boyfriend waiting for you in front of his car, small pastry bag in hand. You smile back at him.

Jay drives you to class that day.

And everyday after that.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ :

✰ let me know what you think! if u made it til the end, mwah :') <3

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imaginesfordifferentfandoms · 3 years

Text

Secrets & Sleepovers

Click here for my masterlist.

Add yourself to my taglist.

Prompt - ‘So if you are too tired to speak, sit next to me for I too, am fluent in silence.’

Night after night Spiderman took to the streets fighting bad guys for hours on end and then had to attend school the next day on very little sleep. For the most part, he managed, the spider bite giving him all sorts of cool abilities, one of them being able to last longer without sleep than regular humans.

School was a nightmare most days. The workload was piling higher and higher as the semesters went on and on top of that he had to deal with Flash on a regular basis. The lack of sleep made him more susceptible to losing it on Flash but he somehow managed to keep it to verbal arguments lately. The last thing he needed was to accidentally expose his powers in a fight with Flash.

Peter Parker loved being Spiderman but some days it was all too much. Every little noise, the scent of the city, the feel of his clothing, his senses became overwhelmed and all he wanted to do was hide under his blanket and sleep for weeks.

Unfortunately that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. With exams around the corner and someone needing to look out for the little guys, Peter was overworking himself and it was only a matter of time before he crashed and burned.

You let out a loud groan as you let your head hit the textbook in front of you, missing the way Peter smirked at you.

“If I ever have to look at another math book again, I may cry.” You grumbled into the book. You and Peter were currently sitting in the library studying for an upcoming exam.

When you had first sat down, you had raised an eyebrow at Peter. He looked like he hadn’t gotten any sleep judging by the dark circles under his eyes, there was also bruising around his left jaw and a small cut just below his hairline. When you had asked him about it he shrugged it off and told you he was staying up late studying and that bruise was just him being clumsy. You weren’t sure you believed it but you let it go for now.

“Considering we got to a school that specialises in that stuff, I’m not liking your chances.” Peter grinned, causing you to sit up and throw a crumpled up piece of paper at him.

“Hey!” He exclaimed with a laugh. Moments later you heard a shushing noise causing you both to quietly chuckle.

“Let’s take a break.” Peter suggested, moving to put his books in his bag. You were in desperate need of some food and a stretch so you were quick to follow.

It wasn’t long until the two of you had found a small diner and had a selection of food in front of you.

You noticed how Peter shifted and winced a few times before settling in.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” You asked again.

Peter cursed himself, he thought he was good at hiding his secret but you always managed to see through the lies he gave. It was another downside to having this mutation, the lying. He was constantly lying to you, to Aunt May, to everyone but he couldn’t risk anyone finding out. He wouldn’t risk the people he cared about getting hurt because of him.

“I’m fine,” Peter assured with a bright smile, it was hard not to smile back though the concern didn’t go away. “Trust me, after finals I’ll be good as new.” He knew that wasn’t true but he just wanted you to stop worrying about him. With all the stress right now the last thing he wanted was to add to that.

“Ok, ok, I’ll drop it but if you wanna talk about anything…”

“I know and I appreciate it, Y/N/N, I really do.” With that you finally did let the topic drop. Peter was right, everyone was stressed and overly tired right now.

The days were starting to blend into each other. Peter was struggling to get through the day, dreading the nights where he would fight crime but if he didn’t do it and somebody got hurt...that was on him.

Nobody else would feel the pain he felt, not when he could do the things he could.

Peter was sitting on the roof of a tall building, legs dangling over the edge. He’d long taken his mask off, knowing he was safe up here. Tonight had started off rough, he’d stopped a mugging but had taken a few hits from the man's knife and plenty of bruises were quickly developing on his face. Thankfully his healing speed meant that the knife wound had knitted itself together quite quickly to stop the bleeding but that only made him more exhausted.

He wouldn’t know where the bruises ended on his face and where the bags under his eyes started. He so desperately wanted to do nothing more than clasp into bed.

He was exhausted.

Shaking his head, he blinked hard against the sudden wetness in his eyes, cursing himself for becoming so emotional but he couldn’t help it. Between school and secret identities, he was stretching himself way too thin.

With a sigh Peter stood up. He had to get moving otherwise he’d end up falling asleep on some cold rooftop. He swung for what felt like hours, really it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes, before landing on a fire escape.

He hadn’t realised it but somehow he had ended up at your house. The curtains were still open and he could see the soft glow of the lamp.

Mentally he chastised himself for coming here but who could blame him? You had always had a way of making him feel safe, making him feel like everything was ok even when it was falling to pieces. When he had lost Uncle Ben you had been his rock. So who could blame him for subconsciously seeking you out when he was feeling like this.

He looked in the window and saw you sat at your desk, books and papers spread out in what looked like a chaotic mess but he knew you would know exactly where everything was.

He wanted so desperately to knock on your window, to just sit with you in silence and feel like the world wasn’t about to crumble but he knew he couldn’t.

For starters he was still in the Spiderman suit and secondly he knew if you caught a glimpse of him now, bruised and beaten, you wouldn’t stop until you found out his secret.

He stood up, ready to leave and continue swinging around for a few more hours despite the exhaustion. You however heard something outside and turned to look, from your seat at the desk you had a perfect view of the fire escape just outside your window and your eyes widened as you saw Peter.

You ran over to the window, pushing it open before Peter had a chance to move and the two of you froze, locking eyes with each other waiting for someone to break the silence.

When the silence stretched for an uncomfortable amount of time you spoke;

“You’re Spiderman.” You stated rather than asked, the evidence was clear before your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Was Peter’s quiet reply, his eyes grew wet as he tried to hold back tears. You took in each cut and bruise on his face, wincing in sympathy. It explained a lot really but you’d seen the videos of Spiderman, you’d seen the risk he put himself in time and time again.

You didn’t like it but even without Peter’s explanation, which you would definitely be getting, you knew he wouldn’t ever give Spiderman up, knew how much responsibility he must have been putting on himself. The exhaustion made a lot of sense.

“Come in.” You said, stepping out of the way so he could climb in. Peter hesitated but did as you asked, standing awkwardly by your window as you rummaged around in your closet.

It took a few moments but eventually you found a pair of sweatpants and an old shirt you’d stolen from Peter and held them out for him, smiling as he raised an eyebrow at you.

“I think you own more of my clothes than I do.” He joked but you could still see the tension in his shoulders, giving away just how anxious he was causing you to sigh.

“Listen, I’m not angry and I’m not going to ask you to give Spiderman up or anything. Hell, I’m not even completely surprised it’s you behind the mask. Sure I wish you would’ve told me but I get why you didn’t.” You told him sincerely, stepping forward and reaching up to lightly touch his bruised cheek. “You’re so brave. I promise we can talk about it in the morning but you look exhausted.”

“I’m so tired,” He whispered, his eyes falling shut as he leaned into your touch, “God, I’m so tired.” He repeated.

You took his hand and guided him to your bed, making sure he was tucked in before climbing in yourself. Peter was quick to move from his side and rest his head on your stomach causing you to smile down at him. You let your fingers settle in his hair, gently running your finger through it causing him to cuddle closer to you.

You continued to stroke his hair long after he had fallen asleep, a warm feeling spreading inside of you with every happy sigh he gave in his sleep. You were determined to make sure Peter was well rested and looked after from now on, seeing just how bad things had gotten for him. The pressure you knew he would put on himself would be enough to make anyone crack but Peter had held himself so well.

It wasn’t long before you were falling asleep too, a smile on your face as Peter reached for your hand whilst murmuring incoherent words.

#andrew garfield imagine #andrew garfield x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #the amazing spiderman #the amazing spiderman imagine #andrew garfield spiderman x reader #amazing spiderman x reader #the amazing spiderman x reader #amazing spiderman imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker & reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #spiderman oneshot #marvel x reader #marvel imagines

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Note

I read the edgy!karl, I’ve just finished reading the alt!dream, WHEN IS GEORGE GONNA BE NEXT 😩😩

*cracks knuckles* the hcs that everyone has provided me with has hella prepped me and I'm ready. this is dedicated to 🍭 anon, whose fanart always steals my entire heart. i love u babe

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄. ᶤ 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐤!𝐠𝐧𝐟

± pairings: punk!Georgenotfound x fm!reader

± word count: ~3300

± warnings: smut (18+), language, tattoo work, sadism, pain kink (if you squint), domination, mentions of needles, asphyxiation

song recommendation: Cent Fois by Alice et Moi

George’s mind wandered to his curiosity of the shop across from his tattoo parlor; bright neon signs advertising the local psychic. It was a stark contrast to the dark, wet city housing the businesses. Each night he locked up, he found himself standing on the other edge of the street, staring at the signs and draperies peeking from behind the glass windows and considering shedding his skeptical nature just for one night.

While your business was alluring in and of itself, his true draw to the place came after he had spotted you moving into the apartments above. Your clean appearance completely juxtaposed the business you ran. In his opinion, all natural healers and psychics were born scam artists only focused on the quickest way to pinch a penny.

Yet day after day, he found himself having to tear his eyes from your business just to get home or he would actually venture inside. He was rather subtle about his fascination when it came to his co-workers and regular customers, but each day he prayed you would wander in, requesting some kind of tattoo in a place hidden from outside eyes.

A place he’d like to see again in a less professional setting.

You flipped the textbook page after finishing your paragraph, highlighting a date you were looking for before leaning towards your notebook and scribbling down the fact. You gnawed on the end of your pen absent-mindedly, positive you still didn’t know what your professor had been rattling off about in class a few hours prior. Your sights drifted up to the incense burning across the store from you, the stick on its last few centimeters of wood as the smoke went stale.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, debating if you should light another or wait until morning. You capped your marker and stretched your back, the bell over the door letting out a telling chime as a man peeked in.

You leaned over the counter, closing your books. “Good evening! Welcome to After Life. Can I help you find anything?” You rambled, your mind flashing to the sheet of paper tucked into the frame of your bathroom mirror so you didn’t forget the basics of customer service.

The man stepped further into your view, stuffing his fists in his jean pockets as he walked closer in a cautious motion. His dark t-shirt advertised a band you had vaguely heard of, but couldn’t think of a song even if your life depended on it. What really drew your attention were his tattooed arms; branches from a grand tree twisting every which direction to peek out from beneath his sleeves; bright floral designs and litters of birds decorating the dark wood limbs. You bit back a smile at the small mushroom tattoo near his wrist that seemed to be out of place.

The laces of his Chuck Taylors grazed the floor before he was standing in the middle of your store, looking around briefly. “I actually co-own the parlor across the street. I realized I never welcomed you officially,” he stated, hints of nervousness reflecting in his tone. His accent was calming and husky from the season change.

At the mention of the tattooist across the street, your memory flashed to the various walks of life that found themselves in your store after getting work done. You also thought of the fact that you had seen the man before you break up fights in the street stretching between your properties. The tall muscular people seemed to have no effect on him as he’d pull them apart like school children on the playground.

You pushed your books further to the side. “Oh yeah, that’s right! I should have come over and introduced myself, so don’t worry about it,” you eased, swatting the air of his comment.

He chuckled softly before reality seemed to snap into his head, making him step forward and extend a hand to you. “I’m George, by the way,” he introduced. You took his hand, muttering your own name and hoping your attention span would hold for long enough that he would be entered into your long-term memory.

His hand was calloused in yours, something that you wondered came with the job or if he was some kind of carpenter in a past life of his. You gently pulled his hand closer to you, slipping your hold out of his to look at his palm. He tittered nervously, peering at the flesh with you. Your finger traced along the mounts in his hand, finding Jupiter to be the most prominent. “That checks out,” you mumbled to yourself, nodding softly.

His eyebrows perked up. “What? Am… Am I gonna meet a tall dark stranger and take a trip across the sea?” He joked, making you smile as you looked at his Sun line.

“I didn’t peg you as an Outlander fan,” you chided.

His brows flattened for a moment, chewing the inside of his lip and playing with his snake bite piercings. You found it hard to look away from him. “Honestly, I wasn’t. A girl I was fooling around with really liked it. I don’t know…” he trailed off, making you giggle.

Your nail grazed along his heart line. “You guys were just fooling around?” You quirked, eyes meeting his. His expression narrowed smugly as if urging you to continue. “Your heart line begins below your index finger. You’re not the fooling around type.” He let out a snort. “You fall in love easily too.”

He sighed with a slight sparkle in his eyes as he looked at you. You couldn’t tell if he was amazed or mocking you again. “Well, yeah. That’s…” He paused with a swallow, biting back a grin as if he was uncomfortable, but didn’t retract his hand from you. “... That’s why we’re not anymore,” he admitted. He leaned his elbows on the counter as you sat in your chair. “What else does it say?”

Your lips curled into a soft smirk, his curious eyes trailing over your face as if to watch your brain work. “You have a fire element hand which indicates that you’re confident and passionate. Maybe a bit cocky sometimes,” you teased, making him chuckle with you. You could feel his eyes on you, sending heat to your cheeks as you tried not to focus on the mount of Venus under your touch.

You wanted to ask him about his sexual indulgences, mainly because of the prevalence of Venus in his palm. “You have a mount in Jupiter, which means you’re a natural leader, and rather dominant.” You looked up at him again, watching as he bit back a smirk, seemingly understanding the subtle innuendos behind your statements.

George seemed to have some kind of effect on you, your thoughts clouding with the idea of what his snake bites would feel like against your lips. He smelled like cigarette smoke, but there was no discoloration to his skin to suggest he was the one smoking. He watched you through the hair threatening to dangle over his eyes, his gaze hinting at an attraction he had for you below his collected form. “Go on,” he murmured, voice soft and wispy as the space between the two of you seemed to warm.

You made a conscious effort to keep your sultry thoughts at bay as your thumb brushed over the area you had been avoiding telling him about. “You’re driven by desire,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re… very in touch with your sexuality and you thrive on your indulgences.”

You couldn’t help but meet his eyes, the dark irises swimming with some kind of cocky smugness at what you had just told him. He pulled away from you, gently standing up. Part of you wished the counter between the two of you would vanish just so you could be pressed up against George at the mercy of his driven mind. “I feel it's only fair I tattoo you now,” he quipped, making your eyebrows raise. Your confidence shriveled yet you swore you wouldn’t let him know that fact.

You chewed on your lip, looking up at him with a hint of suspicion. “Oh, I’ve never been tattooed,” you avowed, voice carrying the slightest bit of your coaxing nature.

He smirked. “I’ll take care of you, I promise,” he cajoled, teeth playing at his piercings again as you were sure he was already undressing you with his eyes. “You read me, I’d like to do the same.”

And how could you refuse such an appealing offer?

You leaned back on your elbows, your skin sticking to the leather chair beneath you as you watched him pull back his hair, elastic band dangling from his white teeth. Despite securing back his locks, bits of his bangs still hung over his forehead. You liked the interior of his parlor, maybe because it was only the two of you.

George began to fill small caps of dark ink. “I think you should get some crystals in here,” you teased, making him smirk. “I could hook you up.”

“What, like a salt lamp?” He joked, pulling on a pair of dark plastic gloves.

You snorted, lying back and looking up at the ceiling. “It might be good. Lighten the place up a bit.” George swiveled his chair closer to you muttering some kind of line about only getting them from you, but his words fell silent on your ears as his hand pushed up your shirt. You were silently thanking whatever divine force above for swaying you towards slinkier lingerie earlier that morning.

You knew he could see the lacy edges of your bra by the way his eyes nonchalantly flashed up to you before laying out his template on your ribs. You could feel hints of his warm breath against your skin as he studied it. “You can look at it if you want,” he stated.

You shook your head, wanting him close to you as long as he could be. “I trust you,” you muttered, your eyes meeting his again. His tongue pressed against his cheek as he struggled not to smile at your statement. He had promised to cover a small scar for you and by the way he explained it, you were ready to be in his hands. You wet your lips as he adjusted the speed on his tattoo gun. “Will this hurt?” You asked, tucking one of your arms behind your head.

The look of unadulterated lust that he gave you made your toes want to curl. “Probably a bit. It feels good sometimes, though,” he answered. He came closer to you, resting his forearm on your stomach to angle himself in the right position. At the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, you swore your body was on fire. It took everything in your power not to moan. It could have been the adrenaline pulsing through your veins, but his soft breath and the anticipation of the needle made you feel like a junky. “I’ll be gentle, darling,” he leered, his accent muddy and low. He let the needles drag against your skin and you bit your lip, trying not to hiss at the pain. His eyes met yours. “See, not bad.”

You let out a breathy wheeze. “Shut up, you sadist,” you quipped, his chuckle coming out rather roguish as he focused on the work in front of him. Your nerves were more focused on the way George’s hands were barely caressing your body as if teasing and hinting at what he could do to you.

You drew in a sharp breath as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Shhh shh. It’ll be over soon,” he cooed, his voice sending goosebumps spreading across your body as his lips tugged into a light smirk. By your palm reading, you knew he was enjoying having this much control over you.

Part of you found it almost torture when George would look at you with soft and lusty eyes for merely a second before his gaze jutted back down to his work, murmuring soft praises about how well you were taking the pain. You would go under the needle anytime he asked, just to receive the sultry treatment he gave.

He was so close, you could have driven your fingers into his dark hair if you wanted. “How did you get this scar?” He asked, cleaning off some of the ink before continuing.

“A knife fight,” you answered without missing a beat, making him scoff. “Actually, I fell into my grandma’s glass table one time. My cousin was teaching me the Electric Slide,” you corrected, making him laugh, shaking his head slightly as he filled in a spot.

He let his tongue dart across his lips. “That’s so cute. Did you ever get it figured out?” To this you shook your head, the both of you laughing. You let out a groan as the needle dug into another area on your ribs, the sound making his eyes dart up to you. He leaned off of you, slipping one of his gloves off. “Wanna hold my hand, sweetheart?” He joked, but you took his offer, squeezing his hand in yours when it got painful enough. You held it close to your chest, hoping he would feel your heartbeat quicken each time he looked at you.

As he finished up his work, his thumb brushed against your hand absent-mindedly. You could tell by the way he gripped your hand as well that he enjoyed that the tattoo hurt you. Most of your mind was excited by how easily he was stirred up by you, while the rest was completely unsurprised and even threatened to bite out that he was a cliché.

When he was finally satisfied, he cleaned you up and stuck on a SecondSkin, biting back a grin at his work as he pulled you up by the hand he was holding onto you with. You couldn’t help but smile at how excited you were to see, swinging your legs over the side of his hair and walking towards his mirror. You held your shirt up, chewing on your bottom lip as you grinned at the ink. George rested a hand beside the mirror, watching you beam at his work.

All of his lines were flawless, your scar completely disappearing within his shading. You’d pitched the idea of an ode to the Creation of Adam. While it was cliche, what better to fit in the space below your breast and give George the impression that you were cultured. Yet you told him he could do whatever he wanted to it, resulting in one of the hands resembling a skeleton and the other holding a sucker. As you praised him, he shrugged off your comments, murmuring about it being his pleasure. He reached out his free hand, letting his thumb smooth over one of the edges of this bandage, which brought you closer to him.

Your cheeks warmed at the close proximity to him as his eyes grazed over your body before meeting your own. His hand moved from the bandage to your back. You leaned on your toes, pressing your lips to his. The tension between the two of you dissipated as he hungrily reacted, pulling you against him and savoring your moans as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

George’s hands moved down your body, swiftly hooking around your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist to bring you back to his chair. Your hands moved into his hair, letting it loose and wrapping the band around your wrist. The leather was cold as your back pressed to it. George leaned back to pull his shirt over his head, revealing more of the tree painting the expanses of his skin.

If you weren’t so eager to be touched by him, you’d be studying the work of art.

As his lips met yours again, you ground your hips against his, eliciting a moan to vibrate through his chest. You raked your nails down his back, trying to further draw out reactions from him as his hands attentively played with the lace of your bra, fingers ghosting over the skin pressing against the cups.

His lips left yours only to travel the length of your jaw and inch his way toward your waistband. Your pants were discarded with a swift tug from him before he pulled your thighs flush against his, grinding his hips against yours, hands gripping onto your sides to keep you in place. You tilted your head back, relishing in the friction as your body screamed to finally feel him take advantage of you.

You reached between the two of you, tugging at his zipper as your hunger for him escalated. His tongue flattened against your collarbone before his teeth pressed into your skin. You could feel his arousal through his jeans at the sound of your whimpering.

He pumped himself in his hand before pressing into you, the feeling of him inside of you making your head spin as if you were on some kind of ecstasy. Your moan came out needy and desperate as he thrust into you, gripping the edge of the leather seat as his breath hummed against your skin. Your fingers threaded into his hair, raking your nails down his neck as he groaned in your ear at the feeling.

One of his hands grasped your wrists together, pinning them above your head while the other wrapped around your throat. His eyes burned into yours as he leaned back, leaning his weight on your wrists and squeezing your throat, the lack of oxygen making each of your senses more heightened as he pounded into you.

Your moans of George’s name were grated as they slipped through your mouth, his relentless pace and intense hold nearly making you drool from the stimulation. By the practice of his actions, you wondered how long he had been stewing on demolishing you in this way.

He loosened his grip on your neck, leaning down to press his lips against yours, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip just to hear you groan from the rough action. You rolled your hips against his, letting him slow his pace to reach deeper within you. A sadistic grin spread across his face as he rubbed a thumb across your cheek, wiping away the makeup smudging around your eyes from his antics and the heat between the two of you.

He pressed his lips to your neck, wrapping his hand around the edge of the chair again to drive himself into you, the new angle muddling your mind and vision as your body ached to come undone. You sank your nails into his back, earning his low, raspy whispers of your name.

At his praises, you came, tugging on his hair as he bit into your shoulder again, basking in the feeling of you clenching around him.

The next day, George stretched his shoulders, peering through the front window of his shop. His mind sparked with the feeling of your legs around his waist and the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. He could practically hear you whimpering his name in his ears as he went back to touching up a fading tattoo on his friend’s arm.

“OW, George,” Clay rumbled, thigh flinching at the jab from George.

George snorted, his mind still on the high he got from your pure trust in him as you laid out on his chair. “I’ll give you something to bitch about,” George grumbled, releasing just how gentle he was during your tattoo. The way your voice got soft and quiet when he rolled over a spot that was rather tender already would most definitely be a guilty pleasure of his.

Clay barked at him again as George jerked his hand, fulfilling his promise. “I’VE BEEN NICE TO YOU ALL MORNING.”

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